I stood alone in the hotel lobby, suitcase at my feet, staring at the text from my husband: “Relax, it’s just a prank.”

“Would you like to keep your current room?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said.

“But can you move me?”

His eyebrows rose slightly.

“To a different floor,” I added. “Preferably far from them.”

He gave a faint smile. “I can do that.”

Ten minutes later, I was in a quiet corner suite on the twelfth floor, with a city view, a king bed, and enough distance from Ethan’s family to finally breathe.

I showered, changed into a hotel robe, and sat on the edge of the bed staring at my phone as messages poured in.

Diane: Where are you?

Megan, Ethan’s sister: Okay, you can stop sulking and come upstairs.