“Get Out of My House!” I exclaimed to my mother-in-law as she once again started hurling insults my way.

Get out of my house! I shouted at my motherinlaw when she started hurling abuse at me again.

The only thing I ever truly dreaded in my life was the fiery temper of the woman who had become my motherinlaw, a woman I had once been married to. In that regard I suppose I was lucky. My first husband, Edward, had grown up in a London orphanage and knew no parents. Our marriage collapsed after just five years, and I filed for divorce. We had wed while I was still a student at university. A year into the marriage Edward took to drinking, fell into debt and let his obligations spill over onto me. I was forced to abandon my studies, take a job and pay off the pounds he owed.

That union had brought me nothing but trouble. When the papers were signed I felt a weight lift from my shoulders; at last there would be no more quarrels.

For two lonely years I nursed my wounds, gathering myself piece by piece. Then I met Robert, a bachelor who had never been married nor kept a serious relationship. Things moved swiftly. He proposed, I said yes, and we went to see his mother.

The moment we crossed the threshold I saw the displeasure etched on Mrs. Whitakers face. She tossed a curt greeting at me and vanished into another room. At first I could not tell what was wrong perhaps my dress was out of place but I was modestly attired. When she finally sat down at the table she stared at me in silence, an expression that made my skin crawl. As a blush rose to my cheeks she launched into a cutting remark.

So youre here, with no proper training? she said with a thin smile and a hint of contempt. I paused, then answered calmly, sipping my tea. Yes, my education is unfinished. Life simply took me in a different direction and I never managed to complete my degree, but I intend to finish it one day.

She snorted loudly.

Finishing your studies, you say? And when you become a wife, what then? When will you raise children, cook for your husband, clean the house? Youre a proper little princess. She laughed again, took another sip, set her cup down and added, Let me tell you something, my son does not need a virgin like you at all. To me youre average in looks and figure, and you have no sense whatsoever.

In that instant I felt humiliated. I rose from the table, fled to the bathroom and broke down in tears. A stranger was insulting me for no reason, and my husband said nothing. It was a relief that we left the house quickly.

I resolved never to step foot in her home again, yet she kept turning up at our house, each visit a fresh attempt to wound me with cruel words. I even consulted a psychologist to find a way out. After several sessions it became clear that my motherinlaw was a classic manipulator and I had been a victim because Id let her treat me that way. The next time she began her tirade, I told her flatout to leave my house.

We have not seen each other since, and I could not care less. My husband has nothing to say about it now, and I finally live in peace, looking back on those bitter days as a lesson learned long ago.