It all started innocently enough. My husband’s cousin needed a place to stay for a few weeks, maybe a month, and we agreed to help out. Family is family, right? I thought I could handle it, even if we didn’t know each other that well. What harm could come from offering a roof to someone in need? I thought it would be temporary—a small favor we’d barely notice. But the moment he walked through the door with his luggage and a strange grin, I knew I’d made a mistake.

At first, it was just small, weird things. His awkward comments that seemed to linger a little too long, the way he stared at me from across the room, and how he’d always conveniently show up wherever I happened to be in the house. I chalked it up to my imagination, convincing myself that I was just being paranoid. But soon, I couldn’t ignore the creeping discomfort that grew every time I was alone with him.

There was that one night when I was watching TV in the living room, trying to relax after a long day. I felt his eyes on me from the hallway. He stood there, just watching, not saying a word. I asked him if he needed something, and he just smiled—a slow, unsettling smile—and said, “Just passing by.” But he didn’t move. I felt a chill run down my spine, and I realized that this wasn’t just him being odd. There was something more to his behavior, something that made me feel unsafe in my own home.

I tried to talk to my husband about it, but he brushed it off. “That’s just how he is,” he said, laughing it away. “He’s always been a little weird, but he’s harmless.” I wanted to believe him, but the way his cousin looked at me when my husband wasn’t around told me otherwise.

The most unsettling moment happened a few days ago. I was getting ready for bed, brushing my hair in front of the mirror in our bathroom. The door was slightly ajar, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw him standing in the hallway, just watching me. I froze, my heart pounding in my chest. I turned to face him, and he quickly walked away as if nothing had happened. But I knew what I saw, and it confirmed what I had been feeling all along—he wasn’t just being weird, he was crossing boundaries.

Now I feel trapped. I don’t want to make a scene or cause tension between my husband and his family, but I also can’t keep living like this. Every time I hear footsteps in the house, I tense up, wondering if it’s him creeping around. I’ve started locking the bathroom door and making sure I’m never alone with him, but the tension is unbearable.

I’m at a loss for what to do. I’ve tried hinting to my husband that maybe it’s time for his cousin to find another place to stay, but he keeps insisting that it’s only for a little while longer. How much longer can I put up with this? I don’t want to seem unreasonable, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is off.

The worst part is that I’m starting to dread being in my own home. The place that used to be my sanctuary now feels invaded, unsafe. I’m walking on eggshells, constantly on edge, trying to navigate this uncomfortable situation without blowing everything up.

I know I have to talk to my husband again, but how do I get him to see what I’m seeing? How do I explain that his cousin isn’t just “weird” but that he’s making me feel genuinely uneasy? I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine when every fiber of my being is screaming that it’s not. I need to figure out a way to get this man out of our house before things get worse.