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.
Hours Before My Wedding, a Strange Elderly Woman Approached Me and Asked to Read My Palm
On Claire and David’s wedding day, a mysterious old woman shows up on their driveway, ready to read Claire’s palm. Claire, not believing in the practice, is skeptical… until the old woman reveals details that are too accurate to be a hoax.
The morning of my wedding was everything I’d dreamed of. It was chaotic, I was buzzing with excitement, and it was filled with love. My bridesmaids would be arriving soon, and we were planning on having a charcuterie board lunch with champagne on the side.
A charcuterie board | Source: Midjourney
My dress was hanging in its garment bag, and I was marrying David, my best friend and the man who’d made me believe in forever. Our wedding was going to be different. David and I were getting married on a yacht at night, so really, we had the entire day to get ready for the rest of our lives…
At least, that’s what I thought.
I put on my face mask and stepped outside to meet the delivery man with my bouquet. I had wanted it to be delivered at the last minute so that it would be perfect with no wilting buds.
A woman with a face mask on | Source: Midjourney
But as I walked to the driveway, waiting for the delivery truck to come, I noticed her.
She was standing near the path that cut through my front yard. An elderly woman with weathered skin, wild gray hair, and clothes that looked as though they hadn’t been washed in weeks.
And still, despite her ragged appearance, her eyes were sharp, almost piercing. There was something unsettlingly calm about her.
An old woman standing outside | Source: Midjourney
“Child,” she called out, her voice soft but commanding. “Come closer, Child.”
I hesitated. Every instinct told me to ignore her and go back inside, but something in her gaze made me stop. Against my better judgment, I walked toward her. Maybe she was hungry. I could make her a cup of tea and a sandwich and let her go on her way.
It was my wedding day, after all. How would I send an old woman away?
A sandwich and cup of tea on a counter | Source: Midjourney
“Let me see your hand, Child,” she said, reaching out. “I want to read your palm. Let’s see what the lines on your palm have to say. Let’s uncover their secrets.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, forcing a smile. “But I don’t really believe in that sort of thing.”
She smiled faintly.
A woman holding her hand out | Source: Midjourney
“You don’t have to believe, my dear,” she said. “You just have to listen. Maybe something will resonate with you.”
Before I could protest, she reached out and gently took my hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone so frail. I should’ve pulled away, but I didn’t.
“The man you are about to marry,” she began, her voice low and deliberate as she traced one of the lines on my palm.
“Yes?” I asked.
A woman holding her arm out | Source: Midjourney
“He has a mark on his right thigh? A heart-shaped birthmark, yes?”
I froze. My stomach tightened. I hadn’t told anyone about David’s birthmark. How could she possibly know?
“And his mother?” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “She wasn’t part of his life, no? She’s dead now, isn’t she?”
I nodded slowly, a chill running down my spine.
A man’s birthmark | Source: Midjourney
“How… how do you know that?”
Her expression darkened.
“Child, he’s going to ruin your life. But you still have a choice! If you want to know the truth, look inside the stuffed rabbit he keeps in his closet.”
I stumbled back, pulling my hand free.
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
A stuffed rabbit toy | Source: Midjourney
“Trust your instincts,” she said. “And remember, love built on lies will crumble.”
I was ready to turn away, but then my bouquet came. Quickly, I picked it up from the delivery man and then hurried back into the house, slamming the door behind me. My heart pounded as her words echoed in my mind.
The stuffed rabbit.
David had told me about it once, a toy his mother gave him before she died. He kept it tucked away in his closet so that he could still have a piece of her.
A woman looking concerned | Source: Midjourney
Quickly, I washed my face mask off and sent a text to the group my bridesmaids had created.
Running a quick errand, I’ll let you know when I’m home. Then we can celebrate!
“Okay, Claire,” I told myself. “Let’s go find a stuffed bunny.”
David was at his dad’s house getting ready. So I was alone; I could do whatever I wanted. And what I wanted was to uncover the truth.
A woman in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
Was the old woman just talking absolute nonsense, or was there more to it?
I opened David’s closet and pulled out the rabbit. Its gray fur was worn and faded, and I noticed something I hadn’t before. A small zipper on its back.
My heart raced as I unzipped it. Inside was a bundle of folded papers.
Pieces of paper on a bed | Source: Midjourney
Son, why are you ashamed of me? Please don’t abandon me. I love you.-Mom
I stared at the words, my chest tightening. The next note was even more heartbreaking.
I’ve been calling for weeks. Why won’t you answer, David?
And then the third:
Please, let me see you just once. I need to know you’re okay.
A woman reading a note | Source: Midjourney
My legs felt like jelly as I sank onto the floor. David’s mother wasn’t dead. She was alive. And she had been desperately trying to get to know him. But how had she been sending him these notes? Through the mailbox?
The realization hit me suddenly.
David had lied to me. About his mother. About something so fundamental, so deeply personal. My mind raced, trying to piece it all together. Why would he lie? Was it shame? Manipulation?
A woman sitting on the floor in a nightgown | Source: Midjourney
Or something darker?
I grabbed my phone and dialed him, my fingers shaking as they touched the screen.
“Hey, Claire,” he said, his voice light. “What’s up? No cold feet, right?”
“You need to come home,” I said. “Now.”
“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern creeping into his tone.
A woman using a phone | Source: Midjourney
“Just get here, David, please.” I hung up before he could say anything else.
When he arrived, he looked worried.
“Claire, what’s going on? We’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony!”
His eyes darted to my face, then to the stuffed rabbit clutched in my hands.
“Explain this,” I said, holding up the notes.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
His face went pale. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Slowly, he sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.
“It’s complicated, Claire,” he said finally.
“Complicated? How? You told me that your mother was dead, David! You lied to me about something so huge. How is that complicated?”
A man holding his head | Source: Midjourney
He lifted his head, tears brimming in his eyes.
“My dad… he made me choose between them. After the divorce, he told me that she wasn’t good enough. He said that she was a mess, that she liked her beer and could only hold jobs at diners that wanted to give her a chance. He said that I’d have a better life without her. I was just a kid, Claire. I didn’t know any better.”
“And now? You’re not a kid anymore! You’ve been ignoring her since when? She’s been begging to see you. These notes are proof. Do you have any idea how cruel that is?”
A woman working at a diner | Source: Midjourney
“I know,” he said. “I know I messed up. I’ve been so ashamed. I didn’t know how to fix it.”
I stared at him, my heart breaking but also… defeated. Who was this man?
“You lied to me. How am I supposed to marry someone I can’t trust?”
His face crumpled.
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
“Please, Claire,” he said. “Don’t do this! I’ll make it right. I’ll go to her. I know where she lives. She’s in a couple’s outbuilding. I’ll apologize. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I took a deep breath.
“Go find her, David. Make things right with her. Until you do, I can’t marry you.”
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
His eyes widened in panic.
“Claire…”
“No, actions speak louder than words,” I said, cutting him off. “Go.”
Hours passed, and I couldn’t focus on anything. I texted my bridesmaids group again and told them that the wedding was off. The yacht was ready, the guests were starting to arrive, and my phone buzzed incessantly with texts from my mom and bridesmaids.
A woman sitting on a couch and texting | Source: Midjourney
Please, sort it out. The wedding is canceled. I’m okay. Don’t come home, just tell the guests and make sure everyone eats before they leave the yacht. Lots of love, girls.
All I could think about was David and the woman who had appeared like a ghost to warn me.
It was nearly evening when I heard the knock at my door. I opened it to find David standing there, his face tear-streaked and his shoulders slumped.
Wedding guests on a yacht | Source: Midjourney
But there was something else, a sense of relief, of peace.
“I found her,” he said softly. “I apologized. She forgave me.”
I nodded, my throat too tight to speak.
And then he stepped aside.
Standing behind him was the elderly woman from earlier. Her gray hair glowed in the fading light, and her eyes, those piercing, knowing eyes, were now brimming with tears.
A woman and her son | Source: Midjourney
“Claire,” David said, his voice breaking. “This is my mother.”
The weight of her words from earlier hit me. She had risked everything to warn me, to save her son from the lies that had kept them apart. And to give me the truth before it was too late.
“Thank you,” I whispered, hugging her.
She smiled.
A shocked woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you for giving him the chance to find his way back.”
David and I didn’t get married that day. But in the months that followed, he worked tirelessly to rebuild his relationship with his mother. And during those months, I made sure that he got his answers from his father.
“I will not have your father in my life unless he can explain why he was so ugly to your mother. She needs love and car, David. She looks more aged and worn out than anyone her age, and don’t you think that’s because of your father? He did this to her.”
“I know,” he said, handing me a cup of tea. “But what can I do? Demand to know why he’s such a horrible person?”
“Yes!” I exclaimed.
A cup of tea on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
David, true to his word, did have a proper sit down with his father, and Alec came clean.
“I didn’t want you to choose your mother, David. I didn’t want you to be burdened with her issues, and if anything, I should have taken care of her. I asked for the divorce because I didn’t want that responsibility. And now what? She’s back and she looks like she needs so much care. It’s all my fault.”
David accepted what his father had to say, but I could see that their relationship would forever be strained.
Two men having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
And when we did finally get married, it was a small, intimate ceremony with Estelle, David’s mother, by our side.
We had taken her for medicals and gotten her treatment for her liver. We rented out a small apartment for her, because as much as she wanted to be back in David’s life, she wasn’t used to living with people.
Sometimes, love isn’t about perfect beginnings. It’s about finding your way back to the truth… and to the people who matter most.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
My Dying MIL Called Me in Tears to Reveal a Terrible Secret That Changed Everything
When my dying mother-in-law called me late one night, I never expected her to confess a secret that would turn our lives upside down. That secret led me to a point where I had to make a difficult choice.
I’ve been married to Dawson for about ten years, and my mother-in-law never missed a chance to remind me that I wasn’t the kind of woman she wanted for her son.
A woman talking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney
Colette is one of those people who believe in telling the truth, no matter how bitter it is. She doesn’t care if the truth will hurt her loved ones because she believes honesty comes first.
“I wanted Dawson to marry my friend’s daughter,” she told me one day when she came over to our place. “I always thought they’d make a great couple.”
A woman speaking to her daughter-in-law | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I wanted to tell her off, but I’m not the type to disrespect anyone. I always ignored her snide remarks, and that’s the only reason our relationship survived.
A few months ago, Colette was diagnosed with cancer, and the doctors said she didn’t have much time left. Before her diagnosis, we only saw each other at family gatherings and rarely spoke otherwise.
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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