When my husband mocked my homemade lasagna behind my back, I teamed up with my mother-in-law to serve him a taste of his own medicine. What followed was a dinner he wouldn’t forget, teaching him a lesson in appreciation and respect.
My husband, Dave, and I have been married for about three years. I pride myself on my cooking skills. I’m no gourmet chef, but I’ve never had any complaints — until recently.
Happy couple | Source: Midjourney
Last Friday, I decided to make one of my favorite recipes: homemade lasagna. I spent hours preparing it, making sure everything was perfect. When it was finally ready, I served it up with a smile. I expected at least a ‘thank you’ from Dave.
Instead, he took one bite, made a face, and pulled out his phone. I thought he just took the photo because he photographs everything around. But in a second, I heard the sound of a text message arriving. Curious, I peeked over his shoulder and my heart sank.
Unpleased Dave with lasagna | Source: Midjourney
The message read, ‘Look at what she made tonight. It’s barely edible. I miss Mom’s cooking.’
My blood boiled. “Dave, what the heck is this?” I asked, my voice shaking.
He looked up, startled. “What? Oh, nothing,” he stammered, trying to hide his phone.
Close-up portrait of his he nice attractive funny confused brunet bearded guy wearing pink tshirt waiting news biting lip isolated over violet purple lilac pastel color background | Source: Getty Images
“Nothing? You just texted someone that my lasagna is barely edible and you miss your mom’s cooking!” I snapped.
Dave sighed. “Look, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just… I don’t know, venting. It’s not a big deal.”
“Not a big deal?” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Do you have any idea how much effort I put into this? If you didn’t like it, you could have just told me.”
Man texting on his phone | Source: Unsplash
“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,” he said defensively.
“By telling me to my face, or by texting someone behind my back?” I shot back. “Because I think this is way worse.”
Dave rubbed his temples. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. It was a dumb thing to do.”
Sad elderly woman | Source: Pexels
I wasn’t satisfied with his half-hearted apology, but I decided to drop it for the night. The next day, I had a different plan.
I told Dave that I had a work event and would be home late. In reality, I went to his mom’s house. She was a wonderful woman and I wanted to ask her for advice. When I arrived, she welcomed me in with open arms.
“Hey, sweetie! What brings you here?” she asked, giving me a hug.
Mother-in-law | Source: Midjourney
I sighed. “It’s about Dave. He did something really hurtful yesterday.”
She frowned. “What happened?”
I told her about the lasagna incident and showed her the message Dave had sent. She was shocked and immediately agreed to help me.
Mother-in-law comforts the woman | Source: Midjourney
“Oh God! I never brought him up to be such a brat. Hon, he’ll learn a lesson. I have a plan.”
My mother-in-law offered to cook up a storm in her kitchen. She made all of Dave’s favorite dishes, but with a twist. She over-seasoned, undercooked, and generally made sure everything tasted awful.
Then she plated it all up beautifully, knowing Dave wouldn’t be able to resist taking a picture. Then she called him and invited him for dinner.
A slice of lasagna garnished with basil | Source: Pexels
The house smelled delicious, even if I knew better. As she worked, she explained the plan in detail, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
“I’ll make the mashed potatoes too salty, the green beans half-cooked, and the chicken dry as a bone. He’ll be so excited when he sees the spread, and then… well, let’s just see what happens.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You really think this will work?”
Elderly woman with a cup | Source: Pexels
She winked. “Oh, honey, I know it will. Dave has always been a bit too sure of himself when it comes to food. This will be a wake-up call.”
As we set the table, my nerves started to ease. This was going to be interesting.
When Dave arrived, his eyes lit up at the sight of the delicious spread. He eagerly dug in, but with each bite, his face started changing. He looked confused and a bit scared.
Scared man | Source: Pexels
With a smirk on her face, his mom asked sweetly, “Is everything okay?”
He stammered, “Uh, yeah, it’s just… not what I expected.”
She smiled and said, “Hmmm, strange, I thought you missed my cooking?”
Mother-in-law tells Lily the story | Source: Midjourney
Dave went pale as the realization hit him. He turned to me, standing in the kitchen doorway, and I said, “I saw your message, Dave. If you have something to say about my cooking, say it to my face. I hope you enjoyed tonight’s meal as much as I enjoyed making it.”
Dave was speechless, and his mom chimed in, “I didn’t raise you to be disrespectful. You owe your wife an apology.”
Elderly lady with a laptop | Source: Pexels
He mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
But I wasn’t done. I pulled out my phone and said, “You know, Dave, I think I’ll send a picture of tonight’s meal to the boys’ chat, just like you did with my lasagna. Maybe they’ll appreciate a taste of your favorite dishes, ‘Mom’s style.’”
Senior woman and young woman sitting at dining table holding hands | Source: Getty Images
His eyes widened in horror as he realized what I was about to do. “No, please don’t!” he pleaded.
I gave him a stern look. “Maybe next time, you’ll think twice before mocking someone’s hard work.”
From that day on, Dave never complained about my cooking again, at least not behind my back. Whenever I cooked, he made sure to show his appreciation.
Senior woman in her 80s looks away, seeming confused and anxious | Source: Getty Images
His mom looked at him sternly. “Dave, you need to understand how hurtful your words can be. Your wife put in a lot of effort to make that meal. She deserves your respect.”
Dave nodded, looking ashamed. “I know, Mom. I’m really sorry.”
“Actions speak louder than words,” she replied. “You need to show her that you appreciate what she does.”
Senior Caucasian woman with chin in hands | Source: Getty Images
Dave looked at me, his eyes full of regret. “I really am sorry, honey. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I crossed my arms and said, “Well, now you know how it feels to have your hard work disrespected.”
He nodded vigorously. “I promise, I’ll never do it again. I’ll be more appreciative from now on.”
Portrait of serious mature businessman wearing glasses in office | Source: Getty Images
His mom chimed in, “Good. Now, why don’t we all clean up together? It’ll give you a chance to show some of that appreciation.”
Dave quickly agreed, “Yes, Mom. Let’s clean up.”
As we worked together to clean the kitchen, Dave kept apologizing and thanking me for the meal. I could see he was genuinely sorry, and it felt good to know that he had learned his lesson.
Thankful Dave | Source: Midjourney
Later that night, as we were getting ready for bed, Dave turned to me and said, “I really am sorry for what I did. I was being an idiot, and I hurt you. I never want to do that again.”
I sighed, feeling some of my anger melt away. “I appreciate the apology, Dave. But you need to remember that words can hurt. Next time, just be honest with me. We can work on things together.”
Woman hugging boyfriend | Source: Getty Images
He nodded. “I will. Thank you for giving me another chance.”
“Just don’t mess it up,” I replied, giving him a small smile.
The next morning, Dave made breakfast as a gesture of goodwill. He served me a plate of pancakes with a shy smile. “I hope these are okay.”
Man makes pancakes | Source: Pexels
I took a bite and smiled. “They’re perfect.”
Dave beamed, looking relieved. “I’m glad you like them.”
From that day on, Dave made a real effort to show his appreciation for my cooking. He never complained again, and our relationship grew stronger because of it.
Pancakes | Source: Pexels
The lesson here? Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, especially when that hand can serve up a dish of well-deserved revenge. Sometimes, a little creativity and teamwork with a great MIL are all you need to teach someone a valuable lesson.
I Returned Home from a 12-Hour Work Shift Just to Find Pizza Crusts Left for Me by My Husband as Dinner
My husband was so comfortable with not working that he wasn’t making an effort to find employment. One day he did something that broke the camel’s back and I finally lost it! I set about getting revenge on him in a way that forced him to change his ways completely.
A frustrated and drained woman holding folders | Source: Pexels
Hi everyone, my name is Amanda and I am a 45-year-old married woman. I am not into handouts and have been working tirelessly. I’ve been juggling a full-time job and all the household chores. All the while my husband, Dave, 47, lounges around at home, doing the bare minimum.
Last week, he pushed me to my breaking point, and I decided it was time for some petty revenge! Grab some popcorn, because this one’s a good one! Before I get ahead of myself, let me start with a little background.
A woman cleaning her house | Source: Pexels
I am a nurse by profession and that means I work 12-hour shifts. My job, which I love and wouldn’t change for anything in the world, is physically and emotionally demanding. Meanwhile, Dave’s been unemployed for over a year.
Click here to read the rest of the story.
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.
We Were About to Adopt a 5-Year-Old Boy but a Wealthy Couple Stepped in Wanting to Adopt Him Too
Adopting Nicholas was the answer to everything my husband Camden and I had dreamed of, but then a wealthy couple arrived, offering him everything we couldn’t. I feared we’d lost him — until he made a choice no one expected.
Here’s the thing: I never thought life would turn out this way. I always imagined myself in a cozy house filled with the sound of little feet running across the hardwood floors and laughter echoing through the halls.
A back view of a toddler in a diaper running in the garden | Source: Pexels
But that dream got cut short the day my doctor sat me down and said the word “infertile.” It felt like someone had pulled the rug out from under me, leaving me to wonder if my marriage would even survive the weight of that news.
I was terrified Camden would leave me. After all, he had every right to want kids of his own, right? But he surprised me in the most beautiful way. He didn’t flinch. Instead, he wrapped his arms around me and said, “Family isn’t just about biology. Maybe there’s another way.”
An understanding and caring man looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
And that’s when the idea of adoption took root in my heart.
We started the process slowly. Foster care visits, endless paperwork, and meetings with social workers. Camden was a rock through it all, never losing faith, even when I did. Then, one day, everything changed.
We met Nicholas.
He was five, with the biggest brown eyes and a shy smile that made my heart do flips. The moment I saw him, something inside me whispered, this is your son, Zelda.
A little boy | Source: Midjourney
He barely said a word that day, just clung to his toy truck and peeked up at us every now and then. But I could feel it. We connected in a way that went beyond words.
“Do you like trucks, buddy?” Camden asked him, crouching down to his level. Nicholas nodded, not saying a word, but his eyes lit up for just a second. That was enough for me.
Months passed, and we were so close to making him ours. The paperwork, the home visits — everything was falling into place. Then, out of nowhere, everything took a turn.
A surprised woman | Source: Midjourney
“We’ve had another family express interest in Nicholas,” our social worker, Mrs. Jameson, said one afternoon. “They’re quite wealthy and very interested in adopting him.”
My stomach dropped. “But… we’re so close. We’ve been with him for months,” I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.
“I understand, Zelda,” Mrs. Jameson replied. “But they have the right to apply as well. Nicholas will be given time with both families and ultimately, it will be up to him.”
A social worker talking to someone | Source: Midjourney
That’s when we met them. The Featheringhams.
They strolled into the foster home as if they owned the place — polished, perfect, with an air of entitlement that filled the room.
Mrs. Featheringham, tall and blonde, with a diamond necklace glittering around her throat, looked me up and down as if I were something unpleasant she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. Her husband stood beside her, equally well-groomed, surveying Camden and me like we were unworthy competition.
A wealthy man standing in a room | Source: Midjourney
“I have to say,” Mrs. Featheringham began, her voice dripping with condescension, “I’m surprised someone like you would think you have a chance. I mean, just look at yourself—plain, middle-class. What exactly do you have to offer Nicholas?”
I could feel the heat rising to my face, but I forced myself to stay calm. Camden’s hand tightened around mine, steadying me.
A woman looks displeased and a little angry | Source: Midjourney
She wasn’t done. “We can give Nicholas everything—the best private schools, vacations across the globe, a life of luxury. What do you have? A little house in the suburbs? What’s he going to do there, play in the backyard while you struggle to make ends meet?”
Her words were sharp, meant to cut deep, and they did. I could feel Camden tense beside me, but I held him back with a slight squeeze of his hand.
A man looking unhappy and tensed | Source: Midjourney
“We’re the kind of family a child like Nicholas deserves,” she continued, her voice cold. “You should do what’s best for him and step aside. He’ll never choose you. Why would he? Just look at the difference between us.”
Camden couldn’t hold back any longer. “We might not have all the money in the world,” he said, his voice calm but firm, “but what we can offer Nicholas is love, stability, and a real home. That’s what matters.”
Mrs. Featheringham scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Love doesn’t pay for college or vacations. Be realistic.”
A wealthy woman scoffs while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Jameson, sensing the rising tension, stepped in. “Both families will have a week with Nicholas. After that, he’ll make his decision.”
A week. One week to convince this little boy that we could give him the love and life he deserved.
I took a deep breath and nodded, but inside, my heart was breaking. What if Nicholas didn’t choose us?
An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
When our week with Nicholas finally arrived, I was filled with a mix of excitement and dread. We’d heard all about his time with the Featheringhams: fancy dinners, amusement parks, and a water park.
Nicholas talked about how they’d bought him new clothes, the latest toys, and basically every child’s dream. Every time he mentioned it, I felt the hope slipping away from us.
Our week, in contrast, was far more humble — and to be honest, it seemed like everything went wrong. We had planned to take Nicholas to the zoo on our first day, thinking he’d love the animals.
A closeup shot of a lion in a zoo | Source: Pexels
But wouldn’t you know it? It rained all day. So instead, we stayed inside and built forts out of old blankets in the living room. Camden even made a “campfire” by arranging some pillows in a circle and holding a flashlight underneath them, making Nicholas giggle.
“Looks just like a real campfire, huh, buddy?” Camden asked, his voice full of hope.
Nicholas nodded, smiling shyly. “Yeah, it’s cool.”
It wasn’t flashy, and definitely not what we’d planned, but for a moment, I thought maybe it wasn’t such a disaster after all.
A smiling little boy | Source: Midjourney
The next day, we tried to take him to a local arcade, hoping to have a fun time. But almost every machine there was broken.
We ended up leaving after a few rounds of air hockey and went to the park nearby instead, sitting under a tree and playing board games we’d brought from home. Camden even found a chess set and started teaching Nicholas how to play.
“Why do all the pieces look so serious?” Nicholas asked, making me laugh.
A closeup shot of chess pieces on a chess board | Source: Pexels
“That’s because it’s a very serious game,” Camden said, leaning in like he was sharing a big secret. “But you know what? The real fun is in breaking the rules every now and then.”
Nicholas giggled as Camden made a rook do a silly dance across the board. It wasn’t what we’d planned, but we were making the best of it. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that Nicholas was comparing our simple activities to the extravagant week he’d spent with the Featheringhams.
A little boy riding a carousel | Source: Pexels
By midweek, we decided to have a picnic. We figured it was a safe, easy plan, something that couldn’t possibly go wrong. But sure enough, as soon as we sat down and opened the basket, a swarm of ants decided to join us. Nicholas squealed as they crawled over the sandwiches, and we had to scramble to pack everything up.
“Guess ants like peanut butter more than we do,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
Nicholas grinned. “Can we eat somewhere else?”
A happy little boy | Source: Midjourney
We ended up at a little diner around the corner, sitting in a booth and sharing sandwiches and fries. Camden told Nicholas funny stories about his childhood, like the time he’d fallen into a lake trying to catch frogs. Nicholas laughed so hard that he nearly spilled his soda.
Day after day, our plans fell apart, but something surprising happened along the way. Nicholas didn’t seem to mind. By the end of the week, he was holding our hands as we walked around the neighborhood. He laughed with us, even when things didn’t go perfectly.
A woman and a little boy smile while hanging outdoors | Source: Midjourney
One night, during a movie, he curled up on the couch and fell asleep in my lap, his tiny hand resting on mine. It felt so natural, like he belonged there.
On the last night of our week together, Camden and I were both quiet as we watched Nicholas sleep. I could see the worry in Camden’s eyes, even though he tried to hide it.
“I don’t know, Z,” he whispered. “What if it’s not enough? What if we’re not enough?”
A sad and worried man | Source: Midjourney
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I think… I think we’ve shown him what really matters.”
Camden nodded, though I could tell he wasn’t convinced. And to be honest, neither was I.
Then came the final day. The day Nicholas had to choose.
We sat in a small room at the foster home, Camden and I on one side, the Featheringhams on the other. Nicholas sat beside Mrs. Jameson, the social worker, looking down at his hands.
A quiet little boy | Source: Midjourney
Mrs. Featheringham didn’t waste any time. “Nicholas, darling,” she cooed, “we had such a wonderful time, didn’t we? Remember the water park? The toys we bought you? Imagine living with us, having everything you could ever want.
Nicholas nodded, glancing at us. My heart felt like it was going to pound out of my chest.
“And remember,” she continued, “we can take you on vacations, send you to the best schools… you’d never want for anything, sweetheart.”
A wealthy and self-assured woman is looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. How could we possibly compete with all of that? What could we offer him that they couldn’t?
Mrs. Jameson turned to Nicholas. “Nicholas, it’s your decision. Take your time.”
He looked up, his little face serious. “I had fun with them,” he said softly, referring to the Featheringhams. “The places we went to were cool. And… and they gave me lots of toys.”
I felt Camden’s grip on my hand tighten, but I kept my eyes on Nicholas, my heart sinking with each word.
A little boy playing with toys | Source: Midjourney
“But…” Nicholas paused, looking directly at us. “But I feel like I have a family when I’m with them.”
The room went silent.
He pointed at Camden and me. “They don’t take me to big places or give me lots of stuff… but I feel happy when I’m with them. And I feel safe. And I like the stories they tell me. It feels like home.”
A cheerful little boy | Source: Midjourney
My breath caught in my throat. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Camden looked just as shocked.
Nicholas smiled at us shyly. “I want to stay with them.”
For a moment, no one spoke. Mrs. Featheringham’s face tightened, but she didn’t say anything. Mrs. Jameson smiled warmly.
“Then that’s settled,” she said softly.
Nicholas chose us.
I blinked back tears as Camden wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. We had worried, doubted, and feared that we weren’t enough.
A happy couple sharing a hug | Source: Midjourney
But in the end, love, trust, and the simple moments had been enough. Nicholas didn’t want a life of luxury; he wanted a family.
And he had found that with us.
If this story tugged at your heartstrings, here’s another one that you might like even more: Larriel moves into a fancy neighborhood with her two sons, hoping for a fresh start. But whispers and cold stares follow them as the neighbors forbid their children from playing with her boys. One unexpected act of bravery, however, changes everything…
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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