I’ve been married to Richard for three years. We have happy life in the suburbs, successful careers, and a solid relationship.

Well, except for one tiny detail that’s been driving me up the wall.

Monica puts on this sweet act whenever we’re face to face. She’ll hug me and call me “sweetheart” and “darling,” but behind the scenes?

That’s where the real show begins.

I remember this one time when Richard and I were hosting a family BBQ. I was preparing the salads in the kitchen when I overheard her talking to Richard’s cousin in the living room.

Monica is one of those people who always find something to criticize.

Everything was going well until Monica showed up with her own “backup pie.” Why? Because she “wasn’t sure if everyone would like MY cooking!”

But the worst example?

That would be the time she cornered Richard in the garage during our housewarming party.

“Richard, honey,” she was saying,

“I’m just concerned. Katie seems nice, but don’t you think you rushed into this marriage? Sarah from church has a lovely daughter who’s just finished medical school.

She always asks about you, you know. Such a shame you never gave her a chance.”

Richard shut that down immediately. “Mom, I love Katie.

Please stop trying to set me up with other women. I’m married!”

These incidents were annoying, sure, but I could handle them. What I couldn’t handle, though, was her absolute obsession with getting into our bedroom.

I still can’t figure out what she was hoping to find.

Whatever it was, she was determined to find it.

It began three months ago when Monica excused herself to use the bathroom during a dinner party.

We have a neat guest bathroom right next to the living room downstairs. But no. She just had to use the one in our master bedroom upstairs.

“Oh, I just prefer more private bathrooms,” she’d said when Richard questioned her choice.

“You never know who’s used these guest bathrooms.”

I thought it was odd but didn’t say anything.

I waited a few minutes after she went upstairs, then quietly followed her.

“Monica? What are you doing in here?”

“Oh! Katie!” she turned around, looking at me with wide eyes.

“I was just looking for the bathroom.”

“The bathroom’s through that door,” I said pointedly.

“The one you haven’t gone near since you came up here.”

“Well, I… I got turned around. These big houses can be so confusing. So many doors!” She gave a nervous laugh.

“Though while I’m here, I noticed your dresser could use some organizing. I’d be happy to show you my method sometime…”

That night, I told Richard everything after she left.

“Rich, your mother was going through our personal stuff! Our private documents!

Our drawers!” I was pacing back and forth in our bedroom. “This isn’t okay! What was she even looking for?”

“Come on, Katie,” he said.

“I’m sure she was just confused. Mom wouldn’t do that. She probably just got lost looking for the bathroom.”

“Lost?

This isn’t the first time she’s done this, and you know it. Enough is enough! I’m installing a lock on our bedroom door.

The same kind we put on the home office.”

I need to lock the door, I reminded myself.

However, I couldn’t find the key anywhere. I looked for it for about 30 minutes before Richard confessed he had it.

“Okay, fine,” I said. “On one condition.

Let me put some glitter on the doorknob. If your mom doesn’t try to get in, there won’t be any problem, right?”

He agreed, probably thinking I was being ridiculous.

We ran upstairs and saw Monica standing in front of our bedroom door, covered head to toe in golden glitter.

“You!” Monica was looking like a furious disco ball.

“You did this on purpose! Richard, look what your wife did to me!”

Sally gasped, rushing to her mother’s side.

“Katie, how could you? Mom, your new cashmere sweater! It’s ru:ined!”

I couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, Monica, if you’d used the guest bathroom like a normal person, this wouldn’t have happened. Why were you trying to get into our bedroom again?”

“Katie, this is too much,” Richard intervened. “You went way too far.”

“I have never been so humiliated in my life!” she cried.

“Sally, we’re leaving.

And Richard, you need to have a serious think about the kind of woman you’ve married!”

“The kind of woman who protects her privacy?” I shot back. “Maybe you need to think about why you’re so obsessed with snooping through our bedroom!”

He confronted me and was too upset about what I had done.

“That was completely unnecessary,” he said.

“You embarrassed my whole family. Mom’s probably going to be finding glitter in her hair for weeks.”