My husband, Will, never talked much about his parents. When he did, his voice would turn hollow, like he was reading from someone else's script.

"They kicked me out when I was 16," he told me one night, his fingers tracing invisible patterns on our kitchen table. "Said I was an 'extra burden' because they needed to focus on my younger brother."

"At 16?" I reached for his hand. "What did you do?"

"Nothing I could control. My brother was born with a heart condition. They said my college funds had to go to his medical bills. Fair enough, I understood that part. But then they decided I was somehow taking away emotional resources too... like loving both sons was impossible."

Will's voice cracked slightly. "My mom actually told me I was 'draining their capacity to care' just by existing in the same house."

"And they just kicked you out?"

Will shrugged, but I could see the old pain flickering behind his eyes. "I survived. Got jobs. Lived with friends until I could afford my own place. Worked my way through college. Built everything from nothing."

Over the years, he tried reaching out to them. He sent birthday cards, made Christmas calls, and even stopped by their house once. But each attempt was met with the same cold indifference.

"They're obsessed with my brother," he explained. "Jason can barely hold a job, but in their eyes, he's PERFECT. Meanwhile, I'm the IT director at a major company, and they still look at me like I'm NOTHING."

"They sound terrible," I said, squeezing his hand.

Will gave me a sad smile, pulling me into a hug. "They are. But they're still my parents. I keep hoping they'll see me... someday."

"Do you want to invite them to the wedding?" I asked cautiously.

He hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Then let's do it. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Oh, Taylor," Will laughed, but there was no humor in it. "You have no idea."

We sent the invitations. They never RSVP'd, and we assumed they wouldn't show up.

Then, during our reception, I spotted them. My in-laws, Cameron and Angie, stood awkwardly near the dessert table, looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.

"Will," I whispered, nudging him. "Your parents are here."

His face went pale. "Are you sure?"

I nodded toward the couple. The resemblance was unmistakable — Will had his father's height and his mother's eyes.

Will took a deep breath. "Let's go say hello."

The introductions were painfully stilted. Cameron barely looked at me, while Angie's smile never reached her eyes.

"So," his mother said, looking around the venue with thinly veiled disdain. "This is... nice. Very... modest."

Will's jaw tightened. "We're happy with it."

"I suppose it's all you could afford," his father added, sipping his champagne like it was vinegar. "IT work doesn't pay what it used to, does it?"

"Actually, I'm doing quite well," Will replied evenly.

"Oh, so you're not a failure after all?" His mother's laugh was sharp as glass.

"Wow, guess you're not as useless as we thought," his father chimed in.

I felt Will's hand tighten around mine. In six years of our relationship, and I'd never seen him this tense.

"Did her parents pay for all this?" his mother asked, looking directly at me now. "Must be nice to have family willing to support you."

Something in Will snapped. I saw it happen the exact moment his patience evaporated.

"Actually," he said, his voice deadly calm, "my in-laws didn't pay for anything. Neither did my parents. I did. You see, some of us learn to survive without mommy and daddy's help."

They both blinked, momentarily stunned into silence.

"Well," his mother finally said, her voice cold. "Congratulations on your... achievement."

They left soon after, leaving behind a cheap vase as a wedding gift. The price tag was still on it.

"I'm sorry about them," Will said later that night.

I kissed him softly. "Forget them. We have our honeymoon to look forward to."

That made him smile. "Two weeks in paradise. Just you and me."

"Just you and me!" I echoed.

Paradise, as it turned out, had unexpected residents.

Our villa was gorgeous — all white walls and blue ocean views, with a private pool and garden. We saved for a year to afford it, pinching pennies and working overtime. It was meant to be our reward... our escape.

But as we pushed open the front door, lugging our suitcases behind us, we FROZE.

The living room was littered with unfamiliar bags. Clothes were draped over the furniture. Empty glasses sat on the coffee table. And there, lounging on our sofa like they owned the place, were Cameron and Angie, plus a younger man I assumed was Will's brother.