I thought my future mother-in-law was loving and supportive of my union with her son. But she detested me and had been pretending from the day we met! My tale is of deceit, lies, and ultimately revenge! With my new husband’s support, we put her in her place!
I, Joana, 34, was looking forward to finally marrying the man of my dreams, my fiancé Leo, 35. But I didn’t expect that his family would try to come between us.
Here’s some background before I get into how we got here. Leo and I have been together for two blissful years. We are finally getting ready for our big day, which is coming soon. But what I didn’t expect was to overhear my fiancé’s family making ulterior plans against me.
A woman lying in bed reading a book | Source: Pexels
So this is what happened. I woke up the other day feeling unwell and decided to call in sick to work. The plan was for me to just stay home nursing myself back to health. Since Leo had already left the apartment for his job, I decided to text him, saying:
“Hi babe, I hope you’re having a good morning. I woke up feeling under the weather and decided to stay home for the day. I already called in sick, so please bring me lunch if you can. I love you!”
I remember the day clearly. Leo surprised me by arriving at our apartment during his lunch break! I thought he’d read my message and had actually brought me some food.
A woman texting on her phone while lying in bed | Source: Pexels
In my excitement, I was about to go out of the bedroom to hug him and thank him for coming to check on me when I heard other voices.
My fiancé had come over with my future mother-in-law (MIL) and sister-in-law (SIL). From the conversation they were having, it seemed they’d come over to pick something up from our apartment during Leo’s lunch break. He was helping his sister move.
Yet, Leo didn’t look for me when he arrived, which made me realize he hadn’t read my text. So he didn’t know I was home. “You guys wait here, let me go and throw this trash out, and then we can go,” he said as he emptied the bin and went outside.
A man outside holding a trash bag | Source: Freepik
The moment he went out the door, his mother and sister began trashing me! They were mocking everything from my kitchen decor to my personal style! “Who chooses such colors for a kitchen,” my future SIL laughed as I listened.
“Never mind the kitchen, what about the way she looks?” my future MIL added laughing at me too. “She’s not a good fit for Leo,” she commented, continuing to say disgusting and quite hurtful things about me.
An older woman laughing and conversing with a younger one | Source: Freepik
Lying in bed I seethed with a mixture of shock and anger! I couldn’t believe the disdain they harbored for me. Quietly, I reached for the old dictaphone on my nightstand and pressed record because my phone was flat. Every harsh word, every cruel laugh captured, unbeknownst to them.
I was SO hurt! I didn’t know that they felt this way about me. Every time we conversed or I was around them, they were kind and supportive. They’d even offered to help with the wedding planning, for goodness sake!
A photo of an old dictaphone | Source: Pixabay
Just when I thought I’d heard enough and they couldn’t stoop any lower, it got even worse! My future MIL continued speaking ill of me, dropping a huge bombshell to her daughter about her crazy plan, saying:
“The silly girl doesn’t even suspect that she’ll NEVER become a mother to our future grandkid because I’m going to use Leo’s ex as an egg donor.”
My jaw DROPPED! The ex she mentioned was Eve, the blonde model-looking woman that Leo dated for four years before me. He’d broken up with her after proposing when he found out she’d been cheating on him.
The infidelity happened with different men and throughout their relationship!
That was the person whose grandchildren Leo’s mother wanted!? The reason why they didn’t want my grandchildren was because my genes were “tainted” by my “fat and diabetic parents,” and weren’t good enough.
A happy middle-aged couple embracing while holding snow shovels | Source: Pexels
I mean, I understood that I was nothing like Eve. I was short, and a bit chubby, and I spoke my mind when forced to, but I didn’t deserve to be trashed like that!
That evening when Leo and I were alone, I played back the recording. The hurt was clear in his eyes as he listened to his mother’s unfiltered opinions.
At first, he tried to downplay it, suggesting they were venting. But the reality of their betrayal sank in as he continued to listen.
A woman looks at the camera while her man lies back contemplating something | Source: Pexels
He confronted his mother the next day, demanding she apologize, but she refused. The woman was adamant that there was nothing wrong with her behavior! Leo, torn between his family and me, devised a plan.
“Let’s show everyone her true colors,” he said, his resolve hardening. My future MIL didn’t even suspect she would regret what she said on our wedding day as my fiancé and I made our plans.\
A happy couple sitting in their bedroom | Source: Pexels
The wedding day arrived with tension simmering beneath the surface of every smile and congratulations. Leo’s mother delivered her toast, her voice dripping with fake affection and well-wishes.
As the applause died down, Leo stood and nodded at me. My heart pounding, I hit play on the speaker system. The venomous words filled the room, each syllable a sharp contrast to the loving speech she had just given.
We had decided that after his mother’s “sweet” toast at our wedding, we would play the recording of her talking to my SIL in our apartment for all to hear.
A woman reacting in shock | Source: Freepik
The room fell silent. You could hear a pin drop as the reality of her duplicity settled over the crowd. Leo’s mother, her face a mask of horror and embarrassment, stood frozen in her seat.
Then, as the recording ended, she walked out, her exit a walk of shame under the stunned gazes of family and friends. My SIL also darted her eyes around at everyone before following suit!
Leo, a supportive and loving new husband, squeezed my hand, his eyes apologetic, and yet fierce. “I’m sorry you had to endure that,” he whispered. “But I hope now we can start fresh, without secrets or lies.”
A couple dancing on their wedding day | Source: Pexels
As the wedding continued, the atmosphere lightened. People approached us, offering words of support and expressing their shock. Leo and I realized that this ordeal, as painful as it was, might have purged the venom that threatened our future together.
Looking back, I often wonder if happiness in marriage can truly coexist with familial strife. That day, Leo chose us over the blind allegiance to his family’s pretenses.
In doing so, he gave our love a fighting chance.
A couple embracing on their wedding day | Source: Pexels
Despite the drama, or perhaps because of it, we understood that together, we could face anything. As we danced under the soft glow of the reception lights, I felt a sense of triumph, not from revenge, but from the affirmation of our unity in the face of adversity.
A happy couple embracing at the beach | Source: Pexels
While Joana’s tale ended on a good note with her new husband choosing her over his family, things were not the same for Jane. In the following story, Jane discovers her fiancé’s true nature and with the support of their friends, she leaves him choosing to know her true worth.
My parents forced me to pay for my own dinner while they covered the bill for everyone else – Their justification was absurd
Jennifer’s parents caught her off guard during a family dinner by unexpectedly asking her to cover the cost of her meal, while they paid for everyone else. Jennifer’s resentment brews as the sting of unfairness deepens, setting the stage for a confrontation the family won’t forget.
The night I got the text from Mom about a “special family dinner,” I nearly choked on my microwaved ramen. It had been ages since we’d all gotten together, and even longer since it felt like my parents actually wanted me there.
love my family, but being the middle child is like being the bologna in a sandwich where everyone’s fighting over the bread.
I stared at my phone, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Part of me wanted to make up some lame excuse, but then I thought about Tina and Cameron, my perfect older sister and my can-do-no-wrong little brother.
They’d be there, basking in Mom and Dad’s approval, like always. And I’d remain the perpetual afterthought if I didn’t show up.
“Count me in,” I typed, hitting send before I could change my mind.
Mom replied instantly. “Great! Le Petit Château, 7 p.m. next Friday. Don’t be late!”
Le Petit Château. Fancy. I whistled low, already mentally tallying up my savings. This wasn’t going to be cheap, but hey, maybe it was a sign things were changing. Maybe they actually wanted to spend time with me, Jennifer the Forgettable.
That Friday, I arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early, feeling nervous. Just as I was about to go in, Mom and Dad showed up. Mom was all smiles, while Dad wore his usual concerned expression.
Inside, we found a cozy table, and soon after, Tina and Robert joined us. Tina looked stunning, as always, making me feel like a potato by comparison. Finally, Cameron arrived, late as usual, and complaining about traffic.
Now we were all settled, Mom wasted no time in making me feel insignificant.
“So, Jennifer,” Mom said, peering at me over her menu, “how’s work going? Still at that little marketing firm?”
I nodded, trying not to bristle at the ‘little’ part. “Yeah, it’s good. We just landed a pretty big client, actually. I’m heading up the campaign.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Mom said, her attention already drifting back to Tina, who was regaling Dad with tales of her son’s latest soccer game.
That stung, but the atmosphere improved while we ate. The food was great, and soon we were talking and laughing like we used to when I was a kid.
I was enjoying the meal and the rare feeling of being part of the family, but then the check came.
Dad reached for it and started going over the bill, like he always did. But then he frowned, looking directly at me.
“Jennifer,” he said, his voice oddly formal, “you’ll be covering your portion tonight.”
I blinked, sure I’d heard him wrong. “What?”
“You’re an adult now,” he continued, as if explaining something to a child. “It’s time you start paying your own way.”
“But…” I started, my voice small, “I thought this was a family dinner. You’re paying for everyone else.”
Dad’s frown deepened. “Your sister and brother have families to support. You’re single, so it’s only fair.”
Fair. The word echoed in my head, mocking me. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. Without a word, I pulled out my credit card and handed it to the waiter, praying it wouldn’t get declined.
The rest of the night was a blur. As I drove home, the hurt began to curdle into something else. Something harder, angrier.
The next morning, I woke up with a headache and a heart full of resentment. I spent the day alternating between moping on the couch and pacing my apartment like a caged animal. By evening, something inside me had shifted.
I wasn’t just going to let this go. Not this time.
An idea started to form. Crazy at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. I was going to give them a taste of their own medicine.
I invited Mom and Dad over for dinner and then spent days perfecting the menu. I cleaned my apartment until it sparkled, bought fancy candles, and even splurged on a tablecloth that didn’t come from the dollar store.
The night of the dinner arrived, and I was eerily calm. I had a plan, and I was sticking to it.
The doorbell rang at 7 p.m. sharp. I took a deep breath and opened the door with a smile plastered on my face.
“Mom, Dad! Come in!”
Dad handed me a bottle of wine. “Place looks nice, Jennifer.”
“Thanks,” I said, ushering them to the living room. “Dinner’s almost ready. Can I get you something to drink?”
As I poured their wine, Mom settled onto the couch, her eyes roaming over my bookshelf. “So, how have you been, dear? We haven’t heard much from you since… well, since our last dinner.”
I forced a light laugh. “Oh, you know how it is. Work’s been crazy busy.”
We made small talk for a while, the conversation stilted and full of long pauses. Finally, the oven timer beeped, saving us all.
“Dinner’s ready!” I announced, perhaps a bit too cheerfully.
I’d outdone myself with the meal: herb-crusted salmon, roasted vegetables, and a quinoa salad that had taken forever to get right. Mom and Dad made appropriate noises of appreciation as they ate.
“This is delicious, Jennifer,” Mom said, sounding genuinely impressed. “I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
I shrugged, tamping down the flare of resentment at her surprise. “I’ve picked up a few things over the years.”
The dinner progressed smoothly, almost pleasantly. I almost forgot why I’d invited them over in the first place. Then Dad started with one of his lectures about financial responsibility, and I knew it was time.
As I cleared the plates and brought out a fancy tiramisu for dessert, I steeled myself. This was it.
“So,” I said casually, setting down the dessert plates, “I hope you enjoyed the meal.”
They both nodded, smiling. “It was wonderful, dear,” Mom said.
I smiled back, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “Great. That’ll be $47.50 each, please.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Mom’s fork clattered against her plate, and Dad’s face went through a rapid series of emotions – confusion, disbelief, and then anger.
“I’m sorry, what?” he sputtered.
I kept my voice calm, channeling Dad’s tone from that night at the restaurant. “Well, you’re both adults. It’s time you started paying your own way.”
Mom’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “But… but this is your home. You invited us.”
“Yes,” I said, my voice hardening slightly. “Just like you invited me to Le Petit Château. And then made me pay for my meal while covering everyone else’s.”
Understanding dawned on their faces, quickly followed by shame.
“Jennifer,” Dad started, his voice gruff. “That’s not… we didn’t mean…”
“Didn’t mean what?” I interrupted, years of pent-up frustration finally boiling over.
“Didn’t mean to make me feel like I’m worth less than Tina or Cameron? Didn’t mean to constantly overlook me? Or did you just not mean to get called out on it?”
Mom reached out, trying to take my hand, but I pulled away. “Sweetie, we had no idea you felt this way.”
I laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. Do you have any idea what it’s like to always be the afterthought in your own family?”
Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
“We love you just as much as your siblings, Jennifer.”
“Do you?” I challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m just as successful as Tina, just as hardworking as Cameron. But somehow, I’m always the one who’s expected to ‘act like an adult’ while they get a free pass.”
The room fell silent again, but this time it was heavy with unspoken words and long-ignored feelings.
Finally, Dad cleared his throat. “We… we owe you an apology, Jennifer. A big one.”
Mom nodded, tears in her eyes. “We never meant to make you feel less valued. You’re our daughter, and we love you so much. We’ve just… we’ve done a terrible job of showing it.”
I felt my own eyes welling up, but I blinked back the tears. “I don’t want your apologies. I want you to do better. To be better. To see me.”
Dad stood up, his movements stiff. For a moment, I thought he was going to leave.
Instead, he walked around the table and hugged me. It was awkward and a little too tight, but it was more genuine than any interaction we’d had in years.
“We see you, Jennifer,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “And we’re so, so proud of you. We’ve been blind and stupid, and we’ve taken you for granted. But that ends now.”
Mom joined the hug, and for a minute, we just stood there, a tangle of arms and unshed tears and long-overdue honesty.
When we finally broke apart, Mom wiped her eyes and gave a watery chuckle. “So, about that bill…”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Tell you what. This one’s on the house. But next time we go out? We’re splitting the check evenly. All of us.”
Dad nodded solemnly. “Deal.”
As they left that night, things weren’t magically fixed. Years of feeling overlooked and undervalued don’t disappear in one conversation. But it was a start. A crack in the wall I’d built around myself, letting in a glimmer of hope.
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