It was a quiet morning when I ran into Michael again in our old hometown. A quick coffee turned into hours of reminiscing, and within months, we were married. Everything felt perfect—until he revealed an old family superstition: a supposed curse that brought misfortune to any woman who married into his family.

At first, I laughed it off. But then came a flat tire, my business declining, and a break-in at our home. Doubt crept in.

The truth came out by accident—overheard through a still-active phone call. Michael’s mother wasn’t worried about a curse; she was the one orchestrating our misfortunes to sabotage our relationship, just as she had with others.

We confronted her. Michael, heartbroken, finally saw the manipulation for what it was. We walked away together, determined to reclaim our lives.

There was never a curse—only control. And now, we were free from it. Free to start anew.