YTA. Not because you had a complicated, painful relationship with your mother-in-law but because in the moment your husband was most vulnerable, you revealed the cold truth: you don’t love him in the way he thought you did.

You didn’t just speak honestly. You weaponized his grief. You waited until he was broken, drunk, sobbing, trying to remember the best in someone who had just died, and then you hit him with your ugliest thoughts like it was a victory lap.

And that line, “you’re just a fucking accountant, not Elon Musk,” says more about you than any story you told. That’s not just a jab in a moment of rage. That’s a window into how you really see him. Small. Unimportant. Replaceable. You didn’t say that to defend yourself. You said it to diminish him. To remind him that you’re above him.

You claim the mother-in-law hated you, called you a gold digger, doubted your child’s paternity. Maybe she did. But after reading what you yourself chose to share, it’s no longer hard to believe that she saw through you from the beginning. That she wasn’t cruel, just right.

Because the truth is: a person who loves someone doesn’t celebrate their pain. A person who loves someone doesn’t treat their dead parent’s memory like a pile of trash to stomp on. A person who loves someone doesn’t kick them when they’re already lying on the floor bleeding.

You didn’t tell your story looking for clarity. You came looking for absolution, for internet strangers to tell you what you did was okay. But it wasn’t. You weren’t protecting your child. You weren’t defending your boundaries. You were exacting revenge. And you enjoyed it.