Every single Thanksgiving, my sister-in-law and her family hitch a ride in my car to go back to my husband's hometown. This year, I asked her to chip in for gas just once. She immediately went on Facebook and blasted me. "Need advice: My sister-in-law is forcing me to pay for gas, what should I do?" "Hey everyone, do you actually have to pay to ride in your own brother's car?" When the comments started calling her a freeloader, she doubled down and reported my car to my employer as a "bribe." She almost cost me my career. My in-laws called me petty and demanded I apologize to her. I snapped. I literally flipped the Thanksgiving dinner table. Did they really think I was just some pushover they could walk all over? 01 Right before Thanksgiving week, my sister-in-law, Chloe, sent her usual request to hitch a ride. "Hey Harper, we're riding with you guys again this year. When are we heading out?" "My brother said we're leaving on the 24th, just wanted to check with you." Reading the message, a wave of intense irritation washed over me. Just thinking about them freeloading in my car again made me wish the engine would just spontaneously combust. I replied bluntly, "Wouldn't it be faster for you guys to just buy train tickets? It's only a two-hour ride." Chloe, sensing my annoyance, quickly tried to smooth things over. "Train tickets are so hard to get around the holidays! I'm so sorry, Harper, I really am." I scoffed inwardly. Before Chloe got married, giving her a ride wasn't a big deal. But since she got married, her family of three brings multiple huge suitcases, packing the trunk so tight I barely have room for my own things. To make matters worse, her husband, Greg, has zero social grace. The moment he gets in the car, he glues his face to his phone. The moment we stop, he runs off to the bathroom. Treating us like a free taxi service is bad enough, but he also spends the entire trip backseat driving and complaining. Their three-year-old son is a nightmare, too. The back of the front seats are always covered in his muddy footprints. When we stop at rest stops, they actually have the nerve to ask me to buy snacks and drinks for their kid. As for the gas and tolls for the entire trip? They pretend those expenses don't exist. I'm not against giving them a ride. Once or twice is fine. But every single year? And acting so entitled about it? Does my money grow on trees? 02 When my husband, Ben, got home from work, he asked cautiously, "Honey, did you and Chloe get into a fight?" I glared at him, feeling even more annoyed. Even though we don't live with my in-laws, having a sister-in-law who constantly complains to them is exhausting. They both have their own families now, but they still can't establish normal boundaries. I sat on the couch, crossing my arms. "Every year we go back to your hometown for Thanksgiving, your sister's family hitches a ride. Can't they just buy their own train tickets?" Ben scratched his head and leaned in with a goofy smile. "Babe, you know tickets are hard to get during the holidays!" "Be the bigger person. It's just a ride, no big deal." Right then, my coworkers were sending links in our work group chat, asking people to help them get waitlisted train tickets. "Hey guys, click the link to boost my spot in line. Getting home depends on you all!" "Just need two more clicks, thanks everyone." ... I clicked on the profile of a coworker heading to a city near my in-laws' hometown and messaged him privately. "Hey Mark, did you manage to get your train ticket home?" Mark replied quickly, "Got it, Harper! Tickets were easy to get this year. They added two extra train lines to that route." "So jealous of you, Harper, getting to drive home." I opened the Amtrak app and searched for tickets to my in-laws' town. There were seven trains, and three of them still had plenty of seats. I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to Chloe, telling them to buy tickets fast. "These three trains still have seats. You guys can buy them right now." "The cost of three tickets is less than the gas for the drive, and it's safer." Last time we drove back, her son accidentally slammed his head into the car door, leaving a massive, swollen lump. It terrified me. If something serious actually happened, selling the car wouldn't even cover the lawsuit. I had constantly suggested she take the train with the kid because it was safer and more convenient, but she always ignored me. Thinking about it, I forwarded her an article about child car safety. The author emphasized the absolute necessity of car seats for children. I added a helpful reminder: "Chloe, I don't have a car seat in my car. It's fine for adults, but it's genuinely really dangerous for a kid." Chloe didn't reply. I had no idea if she even read it. Shortly after, I received a Venmo transfer for $50. The note read: Gas money. I replied: "?" Chloe still didn't reply to me directly, but she posted a screenshot of our chat in the family group text. "Having to pay gas money to ride in my own brother's car... that's a new one." "But whatever, I won't make a fuss. I paid the gas money." "I guess some families just have to nickel-and-dime everything. Lol!" That "Lol!" felt like a needle in my eye. I was just about to type a furious response when Ben walked out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower. He wrapped his arms around me, his hands wandering over my waist. "Watcha looking at, beautiful?" I angrily shoved him away and shoved the phone in his face, telling him to look at what his precious sister had said. "Look at what your sister wrote! What does she mean I 'nickel-and-dime' everything?" "I was genuinely concerned for her kid's safety. If something happened, your whole family would tear me apart." "Besides, we've been married for five years. They hitch a ride every single time and never contribute a dime. Why should I put up with it?" The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I stood up, ready to list every single offense. But Ben just frowned and looked at me with absolute disdain. "Why can't you just be generous for once? Why do you have to be so petty about every little thing?" "Are we really hurting for fifty bucks of gas money?" "If you act like this, how are we supposed to face my parents when we go back?" Looking at his aggressive, accusatory face, I was stunned. So, in the eyes of his entire family, I was just a petty, vindictive shrew? It wasn't enough that his sister's family constantly took advantage of us; I was also expected to bow down, smile, and be at their beck and call? I reminded him, "This car was a gift from my parents before we got married. It's not a company car for your family." Hearing that, he completely lost it. He violently threw the towel in his hand right at my face. His expression twisted into a snarl I had never seen before. I dodged it. He lunged forward, grabbing my arm, his voice cold. "How much longer are you going to hold this stupid car over my head? Do you look down on me?" I just wanted to remind him that the car belonged to our household, and I had the right to decide who used it. But he felt emasculated, assuming I was looking down on him. Dealing with such a childish, fragile husband was exhausting. When we were dating, I only cared about how much he seemed to care about me. I completely ignored his family dynamic. My parents had given me enough financial security that I didn't have to act like a subservient, walking-on-eggshells wife. But after we got married, his true nature slowly revealed itself. His paranoia and sensitivity constantly left me unable to defend myself against his ridiculous accusations. Looking at his furious face, it looked like he was a second away from hitting me. I was terrified. I quickly shook my head. "No, you're overthinking it. I was just stating the facts." Just then, an obnoxious ringtone blared. He let go of me and answered his phone. "Hey Mom, yeah, we're driving back on the 24th." "No, no, I was just kidding! Why would I ever make Chloe pay for gas?" "Don't worry, I'll handle it." He hung up the phone and glared at me coldly. "Harper, behave yourself when we go back for Thanksgiving. Don't start any drama." 03 The next day at work, my department director called me into his office. "Harper, have you been meeting with anyone unusual lately?" I was confused. I'm just a mid-level employee in a state government agency; who would I be meeting with? But I answered honestly, "Just a few contractors to discuss the project guidelines for next quarter." The director poured me a cup of water, his tone cautious. "Um... did they happen to give you anything?" It hit me. In our line of work, the biggest fear is improper relationships with contractors. Bribery is a career death sentence. I immediately stood up to defend myself. "Sir, all my meetings with contractors are recorded on security cameras. I can absolutely stand up to any investigation." Seeing how agitated I was, the director quickly told me to sit down. I then learned that someone had submitted an anonymous tip accusing me of accepting bribes, and even claiming my recent promotion was rigged. The whistleblower was highly informed about my financial situation, specifically pointing out my $40,000 Mercedes. "How can a mid-level state employee afford such an expensive car?" "I have evidence of her accepting bribes. I hope management strictly investigates this bad apple." The "evidence" was a blurry video shot in a hotel hallway. In the video, I was standing at my hotel room door, taking a delivery bag from a courier. The bag had a luxury brand logo on it. The whistleblower had zoomed in heavily on the logo. I watched the video two or three times before finally remembering what happened. A while ago, I was on a business trip in the city where my aunt lives. She was rushing to catch a flight overseas, so she hired a courier to drop off a gift for me at my hotel. That scarf was still hanging in my closet. How did this end up as a bribery accusation? Even though I had proof, the director decided it was best to put me on paid leave to avoid any negative optics. "Just take the vacation time you've accrued. Come back when the dust settles." "Don't overthink it. Just relax. It's a good time to focus on getting pregnant." The director patted my shoulder, noticing my gloomy expression. He called it "vacation," but in reality, it was a soft suspension. If I actually got pregnant during this time, I probably wouldn't have a job to come back to. Having worked here for years, I knew how the corporate politics played out. I felt completely defeated, both at work and at home. And just to make things worse, Chloe was still causing a scene in the family group chat. She forwarded a viral TikTok video about a college student getting a ride home for the holidays with her uncle, but her aunt demanded gas money. The comment section was filled with people calling out freeloaders, defending the college student. "I gave my uncle a few hundred bucks when I rode with him. If it was more than that, I wouldn't have given him a dime." "Remember to tell your mom about this." "I relate to this so much, I'd get yelled at by my sister for sure." But occasionally, there were one or two comments sarcastically calling the poster a "freeloader." ... Coupled with the $50 she had sent me earlier, it was hard not to conclude she was targeting me, the "aunt" in her scenario. In the family group chat, my mother-in-law fired the first shot: "What does this mean? Asking for money to ride in your own uncle's car? What kind of logic is that?" An aunt chimed in: "It's just a ride, why be so calculating? What, does having an extra person in the car burn more gas?" Chloe played the innocent victim: "She's probably just tired of us riding with her, so she's getting annoyed." My mother-in-law fired back immediately: "Even if you rode with her every day, she shouldn't complain! Does your kid call her 'Auntie' for nothing?" Every word, every sentence implicitly pointed at me, and everyone knew it. I was so annoyed I just started typing: "So, calling someone 'Auntie' means you get a free ride for life?" "Being a freeloader and acting so entitled about it... what kind of upbringing is that?" "When parents don't know basic manners, their kids learn the exact same thing." I didn't know the full context of the video she posted, but based on the original poster's reaction, I could guess they had probably never offered to pay before. The poster's mother probably didn't have a great relationship with her brother and sister-in-law either. Otherwise, why would the aunt make things difficult for her niece? Putting myself in the aunt's shoes, I felt like the sky was falling. The older generation and the younger generation all thought I should just be a free chauffeur. Asking for money meant I was being petty. The kids were unhappy, the elders were oblivious, and they all felt entirely entitled. How many times could this so-called "family bond" endure this kind of wear and tear? Seeing me push back so hard, Chloe got sarcastic. "Wow, you have a car, so you're better than everyone else? Now you're bringing 'upbringing' into this?" "It's just a dirty car anyway, what's there to be so proud of?" My eyes locked onto the words "dirty car," and a spark of realization flashed in my mind. I seized on her words and demanded, "What do you mean? What do you mean 'dirty car'?" "My parents bought me this car! Watch your mouth!!!" Triggered by my response, Chloe stopped hiding behind veiled insults and went fully on the offensive. "Your parents are just ordinary office workers! Where would they get that kind of money?" "You have an older brother! Why would they buy you a car?" "Anyone can see that car was a 'gift' from someone else. You probably opened a lot of 'back doors' for people, didn't you?!" Seeing her so boldly and confidently admit it, a sharp pain shot through my chest. To pass the civil service exam, I had locked myself in my room for three straight months, barely stepping outside. After getting hired, I worked tirelessly, extremely careful not to make a single mistake. To audit accounts, I practically lived at the office. Among the new hires in my cohort, I worked the most overtime, and I was the only one without political connections. Six months later, my results were undeniable, and my promotion was a given. All my financial records and interpersonal dealings could withstand any audit. And now, just because I didn't want her freeloading anymore, she threw dirty water on me. With a report like that on my record, my career was stained. Future promotions would definitely pass me over. I was shaking with anger, words tumbling out recklessly: "My parents bought me that car because they love me! You don't have parents who love you, go cry to them about it!" "This year, even if I have to smash the car to pieces, I am not taking your family." "Get lost, freeloader!" 04 When I got home, I was so furious I couldn't sleep. I wanted to just drive the car back to my parents' house and buy a train ticket to my in-laws' town. But when I got to the garage, it was empty. Ben stammered and avoided my eyes, finally claiming that a good buddy of his was going on a blind date and borrowed our car to look impressive. "My buddy is a great driver, nothing will happen to it." "He just took it to pick up the girl for dinner, he'll bring it back soon." I felt a sharp pain in my chest. How many times had this happened? Five years ago, when Ben and I got married, my parents gifted me a $40,000 Mercedes. From that moment on, the car seemingly became public property for his family. If anyone in Chloe's family had a minor headache, they'd run over and borrow the car. When we went back for Thanksgiving, every single relative felt entitled to order Ben around as their personal chauffeur. For weddings, funerals, whatever major event, his friends and family would ask to borrow our car. Fine. Let them borrow it. I couldn't really say no. But they would borrow a perfectly clean car and return it absolutely filthy. Speeding tickets, toll fees, and gas money—we always ended up paying out of pocket. A few times, people even threw up in the car. I had to swallow my disgust and pay for detailing. Once, halfway through washing the car, the detailer found a few used condoms stuffed in the back seat crevices. I checked the dashcam footage and almost threw up. On the custom floor mats I had carefully picked out, Ben's cousin was hooking up with some random woman. I exploded on the spot. I blasted the cousin in the family group chat. Ben's aunt actually blamed me for being petty, saying the young couple was just "being romantic" and I was making a big deal out of nothing. I laughed coldly and dropped a screenshot from the dashcam video into the chat. "Auntie, take a closer look before you speak. That's not his wife in the video." "If you want to screw around, don't you know how to get a hotel room? Doing it in my car, that's disgusting!" In the end, the cousin and his wife almost got divorced over it, and Ben blamed me. "Look at you, making a massive scene over a minor issue!" "Now my cousin's family is falling apart. Are you happy?" That Thanksgiving was a chaotic disaster. The entire extended family treated us like a reality TV show. What left me even more speechless was that they didn't end up divorcing. The cousin's wife even sent passive-aggressive messages in the group chat targeting me: "Some people get a little money and think they're better than everyone else." "Do too many wicked things, and not being able to have kids is your karma." I was so furious I was about to go to war with her, but Ben jumped in front of me to play the hero. "Our car won't be loaned out anymore. Everyone needs to respect that." "Every time you borrow it, it leaves with a full tank and comes back empty. We aren't your personal ATMs." Once, his cousin borrowed the car to go partying and brought it back with the gas light on. I was in a rush to get somewhere and didn't check the gauge. I ran out of gas halfway there and was stranded on the side of the road for hours. The car stalled in the middle of a lane, causing a huge traffic jam and making me miss an incredibly important contract signing. When I finally got back to the office, my boss screamed at me until I was deaf. After that, I strictly forbade Ben from lending the car out behind my back. I even threatened him with divorce. But he treated it like empty air, secretly lending it out anyway. This time, Chloe wanted to hitch a ride again. With all the old grudges and new offenses, I firmly refused. And as a result, she almost cost me my job. Not only that, she seemed intent on destroying my reputation and getting me permanently kicked out of government service. 05 After I went off in the family group chat, Chloe stayed quiet for a while. I directly bought two train tickets and announced that we weren't driving this time; everyone was taking the train back. My mother-in-law called me, and her entire conversation was just a thinly veiled demand for a grandchild. We've been married for five years, and I’ve been entirely focused on my career. I truly haven't had the energy to have a child. Ben and I had agreed before we got married that we would discuss kids once my career was stable. It’s hard enough for women in the workplace; pregnancy is an unavoidable hurdle. Many capable women enter the workforce with the potential to climb to management, even executive levels. But because of pregnancy and childbirth, they are forced to give up promotion opportunities. I didn't want that. I wanted to stand at the top to justify all my years of grueling academic study. But Chloe's tantrum made all my past efforts feel like a joke. My mother-in-law was very direct: "You've been married for five years. If you don't have a baby soon, how is my son supposed to show his face?" "People in the neighborhood are calling him a mule. If you have no shame, I still do." It was hard not to suspect that the mother and daughter had planned this together. One sabotages my career, the other swoops in to pressure me for a baby. A one-two punch designed to make me stay home peacefully, prepare for pregnancy, and completely abandon my career. Even my boss had cautiously asked if I was planning to have a kid. I broke down. I started wondering if I had been cursed. What wire in my brain crossed that made me agree to this marriage? I furiously yelled at my mother-in-law: "Nag, nag, nag! All you do is nag with your mouth!" "If you're so good at nagging, why don't you go sit in a fertility clinic? Just by talking, you could probably produce a whole litter." It was the first time my mother-in-law had ever been clapped back at by me. She instantly started crying. She immediately called her son, claiming I bullied her, called her an old hag. She said I looked down on their family, that I thought they were poor and beneath me. Listening to her twist the truth, I felt a surge of dark satisfaction. Bet you didn't expect your son to be standing right next to me. What an incredibly satisfying performance! Ben’s face went from pale to flushed. He brushed his mom off with a few vague words and hung up. Being called a "mule" by his own mother probably didn't feel great for him either. But because of his male ego, he absolutely refused to go to the hospital for a check-up, stubbornly insisting that I was the one who couldn't conceive. I was more than happy to play dumb. I didn't want to have a kid with him anyway. 06 On the 24th, I had my suitcase packed and was ready to head out, but Ben stood rooted to the spot. I urged him, "Let's go, we need to line up for the train." That's when he finally told me he lost his ID. "I don't know when I lost it, but I can't find it anywhere." "Let's just drive back." I dropped my suitcase and stared at him, expressionless. He looked away guiltily, not daring to meet my eyes. Sharing a bed for over five years, how could I not know what he was plotting? But the train was leaving in an hour. It took 30 minutes to get to the station by cab. There was definitely no time to go get a temporary ID now. That wasn't even factoring in traffic and lines. I said coldly, "You did this on purpose, didn't you? You absolutely insist on driving that car back, don't you?" He dropped the act and sat down, waving the car keys. "We have a car, why wouldn't we drive it? Do you know how many people back home are jealous we have a Mercedes? It's so much easier for me to drive around and visit relatives during the holidays." I was about to explode, but my phone rang. Chloe and her family were already waiting downstairs, rushing us to come down and hit the road. I looked at my deadbeat husband, feeling utterly, hopelessly disappointed in his entire family. Ben grabbed my suitcase and pushed me toward the door. "Let's go, let's go. We don't want to hit traffic." 07 Once we got in the car, Chloe apologized to me first, and then proactively handed over the $50 for gas. Seeing my dark expression, she also bought me a Red Bull. "Harper, I really couldn't get tickets. I'm so sorry." Her husband scoffed, plopped down in the back seat, and immediately started scrolling on TikTok. I found out later that after she fought with me, she realized the tickets were actually sold out. She tried a bunch of scalpers but couldn't get any. She looked into ride-shares, but when the drivers heard it was a family of three with a mountain of luggage, they quoted her the price to charter the whole car. Not wanting to pay the fare, she swallowed her pride and came crawling back to me. I was so disgusted by the siblings' manipulation my chest physically hurt. I just prayed nothing else would go wrong on the drive. Next time something like this happened, I was just going to sell the car. Then no one could covet it. The car got on the highway quickly, and Chloe's son started whining in the back. "Mommy, I gotta pee. I gotta pee." I heard rustling as Chloe dug out a folding toddler potty. "Here, buddy, pee in this." Immediately followed by the sound of a kid peeing. I had been trying to catch up on sleep in the passenger seat. I was suddenly jolted awake by the overwhelming stench of urine. "Ugh..." The smell made me so dizzy and nauseous that the two steamed buns I'd eaten for breakfast came right back up. We were flying down the highway at 70 mph, the scenery blurring past. The sour stench of vomit mixed with the sharp smell of urine, assaulting the nostrils of everyone in the car. Everyone looked green. I was pale as a sheet, pulling out a can of air freshener and spraying it like my life depended on it. Chloe's son couldn't handle the smell. He started crying, demanding we open the window, and even reached for the door handle. "It stinks! Open the door, open the door!" Chloe's husband, whose massive bulk took up two-thirds of the back seat, kept scrolling through TikTok, oblivious to everything else. The piercing shrieks of the kid and the obnoxious laugh tracks from the phone assaulted my eardrums simultaneously. I was just about to tell him to turn it down or use headphones when suddenly, the unmistakable smell of shit wafted up from the back. "Ahhh! Buddy, did you poop?!" "Babe, quick, get the diapers! Hand me the wipes!" The family of three in the back was in total chaos. I silently pulled out a face mask, put it on, and started scrolling furiously on my phone to distract myself. Once Chloe had dealt with the literal shitstorm, she finally seemed a bit embarrassed. She laughed nervously, "I'm so sorry, Harper. He just ate a bit too much before we left this morning." Fearing I'd get angry, she slapped her kid's butt and scolded him loudly, putting on a show of disgust: "Why are you trying to open the window?! Is this your car? Why do you think you can open the window?!" "I asked you if you had to go before we got in, and you said no! The minute we're on the road, it's nonstop pissing and shitting! Are you doing this on purpose?!" The kid wailed as he was hit, and Chloe alternated between comforting and yelling at him. I turned around, frowning. "Stop hitting him. We'll pull into the next rest stop and take a break." The suffocating stench, amplified by the car's heater, evenly coated every square inch of the interior. The kid's shrieks and the blaring TikTok comedy tracks from the back seat were a relentless assault on my sanity. I already had a problem with neurasthenia, and now I had a splitting headache. Ben couldn't take it anymore either. He checked the GPS. "Next rest stop is in ten minutes." But then, about 300 feet from the exit for the rest stop, there was a massive accident. The rest stop was temporarily closed. No entry allowed. The next rest stop was another half-hour away. I snapped. I told him to get off the highway and take local roads immediately. I couldn't stand being in this literal toilet of a car for another minute.
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