Richard and I exchanged vows with no one but nature (and two fishermen) as our witness. No guests. No grand displays. Just us, vowing to face the world together.

Richard is from a wealthy family, while I grew up poor. All my life, I met people who looked down on me because of my background. Now I have a good job and earn enough.

Richard and I have always maintained a strong relationship regardless of our different backgrounds.

But Diane – my MIL, her reaction when Richard called to tell her we got married says it all. She completely dismissed our intimate ceremony, saying Richard deserved a luxury wedding people would talk about for years, not some “cheap elopement.”

On Christmas, I met Diane for the first time.

I bought two gifts for her: a hand-painted stone with her cat Mittens depicted on it, and a Gucci bag – a very expensive one.

Richard took me to Diane’s estate.

“Richard!” Diane’s voice floated toward us before she appeared, arms wide. She hugged him tight.

When she pulled back, her eyes found me.

“Oh, Suzy,” she said, her gaze traveling from my face to my shoes. “You’re taller than I expected.”

I bit down on the edge of my smile. “It’s ‘Sue,’ not Suzy.”

“Sue, Suzy, they’re very similar. You have a… strong presence,” she added, her lips stretching into a polite, thin smile.

“Shall we?” she said, turning on her heel. We followed, and her home swallowed us whole.

“So,” she said, passing us our drinks, “I believe you two met at work before you impulsively eloped. What is it you do again, Sue? Secretarial work perhaps?”

“I’m VP of Marketing,” I said.

“That’s nice,” she replied, like I’d said I worked at a local bakery.

After twenty minutes of shallow conversation, I said, “I brought you something, Diane,”

“For me?” she asked.

“Just a little something I thought you’d appreciate.”

Diane’s eyes flicked to me briefly, and she opened the gift.

“Oh,” she said, tilting it in the light. “This is… interesting. Cute.”

“Sue painted it herself,” Richard said.

Diane hummed. “That’s lovely. It’s such a pity I don’t have a space suitable for something so… folksy. Perhaps it will look nice near Mittens’s water fountain.”

Her eyes cut toward me. My cheeks burned. “Of course,” I murmured.

I knew the gift wasn’t spectacular, but to suggest placing something I’d spent so much time painting and perfecting near a glorified water bowl hit hard.

But the second part of the test still lay under the couch, nestled in its sleek gift bag. It was waiting.

“Your turn,” Diane said, holding out a small package wrapped in wrinkled tissue paper. “This is for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, trying not to overthink it.

It was small. I peeled back the paper. A $20 movie theater gift card stared back at me.

“Movies,” Diane said brightly. “Everyone likes movies.”

Richard stiffened beside me.

“Mom,” he muttered.

Diane’s eyes widened. “What? It’s practical.”

I leaned forward slowly, pulling the second gift from under the couch. It was time.

I placed the Gucci bag on her lap, folding my hands neatly in my lap.

“Almost forgot,” I said with a smile that felt delicious on my face. “Merry Christmas, Diane.”

Her eyes widened, a greedy gleam lighting her gaze. Slowly, she pulled the bag free, inspecting the seams, the zipper, and even the tag.

She thinks it’s fake.

Her gaze cut to Richard, not me. Never me.

“Well, well,” she said, her tone light but sharp as broken glass. “Richard, you shouldn’t have let her buy this for me. Probably with your money, too.”

“No,” Richard said. “She bought it herself.”

She blinked, fast and shallow, like she’d been caught mid-lie. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, you did,” he cut in, and this time his jaw tight enough to crack.

“Sue is my wife, Mom, and I expect you to respect her. She carefully selected both those gifts for you… it’s a shame you seem to care more for the expensive gift than you do for the one from the heart.”

Silence. Diane pressed her fingers into the Gucci bag’s leather. Her eyes darted to Richard, then to me, her smile brittle as porcelain left too long in the sun.

“Of course, Richard,” she said with a light laugh that didn’t match her eyes. “I meant no offense.”

“Of course,” I echoed softly.

My gaze flicked to the cat stone at the far end of the coffee table. But the Gucci bag? That, she clutched with both hands like it might disappear if she didn’t hold it tight enough.

She might not have passed the test, but at least now I knew what really mattered to Diane.

Hold it tight, Diane. Hold it close. Every time you do, you’ll think of me.