My future MIL gave me a list of 10 rules to become the “perfect” wife for her son. I smiled, nodded… and decided to follow every one of them. Just not the way she expected.
I’d always been an ordinary woman with ordinary needs. Nothing extravagant. I wanted to work, have a few hobbies, maybe travel a bit, and one day build a family.
I didn’t equate life with grand happiness — I simply lived it and appreciated what I had.
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Until I met Dylan.
My friends used to talk about him like he’d stepped straight out of a luxury shower gel commercial.
“He supports everyone, no matter what!”
“His suits are always spotless.”
“And he never forgets to open the door for a lady. Never!”
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I used to smile politely, not quite believing men like that existed outside romcoms. But the first time Dylan took my hand in his — I got it.
Dylan made my life feel cinematic. Almost too good to be true. I found myself blooming next to him, dreaming bigger, smiling more. I even started cooking with joy.
We moved in together pretty quickly, and strangely, domestic life didn’t ruin the magic. If anything, it strengthened it. The toothbrush next to mine and the grocery runs were small rituals that made me fall harder.
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Everything felt… easy. The perfection of it didn’t scare me. It reminded me how simple love could be when two people were honest.
That evening, we were having dinner at our favorite trattoria. But Dylan seemed… different. Fidgety.
“You okay?” I asked, smiling softly when we finally went outside.
He nodded and suddenly… he knelt. In the middle of the street. With a proposal ring in a tiny box.
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“I knew it from the moment you said pesto was overrated,” he began. “That’s when I realized… I want to wake up next to you, even on the days you’re mad at me for forgetting to bring home oat milk. You’re my heart. Will you be my wife?”
Something in my chest melted completely.
“Yes… Of course, yes.”
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He slipped the ring onto my finger. The tables around us erupted in applause. It was perfect.
Right up until the following day, when Dylan said,
“I think it’s time you meet my mom. You’re going to adore her…”
And that’s when I felt the tiniest tremor in our fairytale. The kind that makes you wonder… if the perfect story is about to take a turn.
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***
We didn’t wait long to plan the trip. Dylan was too excited to tell his mom the news. So the very next morning — it was Saturday — we packed an overnight bag and hit the road to his parents’ place in the countryside.
Dylan hummed along to some 80s playlist as he drove, while I tried to decide if I was overdressed.
“Just wait till you try her lemon tart. Mom’s a legend in the kitchen. And she’s so excited to meet you.”
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I laughed, nervously. “Sounds… charming?”
“She’s amazing. You’ll see.”
In half an hour, the front door flew open before we even knocked.
“Diiiiilan!” a sing-song voice echoed, and there she was. Elen.
The woman wore head-to-toe baby pink — a satin blouse with a bow the size of a toddler and matching trousers.
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“And you must be the darling girl!” she squealed, pulling me into a hug.
Elen smelled of roses and baby powder. I sneezed quietly into her shoulder. As soon as she inhaled the soft trail of my perfume, she gave a tiny cough.
“Oh my,” she said with a polite little wince. “Is that… jasmine?”
I nodded, already regretting it.
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“Lovely… if one can tolerate it. Tee-hee!”
Great… Two seconds into our first hug and we already have a mutual allergy to each other’s taste in perfume. Coincidence? Unlikely.
“Look at those cheeks! You are real!” Elen giggled, giving Dylan’s arm a little slap. “She’s prettier than your last girlfriend.”
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“Mom…” Dylan chuckled, clearly charmed.
We walked through the garden toward the house, and for a moment I let myself admire the rose bushes until my eyes landed on something… unexpected.
A small bronze statue, oddly placed between two ceramic bunnies. Elen noticed. Of course, she did.
“That’s my little Cupid,” she said proudly.
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The poor thing had a chipped wing, a dented face, and an overall expression.
“I found it in a darling little antique shop upstate,” she went on. “Of course, it arrived scratched. But he has character.”
Her voice wavered just enough to give her away — she adored the odd little creature.
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We walked in. The house was a shrine to florals. Floral curtains, floral sofa cushions, even a porcelain tissue box shaped like a bouquet.
Over tea (served in rose-patterned cups, naturally), Elen asked me questions so sweetly I almost didn’t notice the blades hiding behind them.
“So, do you actually work, or is it more of a hobby?”
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“Uh… well, I have a full-time job in marketing,” I said, trying to smile. “It’s…”
“She’s really talented,” Dylan cut in proudly.
Each time, she ended with a sharp little laugh, like a kitten pawing you after unsheathing its claws.
“Tee-hee!”
Dylan, bless him, looked enchanted.
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“Isn’t she just the cutest?” he whispered to me later. “She’s always been so warm.”
Warm. Like a scented candle right before it gives you a headache.
After dinner, Dylan stepped out to the garage with his father to check on some old stereo system. Elen and I were left alone. She stood. Smoothed her pink blouse.
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“Now that it’s just us girls. I think it’s time we had a little honest talk, don’t you?”
I froze, my spoon halfway to the crème brûlée.
“You’re going to marry my son. So it’s only fair that I tell you exactly what’s expected of you as a future perfect daughter-in-law.”
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She reached into a drawer. And pulled out a pink sheet of paper with little roses printed along the edges.
“These are just a few small expectations,” she said sweetly. “I find it helps if we’re all on the same page.”
She placed it in front of me. Across the top, in pink script, I read:
“10 Rules for the Ideal Future Daughter-in-Law.”
At that moment I realized — I might be holding the contract to my horror movie.
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***
It was Sunday afternoon. My friends and I were curled up on the couch in my apartment with two open pizza boxes and three untouched oat milk lattes that had gone cold ages ago.
I didn’t need caffeine. I had rage.
“Start from the beginning,” Emma said. “I want to picture the whole pastel nightmare.”
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I took a breath and stared into the middle distance, letting the horror replay.
“Okay. So we get there, and she’s dressed like a life-sized cupcake. Baby pink from head to toe. She hugs me, coughs at my jasmine perfume, and… And…”
Sasha snorted. “I knew it. I knew she’d be a tee-hee monster.”
“And the house? Floral vomit. Everywhere. The tissue box had roses.”
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Emma leaned in.
“Did she bring out the list immediately?”
I held up a finger. “Not yet. First, she asked if I actually work or if it’s just, you know, a hobby.”
“No!” Sasha gasped. “She did not.”
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“Oh, she did. And then,” I continued, voice rising, “she pulls out a list.”
Emma’s jaw dropped.
“What kind of medieval sorcery is that?”
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“She reached into a drawer like it was a magic hat — and pulled out my personal horror scroll. Pink. Floral. Smug.”
I reached into my bag and tossed the folded sheet on the table.
“I couldn’t sleep that night. I read it so many times, it’s burned into my brain.”
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My friends leaned over to read. I watched their faces twist with each line. Here’s what it said:
1. Lose 10 pounds before the wedding. No exceptions.
2. Agree with your mother-in-law. Always.
3. Get a proper job. Hobbies are not working
4. Handle all housework. Without complaining.
5. Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.
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6. I will choose the baby’s name. No discussion.
7. Cut contact with all men except your husband. Even at work.
8. Give me a key to your home. I need full access.
9. Keep your phone’s location on at all times.
10. Do not argue with me. I am always right.
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Emma leaned back slowly.
“That woman is two pearls away from full-blown dictatorship.”
Sasha looked at me.
“So… what did you do? Did you tell Dylan?”
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“No. I didn’t want to crush him. Not yet. But I knew I had to wake him up from the syrupy-pink fog Elen’s got him in.”
“You didn’t…”
“Oh, I did. I decided to follow the rules. Every single one. With my own interpretation.”
“You’re going to play her game?”
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“Exactly. I start next weekend. With item number five.”
Sasha grabbed it and read aloud.
“Clean my house every weekend. Bathrooms included.”
“Oh, I’m going,” I said, already feeling that fire in my chest. “But the cleaning won’t be quite what she expects.”
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***
It was Saturday morning. Sun shining, birds chirping, my revenge plan locked and loaded. I had Dylan’s spare key from Elen’s house.
I arrived at 10 a.m. in full cleaning mode. Rubber gloves. A tote bag filled with goodies. A fresh can of ultra-strong jasmine air freshener. And a single red sock.
Let the games begin.
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Step one: Laundry. I found her perfectly folded white sheets — Egyptian cotton, monogrammed — and casually tossed them into the washer with the red sock I’d brought for this very mission. The cycle began. I grinned.
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Step two: Scent domination. I sprayed jasmine air freshener in every corner of every room.
Two spritzes in the bathroom.
Three in the hallway.
One on the welcome mat — because first impressions matter.
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Step three: The rearrangement. I moved her ceramic angel collection from the fireplace mantel to the kitchen counter. The TV remote went into the wardrobe. Her favorite slippers? Her “FAMILY IS FOREVER” wooden sign? Hung upside down.
And then came the Cupid. That little bronze nightmare glared at me from the garden, as if daring me.
I wrapped him gently in a towel and carried him to…I’ll tell you later.
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By noon, the house was spotless. But it no longer screamed “Elen.” It screamed “new management.”
I closed the door behind me and practically skipped home.
***
The next morning, just as I was tying my sneakers to head out, someone started pounding on my door. I opened it.
Elen stood there, wild-eyed, hair slightly askew, holding a pink bedsheet like it was a crime scene photo.
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“You turned my entire house into a scented circus!” she yelled. “Everything smells like cheap perfume! My shirts are pink! And where is my Cupid?!”
I blinked innocently.
“Oh, good morning. I think you are fond of pink.”
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“Don’t ‘good morning’ me! I want everything back the way it was! Now!”
“Oh… sorry. Can’t.”
She stared at me.
“I’m late for the gym,” I said casually, tying my shoelace tighter. “Punct number one on your list, remember? Lose ten pounds before the wedding.”
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Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“And the statue?” she hissed.
“Oh, I thought It’s trash. So I hired guys to get it out.”
“How dare you?!”
Just then, Dylan appeared behind me, rubbing his eyes.
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“Mom? Why are you yelling?”
“Ask her!” Elen said, spinning toward him. “She sabotaged my home! She poisoned the air! And she… she threw out Cupid!”
Dylan blinked. “Cupid?”
“My statue! My precious little bronze guardian!”
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“Cupid’s not gone. He’s just… enjoying a quiet retirement in the garage. I thought he deserved a break from all that pollen. I just followed the rules,” I said sweetly, pulling the crumpled pink paper from my bag and handing it to Dylan.
His eyes moved line by line.
“Mom… what is this?”
“A helpful guide! To support her! To prepare her for a life with you!”
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“With me or with you?”
I grabbed my gym bag and smiled.
“Anyway, I really have to run. Zumba waits for no one.”
Elen’s nostrils flared. I looked over my shoulder with one last, sugar-sweet nod.
“Don’t worry. I’m taking your list very seriously. You might want to start your own.”
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Just before I reached the door, Dylan turned to his mother.
“Mom, we really need to talk. And this time, I need you to listen.”
I stepped outside, letting the door click softly behind me, and left my future MIL standing face to face with her sin, the man I loved, finally ready to draw his own lines.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I was working a night shift, exhausted but grateful—until I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw my husband in the back seat… with another woman. I stayed silent, already planning his downfall.
My MIL Went on My Honeymoon to Make My Life Hell — I Didn’t Want to Put up with It & Planned the Perfect Payback
My story is about learning to set boundaries, respect, and so much more. What started off as a trip for a loving couple ended up being a strained vacation which included my troublesome mother-in-law. Luckily, I had a plan that helped remedy my problem.
What was meant to be a romantic getaway for me and my new husband turned into a nightmare very quickly when an unexpected guest joined us. Let me backtrack a bit and explain how all this happened.
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My husband, Mike, and I were getting ready to go on our honeymoon. We had planned this trip for months, and I was buzzing with excitement! As we got into the car to head to the airport, Mike casually mentioned that we needed to stop by his mother’s place first.
“Why?” I asked, puzzled. “Because she’s coming with us.” I was confused and asked, “What?” Sighing, he explained, “She’s never been on a vacation or traveled abroad in her entire life, so it’s only fair she goes with us.”
An upset woman driving with a man | Source: Pexels
To say I was stunned would be an understatement! “When were you planning to tell me this? And what about our previous reservations?” I asked, trying to keep my voice calm. “I changed the reservations and tickets a while ago,” he informed me.
“The truth is she insisted on it, and I thought you wouldn’t mind since you’re such a kind person.” That statement took me from confused to LIVID! I was furious that he had decided everything without me and had changed our bookings.
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Just the idea of being away on the islands with my mother-in-law (MIL) for two weeks sounded like hell! I was so torn that I even considered canceling everything! But then a BRILLIANT IDEA STRUCK ME! When we got to my MIL’s place, my husband went out to fetch her.
While Mike was loading his mother’s luggage into our car, I made a quick phone call. “Mom, hi. I have a bit of a problem,” I began. “What happened, dear?” Her voice sounded concerned. “My MIL made Mike take her with us on our honeymoon.”
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“What?! Oh no, Elle!” my mother exclaimed in shock and instant disappointment. “She’s coming with us to the islands, and I have no idea how I’m going to handle it. Could you and Dad join us? I’ll book your tickets.” Concerned, she asked, “How did that happen?”
“I can’t get into details now, Mom. I need to act quickly.” Mom immediately grasped the situation and replied with understanding, “Of course, dear. Your father and I would be happy to come! Let us know where you’ll be staying, and we’ll arrange everything.”
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I booked their tickets online without wasting any time and shared all the details with Mom. She promised to do everything possible to ensure I could enjoy my time with Mike without worrying about my busybody of a MIL.
When we arrived at the islands, the nightmare began immediately. Linda followed us EVERYWHERE! She was CONSTANTLY complaining and demanding her son’s attention. We couldn’t get a break or any alone time with her around.
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“Mike, bring me a towel. Mike, order me a cocktail. Mike, help me choose souvenirs.” Her incessant requests were ENDLESS! It felt as if she were his wife, not me. Instead, I felt like I was some sort of servant.
The first two days were a disaster! Linda ensured that she was the center of attention. And every romantic moment I had envisioned was quickly ruined. She criticized the hotel, the food, and EVEN the weather!
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Mike, caught between his mother and me, tried to keep the peace. But he ended up spending MOST of his time catering to her whims. On the second night, we decided to have a special dinner by the beach. Just as I thought we were about to enjoy a moment alone, Linda INSISTED on joining us.
She spent the entire meal complaining about the sand and the mosquitoes, leaving me seething with frustration! At one point, she even managed to spill her drink all over MY dress! Instead of apologizing, she laughed it off!
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“Oh dear, I’m so clumsy. Mike, can you get her another drink?” was her response to the disaster. I could see the strain on my husband’s face as he tried to juggle his mother’s demands with my growing frustration.
The romantic beachside dinner turned into another exercise in patience. The next morning, Linda decided that she wanted to go snorkeling. This was a plan Mike and I had initially made for ourselves. “It’s not safe for you to go alone,” she insisted. “Mike, you should come with me.”
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I had reached my breaking point. I needed an ally, someone who would understand my predicament and help me reclaim my honeymoon. Thankfully, two days later, my parents arrived. My mother, Diane, and my father, Jack, played the perfect loving couple!
Their gestures were romantic with movie-like kisses, driving Linda CRAZY with jealousy! See, my MIL had left her husband at home and came on vacation alone. So she was stuck being exposed to my mom and dad who looked like happy, affectionate old lovebirds.
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They laid the affection thick, holding hands, whispering sweet nothings, and kissing frequently. This made Linda’s jealousy palpable! I was honestly shocked as I’d never seen my parents act like that before. But they seemed to be enjoying themselves, so I didn’t mind.
“I’ve never seen such an old loving couple,” Linda grumbled as we all had dinner together. “All those hugs and kisses… it’s just ridiculous.”
“We’re enjoying life,” Mom replied with a smile. “What else is there to do in such a wonderful place?”
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Linda’s jealousy reached new heights when Mom and Dad joined us for breakfast the next day. They fed each other bites of fruit and laughed over shared memories. My MIL could barely contain her irritation.
“Jack, do you remember our trip to Paris?” Mom asked, her eyes twinkling. “That little café by the Seine?”
“Oh, how could I forget? The croissants were divine, but your company was even better,” Dad replied, kissing her hand.
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Linda rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath. I couldn’t help but smirk, feeling a small sense of victory. With my MIL preoccupied with my parents, Mike and I finally had a few romantic moments.
One evening, as we strolled along the beach, he stopped and looked into my eyes. “I’m sorry, my love,” he said quietly. “I realize now it wasn’t fair to you. My mom shouldn’t have come with us.” I sighed and took his hand. “The important thing is that we’re here together.”
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“And we’ll find a way to enjoy this honeymoon, even with your mom around.” Returning to our hotel, we saw Mom and Dad playing cards with Linda. They laughed and joked as if they were old friends. “How were your walks?” Mom asked, noticing us.
“Wonderful,” Mike replied, hugging me. “We found a cozy spot for dinner tomorrow. Maybe we could go just the two of us?” he asked. “Of course,” Mom winked. “We’ll stay here and take care of Clarissa.”
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The next day, Mike and I finally had a proper romantic evening. We sat on the beach, watched the sunset, and shared dreams about our future. “You know,” he said, holding my hand, “I never thought a honeymoon could be so… eventful. But I’m glad we’re here together.”
“Me too,” I replied, smiling. “And I’m grateful to my parents for coming. Perhaps we can find more time for the two of us.” Mike said he’d love that and we shared a warm and loving kiss.
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When we returned to the hotel, we saw my MIL saying goodnight to my parents. “It was a lovely evening,” she said to them reluctantly. “Thank you for the company.” My parents smiled and winked at me. They knew they were making our vacation better.
This honeymoon tested us, but we emerged stronger. And I was grateful to my parents for their support and love. In the end, what was supposed to be a nightmare turned into a memorable experience, thanks to my parents.
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It taught Mike and me the importance of communication and setting boundaries. It showed Linda that her son’s happiness depended on his marriage, not her whims. A few weeks after we returned home, Mike and I sat down with Linda.
Gently but firmly, we set some new ground rules for our relationship. Surprisingly, she agreed, perhaps realizing that her son’s happiness was at stake. “Thank you for understanding, Mom,” Mike said, hugging her. “We love you, but we also need our space.”
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“Of course, dear,” Linda replied, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I just want you both to be happy.” And with that, we began to rebuild our lives, stronger and more united than ever.
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Elle managed to put her MIL in her place nicely. In the following tale, Barbara thought she would get into her MIL’s good graces by throwing her a surprise birthday party. Instead, the older woman thanked her by bringing her to tears and making her run away from her own party.
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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