Grandma's gaze then landed on me, filled with more accusation, "You and your haircut! It's your fault! Jack was too decent to just go out and drink and drive!"
Realizing this was going nowhere and bracing for more fallout, Susan and Mom shared a look and finally said, "Mom, go back home. Let us think this through."
With that, Grandma and Linda left.
Once they were gone, Susan revealed a staggering secret to my mom.
Jack had been infertile all along!
After much prodding, Susan finally spilled the beans, "During a routine work physical, it came out that Jack had fertility issues—his sperm count was too low to get anyone pregnant."
I was stunned and blurted out, "So Aunt Linda must've cheated on him."
Our top priority was finding proof of her affair.
"Look at this!"
Mom gasped, showing us her phone.
It was a video Linda posted. In the clip, she was dressed in tattered clothes, looking pitiful.
Odd, since she'd been wearing a fancy fur coat when she left our place.
"My nephew and my husband had a fight, and that brat went and cut his hair during the New Year! Everyone knows starting the year with drastic changes brings bad luck to your uncle! My husband died the day after he did it!"
The internet was divided.
Some called it out as outdated superstition, saying this whole hair-cutting curse was nonsense.
Others sided with the grieving, pregnant widow, lashing out at us for not supporting her.
[Everybody knows utterly changing your look in New Year is a jinx! This is a long-standing tradition! And yet here comes some disrespectful kid messing with fate. What a tragedy!]
[Look how shabby her clothes are; clearly, she's being mistreated by her in-laws. I support her! The family should pay up!]
[How are people supposed to enjoy the holidays like this? Pay her off already! You can't just kill someone and walk away! Actions have consequences!]
Seeing public opinion shift in her favor, I knew Linda was playing her cards.
She was trying to use the media to corner us into signing a custody deal.
We had to act fast and put a stop to this.
Early the next morning, I set out to visit Linda's hometown.
But as soon as I opened the door, there she was.
She was holding a can of red paint, scrawling "An eye for an eye!" on our front door.
"Give me back my husband! Give me back my happiness!"
I scowled, stepping closer, and she quickly backed away.
I wasn't about to hit a woman.