My MIL Left the House Every Thursday & Returned Smelling Terribly — I Went Pale When I Discovered Why

They say you never really know someone until youve lived with them. I thought I knew my mother-in-law, but everything changed when I decided to follow her. What I uncovered wasnt just a secret; it was a ticking time bomb that threatened the peace of our home.

I used to think my life was predictable, with its comforting routine. I worked as a freelance graphic designer, which gave me the flexibility to be home most days while still bringing in a decent income.

A woman working on her laptop from home | Source: Midjourney

Xander, my husband, worked long hours at his law firm, so I often had the house to myself. It was peaceful until my mother-in-law, Cordelia, moved in three months ago.

After her husband passed away, she called us one night, her voice trembling.

“Olive, dear… I dont know how to do this on my own,” shed sobbed over the phone. “The house is so empty, so lonely… I just need to be around my family.”

An extremely sad senior woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

I glanced at Xander, and he nodded, looking concerned. We agreed to let Cordelia move in; it felt like the right thing to do for a grieving woman whod just lost her partner of 40 years. But from the start, something felt off.

Cordelia had always been a little strange, but now her behavior was unpredictable. Every Thursday, she would leave early in the morning and return late in the evening, her clothes carrying a terrible stench: something rotten and damp, like decay. It lingered, clinging to the air and making me question what she was really up to.

A woman looks thoughtful and curious while sitting at home | Source: Midjourney

“Mom, where were you today?” Xander asked her one Thursday evening as she shuffled into the kitchen, her eyes avoiding ours. I stood by the stove, pretending to stir a pot of soup, trying not to wrinkle my nose at the smell.

“Oh, just out with some old friends,” she said, waving a hand dismissively, her smile tight and unconvincing.

A senior woman forces a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

“Every Thursday?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “That must be some social circle.”

She glanced at me, her eyes lingering a moment too long, then shrugged. “We like to meet regularly. Its good for the soul, you know, catching up with old friends.”

But that smell — it was like shed been crawling through a sewer. The scent lingered long after shed passed, a pungent blend of garbage and something wet and decayed. I could feel my curiosity gnawing at me, the way you cant help but poke at a sore tooth.

A curious woman standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

One Wednesday night, I couldnt take it anymore. “Xander,” I whispered, nudging him awake. “Are you seriously buying that story?”

He blinked sleepily. “What story?”

“Your moms out with old friends story,” I replied. “Every Thursday? And that smell… its not normal.”

He sighed. “Maybe shes just grieving in her own way, Olive. People cope differently.”

I felt my jaw tighten. “And what way is that? Dumpster diving?”

He chuckled softly, half-asleep, “Let it go, love. Its probably nothing.”

A man chuckles softly while lying in bed at night | Source: Midjourney

But it didnt feel like “nothing.” It felt like a secret, and I needed to know.

The next Thursday, I called in sick and decided to follow her. I waited by the window, peeking through the blinds like some kind of amateur detective. Cordelia left the house at her usual time, dressed in her oversized coat, clutching her handbag tightly.

I kept a safe distance as she walked down the street, turning left at the end and then another left into an alley I didnt even know existed. My heart pounded in my chest as I tailed her.

A woman is out on the street, looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

She stopped at the corner and looked around like she was checking for someone or something.

“Where are you going, Cordelia?” I whispered, more curious than ever.

I was expecting something harmless, maybe even laughable, like an old ladies knitting club or maybe a bingo night in a creepy basement. But what I found inside was nothing like that.

Cordelia didnt meet up with friends. Instead, she made her way through the shadiest part of town, slipping into an old, run-down building that looked like it could collapse at any moment.

A senior woman standing outside an old building | Source: Midjourney

I hesitated outside, the walls covered in graffiti and the windows boarded up, but I took a deep breath and followed her inside. The air was thick with smoke, the kind that sticks to your skin, and the room was filled with the low hum of murmurs and distant laughter.

Thats when I saw it: a hidden, illegal casino tucked away in the back, reeking of stale smoke and the sour smell of desperation. The dimly lit room was filled with flashing lights and the sounds of poker chips clinking filled the air.

Stacks of poker chips on a table | Source: Pexels

And there, in the middle of it all, was my mother-in-law. Not just “hanging out with friends,” but gambling away every penny she could get her hands on, her eyes fixed on the cards in front of her, her hands trembling with each bet she placed.

I stayed in the shadows, barely breathing, watching her play hand after hand. She looked different, haggard, almost like she was wearing the weight of every decision shed ever made. Her lips were moving, but I couldnt hear what she was saying over the noise.

A grayscale photo of a senior woman sitting in a casino with gambling chips lying on her table | Source: Midjourney

I saw her lose money, win a little, then lose it all again. She seemed almost possessed, her fingers shaking as she reached for the chips, her face lined with a mixture of desperation and obsession.

I wanted to pull her out of there, to grab her by the arm and drag her home, but I couldnt move. I felt frozen, glued to the spot. I needed to see how far she would go. She didnt leave until late in the evening, and when she finally did, she looked exhausted.

A senior woman looks exhausted while sitting in a casino | Source: Midjourney

Her eyes were glazed over, and her shoulders slumped like she was carrying the weight of her losses on her back.

I waited until she turned the corner before I followed, keeping my distance. As we walked back, I felt a wave of anger and pity twisting in my stomach. What had she gotten herself into? And why hadnt she told us?

The next morning, I couldnt hold it in any longer. At breakfast, I set my coffee cup down a little too hard. “Cordelia, where were you yesterday?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

A woman looks serious while standing in the kitchen and looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

She barely looked up from her cereal. “With friends, like I told you.”

“Stop lying, Cordelia,” I snapped. “I followed you. I know where you were.”

Her spoon clattered against the bowl, and she went pale. “You… you followed me?”

Xander looked between us, confused. “Whats going on?”

“She wasnt with friends, Xander,” I said, my gaze fixed on her. “She was at an illegal casino, gambling. And from the looks of it, shes been doing it for a while.”

A senior woman gambling in a casino | Source: Midjourney

Cordelias face crumpled, and she broke down. “I… Im sorry,” she sobbed. “Ive lost everything… everything. I had nowhere else to go. Thats why I begged you to let me stay. I was ashamed, and I didnt know how to tell you…”

Xanders face turned a deep shade of red. “You mean to tell me youve been lying to us this whole time? Using us?”

“I didnt mean to!” she cried. “I didnt know how to stop. I thought maybe… maybe I could win it all back.”

A grayscale photo of a senior woman looking sad and desperate | Source: Midjourney

I felt a pang of guilt, but it was overshadowed by the anger boiling inside me. “Youve been draining us, Cordelia. We took you in because we cared, not so you could feed your addiction.”

She looked at me, her face streaked with tears. “I know, Im so sorry. I promise Ill change. Just… dont throw me out. Please.”

That night, Xander and I lay in bed, unable to sleep. “We have to do something,” I whispered. “We cant just let her keep doing this.”

Xander sighed deeply. “What do you suggest, Olive? Tough love?”

A man looking at his wife while sitting in bed at night | Source: Midjourney

I nodded. “Exactly. If shes not going to stop on her own, then well have to make her stop.”

The following Thursday, I handed her a large sum of cash, more than she had seen in one place since shed moved in with us. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I saw that familiar spark of greed.

“Go ahead,” I said, forcing a smile. “Take this and do whatever you want with it.”

A woman forcing a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

She hesitated for just a second before snatching the money and stuffing it into her purse.

“Thank you, Olive,” she murmured, her voice shaking, but she didnt meet my eyes. And then she was gone, practically running out the door.

Xander stood behind me, his arms crossed. “Are you sure about this?”

“Trust me,” I replied. “She wont get far.”

Earlier that day, I had made a few calls, and by the time Cordelia reached the casino, the place was swarming with undercover cops. The raid went down right as she was about to hand over the cash.

Two cops standing in a casino | Source: Midjourney

I wasnt there to see it, but I could imagine the look on her face: shock, maybe a little betrayal, as they caught her red-handed, along with the owners of the illegal casino.

That evening, the phone rang. It was the police. “Mrs. Fields?” the officer said. “We have your mother-in-law in custody.”

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“We know,” I replied calmly. “And were not bailing her out. You should know shes been struggling with a gambling addiction. We want her to get help.”

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney

The officer seemed taken aback but eventually agreed to include our statement in the report. The judge showed no mercy; Cordelia was sentenced to mandatory rehabilitation and a hefty fine.

Months later, when she was released from rehab, Cordelia looked different. She seemed smaller, more fragile. She stood in our doorway, wringing her hands.

“Im so sorry,” she whispered, her voice raw. “I know I hurt you both, and Im ready to make it right. I want to rebuild my life.”

A senior woman looks sad and ashamed | Source: Midjourney

Xander and I exchanged a look. He stepped forward, his expression soft but firm.

“Were willing to give you another chance, Mom,” he said, “but on our terms. Weve found you a modest apartment nearby. Well cover the rent, but only if you keep your word and attend your support group meetings.”

Cordelia nodded eagerly, tears in her eyes. “I will. I swear. Thank you… thank you for giving me a chance.”

As we watched her walk away to her new home, I couldnt help but feel a flicker of hope mixed with the fear of another betrayal.

A woman looks hopeful and a bit fearful while standing outside her house and looking at something | Source: Midjourney

Wed done all we could, and the rest was up to her. The ball was in her court, and only time would tell if she could truly change.

If this story warmed your heart, check out another exciting read by clicking here: Natasha knew she got lucky in the mother-in-law department, with Marlene cherishing her like her own daughter.

But when Natasha starts to see a change in Marlenes behavior, she begins to get worried about the old woman. Eventually, when the truth is revealed, Natasha doesnt know what to do.

Two women cooking together | Source: Pexels

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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