You think you’re entering a dream when you marry the person you love. But that dream can quickly become a nightmare when you receive a list of rules about how to be a “good wife.” This is where my revenge started.
As a child, I always imagined that marriage would be different. I pictured Sunday mornings in bed, sharing laughs and secrets, and a partnership based on love and respect. But reality has a strange way of surprising you.
Dan and I had just gotten married. The wedding was perfect—small, intimate, everything I had always dreamed of. For a while, it felt like a fairy tale. Dan was kind and funny, and I truly believed we shared the same ideas about how we wanted to live our lives together. That was until Karen, his mother, gave me a gift after the ceremony.
I remember standing in our living room, still feeling happy from the wedding, when Karen came up to me with her “special” present.
“This is for you, Lucia. A little something to help you as you start your new role.” She handed me a fancy box with a big smile, but her eyes didn’t match her cheerful expression.
Inside the box was a neatly folded piece of paper. When I opened it, my mouth dropped. At the top, in bold letters, it said: “How to Be a Good Wife for My Son.”
At first, I laughed, thinking it was a joke. Maybe Karen was making fun of those old-fashioned ideas about marriage.
But as I kept reading, my smile faded. It was a real list—actual rules I was supposed to follow as Dan’s wife.
I looked at Dan, hoping he’d be as shocked as I was, but he was busy opening his own gift. A check. A big one, too. And me? I got a rulebook.
Later that evening, Dan came to me with a sheepish grin. “You got the rules my mom gave you, didn’t you?” he asked, as if it were just a casual suggestion, not a guide for a life of serving him.
“Yep… I did,” I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but not succeeding.
Dan shifted awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know, that’s just how it is now. Marriage is different from dating.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to smile, to say it was all a joke. But he didn’t.
“Wait… You’re serious?” I asked, looking at him like I didn’t recognize the man I had just married.
He shrugged. “It’s just how things are. Mom says it’s important to keep order, you know?”
I bit my lip, holding back a sharp reply. Keep order. That’s how they saw me now?
After Dan fell asleep, I read through the list again, my hands shaking with anger. I couldn’t believe the nerve.
At 6 a.m., I had to be fully dressed and made up, cooking a hot breakfast for Dan. No veggies, no milk, no butter—he only likes plain eggs and toast. The toast must be perfectly golden brown, and it has to be served on a blue plate because the green one ruins his appetite.
Do all the grocery shopping myself. Dan hates shopping, and it’s no place for a man. Always buy his favorite beer, but not too much—just enough for football nights, but not so much he gets lazy. And I had to carry everything in myself because it’s unladylike to ask for help.
After dinner, the kitchen had to be spotless before Dan even left the dining room. Men shouldn’t see a mess; they must enter a clean space. And always stack the plates by size, wiping the counters twice because Dan hates crumbs.
Dress conservatively when Dan’s friends come over. We don’t want them thinking I’m too “modern” or that I’m not the “right kind of wife.” A good wife never wears anything above the knee, and the neckline should always be high. Anything else would embarrass Dan in front of his buddies.
Make sure Dan never does his laundry. A good wife always has fresh, ironed clothes ready, and socks folded just right—three folds, not two—because that’s how Dan likes them. He should never have to pick out mismatched socks or wear a wrinkled shirt. It reflects poorly on me if he does.
By the time I finished reading, I was furious. This wasn’t just outdated advice; it was a full-on expectation that I cater to Dan’s every wish like I had no other purpose.
And the worst part? Dan was okay with it. He hadn’t even reacted when I mentioned the rules.
I felt trapped, but I wasn’t going to let them get away with this. If they wanted to play this game, I’d play along, but on my terms.
The morning after I read Karen’s list, I woke up at 6 a.m., just like the rules said. I got out of bed, put on my makeup, and slipped into a nice dress.
I looked at myself in the mirror, quietly laughing at how silly this all was. But if Karen wanted me to play this part, I would—just with a twist.
I went downstairs and made breakfast, just like the rules said: plain toast and eggs. But I didn’t stop there. I took the tiniest slice of toast and a plain boiled egg and put them on Dan’s huge blue plate. The plate was so big that the small meal looked ridiculous.
I carefully set it on the table, smiling sweetly as Dan walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes.
He looked at the plate, confused. “Isn’t there… anything else?”
I shook my head, smiling brightly. “Just following the rules. Plain eggs and toast! Want me to make another slice?”
Dan sighed, picking up the toast. “No… this is fine.”
I stood there watching him eat the driest breakfast ever, trying not to laugh. Oh, this was going to be entertaining.
Later that afternoon, I made a big show of going to the grocery store. I took my reusable bags and left the house, making sure Dan saw me go by myself, just like the rules said.
When I got back, I carried in all the bags myself, even the heavy ones. Dan watched from the couch, clearly uncomfortable but saying nothing. As I unpacked, he frowned.
“Where’s the beer? Did you forget it?” he asked.
“Oh no, I didn’t forget,” I said cheerfully. “I just didn’t want you getting lazy. Besides, sparkling water is good for you!”
I pulled out a six-pack of sparkling water, a big bottle of green juice, and some quinoa, knowing he wouldn’t touch any of them. Dan’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. I could see he was starting to realize something was off, but I was just getting started.
After dinner, I followed the other rules in the letter. I wiped down the counters, washed the dishes, and cleaned the kitchen—but not really.
Instead of putting everything back where it belonged, I rearranged the whole kitchen. Plates went in the bathroom cupboard, utensils in the laundry room, and the toaster? I put that in the hall closet.
Dan came into the kitchen, looking around in confusion. “Why is everything all over the place?”
I turned to him with a worried look. “I’m doing my best! Maybe I need to wipe the counters three times instead of two?”
He blinked at me, totally confused, but he let it go. The fun was just beginning.
When Dan’s friends came over for football night a few days later, I made sure to follow Karen’s rule about dressing modestly. I dug through my closet and found the most old-fashioned outfit I could: a long skirt, high-collared blouse, and a buttoned-up cardigan that looked like something from the 1800s.
As soon as Dan’s friends arrived, I walked into the living room with a tray of snacks. His friends looked me up and down, confused but polite enough not to say anything.
Dan pulled me aside as soon as he could, whispering, “You know you don’t have to dress like that, right?”
I widened my eyes innocently. “But your mom said I have to dress modestly. We wouldn’t want them getting the wrong idea about me, would we?”
Dan’s friends exchanged awkward glances, but I kept smiling sweetly. The look on Dan’s face was priceless; he was starting to see that I was flipping this whole “good wife” idea upside down, and he was stuck going along with it.
Laundry day came, and I followed the rules again, but with a twist. I washed all of Dan’s clothes together: whites, darks, colors—everything went in one load. When I pulled them out, his once-clean shirts were now a lovely shade of pink, and his socks were either shrunk or mismatched.
Dan opened his drawer the next morning, pulling out one wrinkled pink shirt after another. “What happened to my clothes? These socks don’t even match!”
I walked in with an apologetic look. “Oh no! I must’ve messed up. I’ll try folding them in threes next time, just like the rules say.”
He groaned, putting on his mismatched socks before heading to work, completely defeated. I couldn’t help but smile.
By the end of the week, Dan had had enough. He was trying to eat yet another bland breakfast when Karen arrived, her usual smile on her face. She sat at the table, looking pleased.
“Lucia, I’m so glad to see you following the rules! Isn’t life easier now?”
I laughed quietly. “Oh, Karen, you have no idea.”
Dan slammed his fork down, surprising both of us. “Mom, we need to talk.”
Karen blinked, confused. “Talk about what?”
“These rules… they’re crazy,” Dan said, his voice rising. “I’m miserable, Lucia’s miserable, and this isn’t how we’re going to live.”
Karen looked shocked. “But, Dan, I just want to make sure you’re taken care of! I thought this was how marriage should be!”
Dan shot me a glance, and I shrugged. I was just following the rules, right?
“We need to find our own way,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re my wife, not my maid.”
Karen’s face fell, her smile fading. “I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to upset you both…”
But it was too late. The damage was done. We spent the next few days talking about what we wanted our marriage to look like, finally finding a balance between his mom’s outdated ideas and our modern life.
The change didn’t happen overnight, but eventually, we found a way to laugh about the whole ordeal, especially when Dan had to explain to his mom why he was now making breakfast for me on Saturdays.
Karen never brought up the rules again, and I made sure to return the fancy box she gave me, filled with the crumpled paper and an assortment of mismatched socks. I told her I didn’t need them anymore.
Looking back, I can’t help but think that her gift, while ridiculous, actually brought us closer together. Dan and I learned how to communicate better, and we established what we wanted from our marriage without anyone else’s rules getting in the way.
My daughter-in-law brought my car back completely wrecked after visiting a friend – she refused to cover the repair costs, so I decided to teach her a lesson
“I’m fine, thanks,” I smiled, totally mesmerized by my son’s choice. “You look wonderful, Layla!”
At that moment, I had no clue how this woman would soon come into our lives and pull my son away from me. She seemed so nice; I never would have guessed just how cunning she really was.
Toby and Layla tied the knot just six months after our first meeting. I was so happy for my son as he started a new chapter of his life, and my heart was full of good wishes for him. I remember how I couldn’t stop weeping when my boy said his vows like a grown-up man.
Not long after the wedding, Toby and Layla invited me over to their place for lunch. I thought it would be a nice bonding session with my daughter-in-law since it was just the three of us, but it was anything but that.
Toby had asked me to be there at 2 p.m., but I arrived about 10 minutes late, and Layla took that as an opportunity to create a scene.
“Why are you so late, Jennifer?” she asked as soon as I stepped inside the house. I couldn’t see Toby anywhere near the entrance. “I’ve been waiting for you for so long!”
“I… I got late because of the traffic,” I stammered, taken aback by the unexpected confrontation.
“I don’t like hosting people who can’t value my time,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry for that, Layla,” I apologized. “But it was just 10 minutes.”
“I don’t care if it was 10 minutes or 10 hours,” she shot me an angry look. “You need to be on time when you come to my place, underst—”
“Oh, Mom! You’re here!” Toby interrupted. “How are you, my lovely lady?”
“I’m fine, Toby,” I said, hugging him, still reeling from Layla’s behavior. “How are you, my love? Looks like you haven’t been eating well.”
“Nah, I’m good, Mom,” he smiled. “What were you guys talking about?”
“Your wife was say—”
“Nothing, babe,” Layla cut me off. “I was just telling her how beautiful she looks today.”
“Yeah?” Toby’s gaze shifted from his wife to me. “My mom always looks the best!”
At that point, I was stunned by Layla’s behavior. Why was she being so sweet to me in front of Toby? And why didn’t she let me tell him what she had said earlier?
I spent the rest of the afternoon at their house, observing how Layla effortlessly switched on her sweet personality whenever Toby was around. But when he wasn’t looking, she’d throw mean remarks to make me feel unwelcome.
That day marked the beginning of my strained relationship with my daughter-in-law.
Then, one day, I noticed how Toby began taking her side whenever Layla and I argued in front of him.
“Layla’s right, Mom,” Toby said one day when we were at a restaurant deciding what to order for dinner. “We don’t need a large bowl of salad. It’s just the three of us. We’ll manage with a small bowl.”
“See, I’ve been telling your mother to order the small bowl, but she never listens to me,” Layla chuckled. “I don’t know why she never trusts me.”
She played the victim in front of him, and my poor boy always fell for it. I don’t blame him; he had seen his father always side with me. But I wasn’t like Layla. I wasn’t pretending to be a good daughter-in-law in front of my husband.
Layla’s behavior toward me didn’t change until the day she called me. I was genuinely surprised to see her name on my phone screen.
“Hi, Jen!” she chirped through the phone.
Jen? I thought. That’s weird.
“Hi, Layla,” I played along, trying to sound as sweet as possible. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” she said. “I was wondering if I could borrow your car tomorrow. Would that be okay with you?”
“My car?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Actually, I was supposed to visit my friend today. She lives a few hours away, but I couldn’t go because my car broke down. The mechanic says it’ll take a few days before he can fix it.”
“Oh, my! Sounds like there’s a major problem,” I said, genuinely concerned.
“I was so upset, but then Toby suggested I ask if you could lend me your car for a day,” she continued. “I’ll be back in a week.”
A week? I thought. That’s a lot.
But I felt bad for her. She sounded desperate, and she mentioned Toby had suggested it, so I didn’t want to let her down. I also saw it as a chance to mend our relationship.
“Sure, I don’t mind,” I said. “You can come over today if you want.”
And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
A week later, Layla and Toby returned my car, but I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw it. It was covered in scratches, dents, and dust. And the inside? It smelled like rotten onions!
“What have you done to my car?” I spat out. “What happened?”
“Excuse me?” she said, squinting her eyes as if I’d said something outrageous. “What did I do to your car? It was like this when I picked it up the other day.”
“Stop it, Layla!” I yelled at her. “Stop lying.”
“You think I’m lying?” she snapped, turning to Toby. “Babe, look at her! She’s accusing me of lying! How dare she?”
“Mom, Layla’s right,” Toby said. “She told me your car was like this when she picked it up the other day. She’s not lying.”
“Toby? Are you serious?” I stared at him in shock, realizing there was no point in arguing with them.
I had no proof, and neither did she. But Toby sided with her because he was so blindly in love with her.
I realized that arguing might even push my son away, so I decided to teach Layla a lesson instead. I spent the night researching online and stumbled across an incredible idea. A quick call to the nearby pet shop, and my plan was in motion.
The next night, I drove over to their place armed with animal attractant sprays. I carefully sprayed them all over their backyard, driveway, and front porch, making sure to stay out of sight.
With the lights off, I knew they were asleep. I quickly executed my plan and quietly drove away, feeling a mix of nerves and satisfaction.
I was certain this would teach Layla not to mess with me again.
The next morning, I woke up to my phone ringing. It was Toby.
“Mom, I need help!” he cried over the phone.
“What happened, honey?” I asked, feigning ignorance. “Are you okay?”
“We just woke up, and it’s awful here! The yard stinks, and wild animals have turned our place into a toilet! The whole house smells horrible, and we don’t know what to do!”
I secretly smirked, listening to him rant about the mess. The irony was delicious.
“Oh, my!” I pretended to be surprised. “That sounds horrible. I guess that’s what happens when you ruin someone else’s property.”
I don’t know if Toby caught my meaning, but I’m sure his clever wife knew those animals didn’t show up by chance. She had to know it was me, her oh-so-nice mother-in-law, who never fought back before.
Since that day, Layla hasn’t dared to mess with me. We met at a dinner once, and she didn’t try to be rude or complain about me wasting her time. Meanwhile, Toby started calling me regularly, checking in to see how I was doing.
I guess my dear husband Nathan was right after all. My son did need me to pull him out of the trance Layla had drawn him into. He needed me to stand up for myself and set a boundary his wife wouldn’t dare cross again.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
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