In the aftermath of her crumbling marriage, April faces a new challenge as her in-laws invade her privacy, searching for evidence of her guilt. But the tables turn dramatically when they stumble upon unexpected proof of their son’s secret life.
A woman knitting | Source: Pexels
I’m April, ready to spill some tea on a bizarre chapter of my life that has just unfolded. It’s about how my in-laws got a taste of their own medicine most unexpectedly. So, buckle up!
A bit about me first: I’m 28, a lover of art, a tad bit impulsive, and recently, heartbreakingly single.
A woman in a museum | Source: Pexels
My now estranged husband Liam, who’s 30, seemed like the love of my life until a few months into our marriage when a bombshell dropped. He told me he was bisexual.
A loving couple | Source: Shutterstock
I won’t lie; it floored me—not the bisexuality but the hiding it. After a whirlwind of emotions, I decided I was okay with it as long as we stayed monogamous.
A couple sitting apart after an argument | Source: Getty Images
No open relationships for me, thank you very much. I was clear: “If that’s what you want, then you need to be with someone else because it’s not me.”
Liam promised me I was the only one for him, that he didn’t need anyone else. Turns out, promises are sometimes just pretty lies.
A couple holding hands as a gesture of support | Source: Getty Images
Fast forward a bit, and guess what? I found out he was having an affair. And not just any affair, but with another man.
How, you ask? Oh, the modern way—through his iPad which was as unfaithful in keeping secrets as he was. The photos were… let’s just say, very Mapplethorpe-esque.
A white iPad on a brown table | Source: Pexels
The confrontation that followed was epic. “I can’t believe you would do this to us!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls of what used to be our dream home.
A couple arguing | Source: Getty Images
He just stood there, with no words, no apologies—nothing. That was the last straw. “I don’t want you in my house again. Ever,” I told him, and I meant every word.
After our massive blowout, Liam had to get his stuff, but there was no way I was letting him stroll back into my life—or my house, for that matter.
A man texting | Source: Pexels
So, we agreed he would send me a list, and I would pack everything up neatly in a box. Simple, right? Well, it should have been. Liam wanted to pick up his things personally, but nope, not happening.
An elderly couple walking on the street | Source: Pexels
We settled on a middle ground: I’d give his parents a temporary code to my house. They’re decent folks, and I trusted them enough. Plus, I had my security cameras all set up—no sneaky business on my watch.
A silver security camera | Source: Pexels
The plan was foolproof: they punch in the code, grab the box from the front entrance, lock up, and go. Easy peasy. Well, that was the plan anyway.
A cardboard box lying outside the front door | Source: Getty Images
So, the day comes, his parents show up, use the code, and pick up the box. So far, so good, right? Wrong. His mom, bless her heart, couldn’t resist a little detour. There she goes, on my security footage, heading straight for my bedroom.
A close-up shot of a bedroom dimly lit with a table lamp | Source: Pexels
My heart’s pounding, not because I’m scared, but because it feels so wrong watching them snoop through my space. But then, the plot thickens, and I can’t help but burst into laughter.
A white vintage chest of drawers | Source: Pexels
She reaches my chest of drawers—the top one, where we used to keep our jewelry—and pulls out this big, mysterious envelope. Looking over her shoulder like a cartoon thief, she sneaks a peek inside.
I swear, her reaction is priceless. She looks like she’s about to scream (I could only see, not hear, remember?).
A white envelope | Source: Pexels
n a panic, she stuffs everything back, dashes out of the room, and practically sprints to their truck. All this drama over finding the photos of Liam’s little escapades.
A red pickup truck | Source: Pexels
I mean, come on, how can you not laugh at that? The irony is just too much. She came looking for dirt and ended up getting a whole garden’s worth!
A woman laughing | Source: Getty Images
Continuing from the moment of unexpected comedy courtesy of my mother-in-law, let’s take a step back to paint the whole picture here.
You see, before all this unfolded, Liam and I, with a touch of what now seems like forethought, had set up a prenup.
A couple talking while drinking coffee | Source: Shutterstock
Oh, not just any prenup, but one with a clause sharper than a knife: if one of us cheats, the other gets everything. Yeah, my idea. Call it intuition or maybe just me being cautious, but part of me always suspected Liam might break my heart.
So, fast forward to the debacle of his affair, and there I was, armed with proof of his cheating.
A person signing a written agreement | Source: Pexels
When I confronted him, he was all puppy eyes, begging me not to enforce the prenup. Said it would ruin him financially and oh, the horror, he’d have to confess his mess to his parents.
Out of what I now think was too much generosity, I agreed. I mean, who was I to turn someone’s life upside down, right?
A man talking to his mom | Source: Getty Images
But here’s the kicker. While I was playing the benevolent soon-to-be ex-wife, Liam was spinning tales.
To my utter dismay, I found out he told his parents a story flipped on its head: it was me who cheated, and he, the martyr, didn’t enforce the prenup out of the goodness of his heart. Yeah, right.
A luxurious house with a swimming pool | Source: Unsplash
His parents, thinking they were on a mission to uncover my betrayal, came to my house that fateful day. They were supposed to just pick up his things and leave, but no, they decided to dig around for proof of my supposed infidelity.
A shocked elderly man | Source: Getty Images
Can you imagine the shock on their faces when instead of finding evidence against me, they stumbled upon the graphic photos of Liam’s escapade? Their whole narrative just exploded right there in my bedroom.
A terrified elderly woman | Source: Getty Images
So, where were we? Right, the major fallout. Just when I thought the drama couldn’t get any worse, my phone buzzed. It’s Liam, and he’s furious.
A woman holding her phone with the display screen showing an incoming call | Source: Getty Images
He accuses me of deliberately leaving those scandalous pictures for his parents to find. As much as I enjoy a good plot twist, I hadn’t done that.
A person holding photographs | Source: Pexels
I was tempted to scatter them on top of the box just to make a statement, but that felt too harsh, even for me. His parents, after all, had always been kind to me.
A man covering his face while leaning on a cardboard box | Source: Pexels
“I didn’t leave them out on purpose, Liam,” I tried to explain over the phone, my voice calm but firm. “You said your mom was looking for that ring you forgot to list, right? You told her where to find it?”
A man wearing a ring | Source: Pexels
“Yeah, but I forgot until they were almost there,” he retorted, his voice a mix of embarrassment and annoyance.
“Well, if you had told me earlier, I would’ve put it in the box,” I sighed, wishing he had been more organized.
Now here’s the kicker—Liam was more upset about his parents discovering he’s a power bottom than the actual infidelity.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Shutterstock
The conversation quickly spiraled from accusations to self-pity. “I can’t stay at their house now,” he complained. “I need to find somewhere else. You’ve really done it this time, April. You’re so cruel.”
Cruel? Really? If anything, karma was just doing its job, serving up a dish Liam had been cooking since his misstep.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Shutterstock
As the call ended, I couldn’t help but reflect on the entire saga. Despite the chaos, a weight had been lifted. I was free from the web of lies and deceit, and for the first time in a long time, I could breathe and look forward to starting anew.
A depressed man | Source: Shutterstock
Now, dear readers, I turn to you. Am I the villain in this tale, or just a bystander in the chaotic life of a man who couldn’t own up to his actions? Did karma simply do what karma does best?
I’d love to hear your thoughts, theories, and maybe even some of your own similar stories. How do you see it? Was this poetic justice or just plain old messiness?
A woman thinking while driving a car | Source: Shutterstock
When My MIL Handed Me a ‘Good Wife’ Rulebook on My Wedding Day, My Husband Got Rich!
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.
Leave a Reply