When my mom called me from her honeymoon, begging me to save her from her new husband, I thought she was in real danger. Nothing could’ve prepared me for what she told me or how I had to step in to fix it.
I’ve always been close to my mom, Diane.
She’s been my rock, my best friend, and the person who taught me everything about love and resilience. But after my dad passed away 10 years ago, things changed.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
She became quiet, and withdrawn, like a shadow of the vibrant woman she used to be. She barely called or texted anymore, and every time I tried to check in, she insisted she was fine.
But I could tell she wasn’t.
One day, I couldn’t take it anymore.
I called her and said, “Mom, why don’t you come stay with me for a while? It’ll be fun. We can binge-watch those cooking shows you love and eat way too much ice cream.”
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
At first, she resisted, but after a bit of cajoling, she finally agreed.
A week later, she moved into my guest room, and I made it my mission to bring her back to life.
I started encouraging her to get out of the house, make new friends, and attend neighborhood events.
“You’re still young, Mom,” I told her. “You deserve to have fun and meet people. Dad would want that for you.”
A woman talking to her mother | Source: Midjourney
To be honest, that wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
She’d sigh and roll her eyes whenever I suggested going to a book club or joining a gardening group. But eventually, she started saying yes.
Slowly but surely, I saw the spark return to her eyes. She started laughing more, talking about her new friends, and even picking up some of her old hobbies.
I was so relieved to see this side of her again.
Then, about a year ago, Mom told me about Greg. She invited him over for lunch one day.
A man standing in a room | Source: Midjourney
“He’s just a friend,” she said, but the way her cheeks turned pink told me otherwise.
Greg was a tall, silver-haired man with kind eyes and a soft-spoken demeanor. He seemed sweet, the kind of man who would hold doors open and always say please and thank you.
After he left, I couldn’t help teasing her.
“So, Mom, is Greg really just a friend, or is there more to the story?”
Her blush deepened.
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
“Well, umm… he’s, uh, he’s my boyfriend,” she admitted.
“OMG, what?” I looked at her with wide eyes. “Mom! You never told me about him!”
“I didn’t know how to…” she said. “I mean—”
“I’m so happy for you, Mom!” I cut her off and pulled her into a hug. “That’s so, so amazing!”
“But, uh,” she began. “Do you think it’s okay? I mean, dating someone else after your dad… is that fine?”
A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney
“Mom, of course, it’s okay,” I put my hands on her shoulders. “You deserve to be happy. Think about Dad. He always wanted to see you happy, right? He’d want you to move forward and do things in life. You can’t put your life on hold forever, can you?”
Her eyes glistened as she nodded. “You’re right. I just… I hope I’m doing the right thing.”
“You are,” I said firmly. “Greg seems like a great guy. And you’re allowed to have a second chance at happiness.”
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
From that moment, she fully embraced her relationship with Greg. They dated for a while, and when he proposed, she said yes.
Their wedding was a small but beautiful ceremony, filled with love and laughter. As I watched my mom walk down the aisle, I thought to myself, Maybe this is her happily ever after.
And for a while, it seemed like everything was perfect. But then I received the phone call that sent a shiver down my spine.
A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels
So, after their wedding, Mom and Greg left for their honeymoon in the Florida Keys. It was Mom’s dream trip, and she deserved every bit of it.
I was so happy for her.
My phone rang the day after they arrived, and I saw her name on the screen. Naturally, I assumed she was calling to gush about how amazing everything was.
“Mom!” I answered cheerfully. “How’s paradise?”
But her shaky voice on the other end told me something was wrong.
A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Kayla,” she whispered. “Please. Come and save me from him. I beg you.”
“Mom, what’s going on?” I asked as I sat up straight. “Are you okay?”
“It’s Greg,” she said. “He’s not who I thought he was.”
My mind raced with worst-case scenarios.
“What do you mean? Did he do something? Is he dangerous?” I was already grabbing my car keys, ready to drive to Florida if I had to.
A car key | Source: Pexels
She took a deep breath.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” she said bitterly. “But he brought his kids, and their kids, on our honeymoon. And he expects me to babysit them.”
“Wait… what?”
“Yesterday, he said he had a surprise for me,” she explained. “I thought it was going to be something romantic, like a sunset dinner or a couples’ massage. Instead, his adult children showed up with their toddlers in tow.”
A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t believe Greg was capable of doing something so absurd.
“There are four of them, Kayla. Four,” Mom cried. “And now I’m stuck babysitting while Greg spends all his time with his kids.”
“You mean to tell me he brought his entire family on your honeymoon? Without asking you?”
“Yes!” she cried. “And now he’s saying that since I’m ‘the new mom,’ it’s my job to help out. Help out! On my honeymoon! What does he think he’s doing?”
I could hear the frustration and exhaustion in her voice.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
My mom, the woman who had given up everything to raise me after my dad passed away, was being treated like a nanny on what was supposed to be the happiest trip of her life.
I felt a wave of anger rush through my body.
“That’s insane!” I snapped. “Who does he think he is? Don’t worry, Mom. I’m coming, and we’re putting an end to this nonsense.”
“Kayla, you don’t have to—”
“No, Mom,” I interrupted, my voice steely. “I’m not letting him treat you like this. Pack your bags. I’ll be there by morning.”
A woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I arrived at the resort. I was in such a beautiful place, but unfortunately, I wasn’t there to relax. I was there to fight. To tell Greg he couldn’t mistreat my mother.
To make my point crystal clear, I decided to lean into the absurdity of the situation.
Before heading to the resort, I stopped at a store and grabbed a few props. A bright pink kid’s sun hat, a bib, and a pacifier.
If Greg wanted to turn my mom into a nanny, I’d show him exactly how ridiculous that was.
A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
When I walked into the resort’s outdoor lounge, I spotted Greg immediately.
He was lounging by the pool with his adult kids, completely unaware of what was heading his way.
Mom was nowhere to be seen, and I could only assume she was stuck babysitting.
I straightened my pink hat, stuck the pacifier in my mouth, and stormed up to him.
“Daddy!” I called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Where’s Mommy? I want my juice box!”
The look on Greg’s face was priceless.
A man standing in a resort | Source: Midjourney
His laughter vanished the moment he saw me.
“Kayla,” he said. “What are you doing here?”
“Saving my mom,” I said as I yanked the pacifier out of my mouth. “And calling you out on your nonsense while I’m at it.”
Before he could respond, I turned to his grown children, who were now staring at me with wide eyes.
“Hi, everyone!” I said, plastering on a fake smile. “I’m Kayla, Greg’s other kid, apparently. The one he forgot to mention when he invited the rest of you to my mom’s honeymoon and turned her into a babysitter.”
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
One of his daughters stammered, “We… we didn’t mean—”
“Oh, save it,” I interrupted. “Let me guess, he told you my mom would be happy to watch your kids so you could enjoy a nice vacation, right? Did he mention it’s supposed to be her honeymoon? You know, the trip where she was supposed to be relaxing, not changing diapers?”
At that moment, my mom appeared, holding a wailing toddler on her hip and looking like she hadn’t slept in days.
I walked over to her and gently took the toddler from her arms.
A woman holding a baby | Source: Pexels
“Here you go,” I said, handing the child back to one of Greg’s kids. “Pretty sure this one’s yours. Maybe try taking care of your own children instead of dumping them on a woman you barely know.”
“Kayla!” Greg snapped. “That’s enough. You’re making a scene.”
“Oh, am I?” I shot back, crossing my arms. “You dragged your entire family into what was supposed to be a romantic getaway with your new wife. And you’ve been treating her like a nanny instead of a partner. What kind of man does that?”
A serious woman | Source: Midjourney
“It’s a family trip!” Greg argued. “She’s part of the family now. Helping out is what families do.”
“No,” I said firmly. “She’s your wife, not your maid. She didn’t sign up to spend her honeymoon babysitting. And honestly, the fact that you thought this was okay tells me everything I need to know about you.”
That’s when one of Greg’s daughters started apologizing.
“We didn’t mean to cause trouble,” she mumbled. “Dad said she’d be fine with it…”
A woman standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney
“Of course, he did,” I said bitterly. “Because he didn’t bother to ask her.”
The crowd around the pool was utterly silent, watching the scene unfold. Greg looked like he wanted to disappear, but I wasn’t done yet.
“Pack your bags, Mom,” I said. “We’re leaving.”
She hesitated, glancing at Greg. “But… what about—”
“No,” I cut her off. “You don’t owe him anything. He disrespected you, and you deserve better.”
Tears welled in her eyes, but she nodded. I grabbed her hand and led her out of the pool area, while Greg mumbled excuses.
A close-up shot of a man’s face | Source: Midjourney
On the drive home, Mom stayed quiet for the longest time. She kept staring out of the window before finally speaking up.
“Thank you, Kayla,” she said softly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done without you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, Mom,” I said, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “You’ve always been there for me. I’m just returning the favor.”
She gave me a small, teary smile. “I thought he loved me.”
“Someone who loves you wouldn’t treat you like that,” I said. “You deserve someone who puts you first.”
A woman driving | Source: Pexels
“You’re right,” she nodded. “I’m done with Greg.”
When we got home, she blocked his number and started looking into annulments.
Meanwhile, karma turned Greg’s life upside down. His kids weren’t too thrilled about being dragged into his honeymoon scheme, and they stopped speaking to him after finding out what he did.
Last I heard, he was spending his days alone, wondering where it all went wrong.
I can’t explain how relieved I feel after saving Mom from being exploited for her kindness. I’m grateful she decided to call me that day instead of quietly looking after that man’s grandkids and keeping up with his insane logic.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: “My real mom still lives here,” my stepson whispered one night. I laughed it off, until I started noticing strange things around our home.
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.
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