I came to the island searching for peace, a fresh start to heal from my past. Instead, I found HIM—charming, attentive, and everything I didn’t know I needed. But just when I started to believe in new beginnings, a single moment shattered it all.
Even though I’d spent decades there, my living room felt like a stranger’s space. At 55, I stared at the open suitcase, wondering how my life had come to this.
“How did we get here?” I asked the chipped “Forever & Always” cup in my hand before tossing it aside.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I ran my hand along the couch. “Goodbye to Sunday coffee and pizza fights.”
Memories buzzed in my mind, unwelcome guests I couldn’t evict. In the bedroom, the emptiness hit harder. The other side of the bed stared back at me like an accusation.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I muttered. “It wasn’t all my fault.”
Packing became a scavenger hunt for things that still mattered. The laptop sat on my desk like a beacon.
“At least you stuck around,” I said, patting it.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
After two years of work, my novel was inside. It wasn’t finished, but it was mine—proof I wasn’t entirely lost.
Then, Lana’s email came:
“Creative retreat. Warm island. Fresh start. Wine.”
“Of course, wine,” I laughed.
Lana had always been good at making disasters sound appealing. The idea felt reckless, but wasn’t that the point?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the flight confirmation. My inner voice was relentless.
What if I hate it? Or if they hate me? What if I fall into the ocean and get eaten by sharks?
But then another thought crept in.
What if I enjoy it?
I exhaled and closed the suitcase. “Here’s to running away.”
I wasn’t running away. I was running toward something.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The island greeted me with a warm breeze and the rhythmic sound of ocean waves crashing against the shore. For a moment, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill my lungs.
This is exactly what I needed.
But the peace didn’t last. As I approached the retreat, the serenity of the island was replaced by loud music and bursts of laughter. People mostly in their 20s and 30s lounged on brightly colored beanbags, holding drinks that seemed more umbrella than liquid.
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“Well, this isn’t exactly a monastery,” I muttered under my breath.
A group near the pool burst into laughter so loud it startled a bird from a nearby tree. I sighed.
Creative breakthroughs, huh, Lana?
Before I could retreat into the shadows, Lana appeared, her sunhat tilted at a jaunty angle and a margarita in hand.
“Thea!” she shouted, as though we hadn’t emailed just yesterday. “You made it!”
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“Regretting it already,” I murmured but plastered on a smile.
“Oh, stop,” she said, waving a hand. “This is where the magic happens! Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“I was hoping for something… quieter,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Nonsense! You need to meet people and soak in the energy! Speaking of which,” she grabbed my arm, “I have someone you must meet.”
Before I could protest, she dragged me through the crowd. I felt like a frumpy mother at a high school party, trying not to trip over discarded flip-flops.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
We stopped in front of a man who, I kid you not, looked like he belonged on the cover of GQ. Sun-kissed skin, a relaxed smile, and a white linen shirt unbuttoned just enough to be suggestive but not sleazy.
“Thea, meet Eric,” Lana said with excitement.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Thea,” he said, his voice as smooth as the ocean breeze.
“Likewise,” I said, hoping my nervousness didn’t show.
Lana beamed as if she’d just set up a royal engagement. “Eric’s a writer, too. He’s been dying to meet you since I told him about your novel.”
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My cheeks flushed. “Oh, it’s not finished.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Eric said. “The fact that you’ve poured yourself into it for two years… that’s incredible! I’d love to hear about it.”
Lana smirked and backed away. “You two talk. I’ll find more margaritas!”
I glared after her. But in a few minutes, whether it was Eric’s undeniable charisma or the enchanting ocean breeze playing tricks on me, I found myself agreeing to a walk.
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“Give me a moment,” I said, surprising even myself.
Back in my room, I rummaged through my suitcase and pulled out my most flattering sundress.
Why not? If I’m going to be dragged around, I might as well look good doing it.
When I stepped outside, Eric was waiting. “Ready?”
I nodded, trying to act casual, even as my stomach did an uncharacteristic flutter. “Lead the way.”
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Eric showed me parts of the island that seemed untouched by the chaos of the “retreat.” A secluded beach with a swing hanging from a palm tree, a hidden trail leading to a cliff with a breathtaking view—places that weren’t in any guidebook.
“You’re good at this,” I said, laughing.
“Good at what?” he asked, sitting on the sand nearby.
“Making someone forget they’re wildly out of place.”
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His smile widened. “Maybe you’re not as out of place as you think.”
As we talked, I laughed more than I had in months. He shared stories of his travels and love for literature, which matched mine. His admiration for my novel felt sincere, and when he joked about framing my autograph one day, I felt a warmth I hadn’t in a long time.
But beneath the laughter, something tugged at the edge of my thoughts. A faint unease I couldn’t explain. He seemed perfect, too perfect.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next morning started on a high note. I stretched, my mind buzzing with ideas for the next chapter of my novel.
“Today’s the day,” I murmured, reaching for my laptop.
My fingers flew over the keyboard as I woke it up. But when the desktop appeared, my heart stopped. The folder where my novel had lived—two years of blood, sweat, and sleepless nights—was gone. I searched every corner of the hard drive, hoping I had misplaced it. Nothing.
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“That’s odd,” I said to myself.
My laptop was there, but the most important part of my life’s work had disappeared without a trace.
“Okay, don’t freak out,” I whispered, clutching the edge of the desk. “You probably just misplaced it.”
But I knew I hadn’t. I bolted out of the room and headed straight to Lana. As I passed the hallway, muffled voices caught my attention. I froze, my heart pounding. Slowly, I moved toward the sound. The door to the next room was slightly ajar.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“We just need to pitch it to the right publisher?” he said.
My blood ran cold. Eric’s voice was unmistakable. Peeking through the gap, I saw Lana leaning in, her voice a low hum of conspiracy.
“Her manuscript is brilliant,” Lana said, her tone syrupy. “We’ll figure out how to position it as mine. She’ll never know what hit her.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
My stomach churned with anger and betrayal, but also something worse—disappointment. Eric, who’d made me laugh, listened to me, and who I’d started to trust, was part of that.
I turned away before they could see me and headed to my room. I slammed my suitcase shut, stuffing clothes into it haphazardly.
“This was supposed to be my fresh start,” I whispered bitterly.
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My vision blurred, but I refused to cry. Crying was for someone who still believed in second chances, and I was done with that.
By the time I left the island, the bright sunshine felt like a cruel joke. I kept my gaze ahead, refusing to look back. I didn’t need to.
***
Months later, the bookstore was buzzing with excitement. Rows of seats were filled, and the air hummed with conversation. I stood at the podium, holding a copy of my novel, and tried to focus on the faces smiling back at me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you all for being here tonight,” I said, my voice steady despite the swirl of emotions beneath the surface. “This book is the result of years of work and… a journey I never expected to take.”
The applause was warm, yet I felt an ache deep in my chest as I looked out over the crowd. The novel was my pride, yes, but the road to its success had been anything but smooth. The betrayal still lingered in my mind.
After the signing line dwindled and the last guest left, I sank into a chair at the corner of the store, exhausted. That’s when I saw it—a small folded note on the table.
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“You owe me an autograph. Café around the corner when you’re free.”
The handwriting was unmistakable. My heart skipped a beat. Eric.
I stared at the note, my emotions a confusing mix of curiosity, irritation, and something else I wasn’t ready to name.
For a moment, I considered crumpling it up and walking away. But instead, I sighed, grabbed my coat, and headed for the café. I spotted him immediately.
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“You’re bold, leaving me a note like that,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
“Bold or desperate?” he replied with a wry smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“Neither was I,” I admitted.
“Thea, I need to explain. What happened on the island… At first, I didn’t realize Lana’s true motives. She convinced me it was all to help you. But the moment I discovered what she was really planning, I took the flash drive and sent it to you.”
I stayed silent.
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“When Lana involved me, she said you were too modest to publish your novel yourself,” Eric continued. “She claimed you didn’t believe in your talent and needed someone to surprise you, to push it forward. I thought I was helping.”
“A surprise?” I shot back. “You mean taking my work behind my back?”
“That’s what I thought at first. The moment she told me the truth, I grabbed the flash drive and went to find you, but you were already gone.”
“So, what I overheard wasn’t what it seemed?”
“It wasn’t. Thea, I chose you the second I understood the truth.”
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I let the silence settle, waiting for the familiar anger to surface. But it wasn’t there anymore. Lana’s manipulations were in the past, and the novel had been published on my terms.
“She always envied you, you know,” Eric said quietly, breaking the silence. “Even back in university, she felt overshadowed. This time, she saw an opportunity and used both our trust to try and take what wasn’t hers.”
“And now?”
“She’s gone. Disappeared from every circle I know. She couldn’t face the fallout after I refused to back her lies.”
“You made the right choice. That counts for something.”
“Does that mean you’ll give me another chance?”
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“One date,” I said, holding up a finger. “Don’t mess it up.”
His grin widened. “Deal.”
As we left the café, I caught myself smiling. That one date turned into another and then another. Before I knew it, I fell in love. And that time, it wasn’t one-sided. What started with betrayal had blossomed into a relationship built on understanding, forgiveness, and, yes, love.
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My Husband Left Me and the Kids Hungry Because His Dad Believes ‘It’s a Woman’s Job to Cook’ – They Both Learned Their Lesson
My Husband Left Me and the Kids Hungry Because His Dad Believes ‘It’s a Woman’s Job to Cook’ – They Both Learned Their Lesson
An ordinary evening turned into a battle over outdated gender roles. It went so far that my children and I had to go without dinner. My husband and father-in-law’s beliefs clashed with our modern family dynamics, but they were in for a lesson they would not forget.
A woman sitting by the table during dinner | Source: Pexels
My husband Marcus comes from this super traditional family and is the oldest of two kids. His mom’s a stay-at-home mom, and his dad was the sole provider.
But our family is the COMPLETE opposite. Instead, we both work and share our duties at home. My father-in-law just HATES it. He despises that I work and that my husband helps out at home.
An irritated son covering his face while his father is talking to him | Source: Pexels
Before my in-laws came to stay with us, my relationship with them was a mixed bag. My mother-in-law, though shy and reserved, was kind to me.
She never openly criticized our way of life, but her silence spoke volumes. She seemed scared to voice any opinion, always deferring to her husband’s rigid beliefs.
A woman smiling while looking at her man | Source: Pexels
My father-in-law, on the other hand, was a different story. He never missed an opportunity to express his disdain for our modern lifestyle. During family gatherings, he would make snide remarks about how a woman’s place was at home, not in the workforce.
People gathering at dinner in night garden and chatting | Source: Pexels
He believed that a man should be the provider and the head of the household, and he didn’t shy away from making his views known. Despite his harsh opinions, I tried to maintain a civil relationship with him for the sake of my husband.
We had several heated discussions over the years, but I always managed to keep my composure and stand my ground. I believed that respecting each other’s differences was the only way to keep the peace.
A man and two women talking at a table | Source: Pexels
So, when my in-laws decided to stay with us for two weeks, I knew it would be challenging. Our usual routine worked well for us. I made breakfast, we all ate lunch out, and my husband cooked dinner.
It was a system that balanced our responsibilities and kept our household running smoothly. Yesterday, I got home from work, exhausted and STARVING. I quickly greeted everyone and went for a pre-dinner shower.
A woman taking a shower | Source: Pexels
When I came back down, I expected dinner to be ready. But there was NOTHING. The kids kept asking when we were having dinner, and I asked my husband, but he wouldn’t even look at me.
Then his FATHER chimed in, “Sarah, your husband didn’t cook anything. You need to stop being LAZY and do your duty as a wife and cook for your family, AS A NORMAL WOMAN.”
A man sitting at the table while looking at a woman | Source: Pexels
I was SPEECHLESS, and my husband just sat there, NODDING, avoiding eye contact. I SAW RED. They both needed to learn a lesson.
“Really?” I started, my voice trembling with anger. “So, I should just come home after a full day of work and start cooking because that’s my duty?”
My father-in-law scoffed. “That’s right, Sarah. A woman’s place is in the kitchen.”
My mother-in-law sat quietly, too scared to say a word to her husband.
I turned to my husband. “And you agree with this?”
He mumbled, “Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you took better care of the home and kids. Tradition is tradition.”
A couple arguing at home | Source: Pexels
“Tradition?” I shot back. “Tradition won’t allow a man earning thirty-five thousand to support a family of five. You are too broke to be so sexist.” I saw tears well up in his eyes, but I wasn’t done.
Turning to his father, I said, “And you! When was the last time you took your wife to a restaurant? Do you even know what it costs to run this household?”
“Let me enlighten you. That car you drive, the one you’re so proud of? I paid for it because my income is bigger than your son’s. He asked me to cover it.”
My father-in-law’s face turned crimson. “That’s not true,” he stammered.
A man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
“It is true,” I replied. “And now, since my hard-earned money went to that car, it’s only fair that I use this month’s payment to take your wife and my kids out for dinner. Let’s see you and your son figure out the car payment, like real men.”
Without waiting for a response, I took my mother-in-law and kids to a nice restaurant. They deserved a break. We enjoyed a wonderful meal, and my mother-in-law finally relaxed, thanking me repeatedly.
Two women hugging each other | Source: Pexels
Back at home, I knew the men would have to face the reality of their outdated beliefs. They needed to understand that respect and partnership are what make a family strong.
The next morning, there was a noticeable tension in the air. My husband and his father were unusually quiet during breakfast. My husband finally broke the silence.
A man and a woman in a kitchen | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry for what happened,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I realize now how much I hurt you. I let my father’s outdated views influence me.”
His father, sitting beside him, looked uncomfortable but spoke up as well. “I didn’t realize how much times have changed. I’m sorry too. I’ve always seen things a certain way, but I understand now that it’s not right.”
A middle-aged man talking while wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
My mother-in-law, sitting quietly, nodded in agreement. I appreciated their apologies, but actions speak louder than words. I needed to see a change.
Over the next few days, both men made a visible effort to be more involved and respectful. My husband took back his duties without complaint, and his father helped where he could, even though it was clear he was uncomfortable at first.
A man wearing gloves while standing in front of a sink | Source: Pexels
One evening, as we were all preparing dinner together, my father-in-law approached me. “I want to thank you,” he said. “You opened my eyes. I see now that respect and partnership are crucial. I will try to do better.”
His sincerity touched me. “Thank you for understanding,” I replied. “It’s not about being right or wrong, but about supporting each other.”
Smiling woman sitting on couch with legs crossed | Source: Pexels
From that point on, the atmosphere in our home improved significantly. My husband and his father worked together to ensure that everyone felt valued and respected. My mother-in-law, with a newfound confidence, started to speak up more, expressing her thoughts and needs.
In the end, it wasn’t just about teaching a lesson. It was about growing together as a family and breaking free from outdated traditions that no longer served us. Our journey had its challenges, but it brought us closer and made us stronger.
A young family talking to their parents | Source: Pexels
In Sarah’s story, she was courageous enough to stand up to her father-in-law. But in the following one, Carmen feels guilty about doing the same thing. She questions whether teaching her in-law lesson was the right move.
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