Lisa worked tirelessly to afford a dream trip to Maui, only for her husband, Wade, to give her ticket to his mommy instead. Stunned but seething, Lisa starts planning the ultimate payback — one that will ensure his vacation is unforgettable for all the wrong reasons. I stared at the Maui resort website, my cursor hovering over the “Book Now” button like it was the detonator to a happiness bomb.
The photos showed pristine beaches, infinity pools, and those little umbrellas in coconut drinks that screamed “vacation.”
After a year of endless work and juggling the kids’ schedules with the precision of a circus performer, I needed this break like a caffeine addict needs their morning coffee. I let out a sigh of relief as I clicked the button. The confirmation page popped up with a cheerful ding, and I let loose with a little victorious air punch.
I was finally getting my dream vacation! Wade and I had agreed to split the cost fifty-fifty. I’d convinced him we needed a real vacation in January and had been working hard to make it happen all year.
I’d planned everything down to the minute: beachfront resort, sunset sail, snorkeling with sea turtles. I even scheduled in “spontaneous” relaxation time, because that’s the kind of control freak I’d become. The kids were thrilled about staying with my sister, Jane, for the week we’d be away.
“Mom,” my 13-year-old Emma had said, “Aunt Jane said she’ll give us ice cream for breakfast!”
I pretended to be scandalized, but honestly, Jane could feed them moon rocks for all I cared. This vacation was my light at the end of a very long, very dark, very exhausting tunnel. One week before our flight, all my dreams of relaxing on the beach came crashing down around me.
Wade’s mom was coming for dinner, so I was in the kitchen dishing up her special lasagna. She’d given me the recipe a year ago with great fanfare, like she was conveying a great honor. It was just regular lasagna with extra garlic and oregano.
I heard the front door open, and my mother-in-law’s distinctive perfume arrived about three seconds before she did. “Something smells wonderful!” Carol’s voice carried through the house like a foghorn of impending doom. She swept into the kitchen, designer purse swinging from her arm like a weapon.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
TAP → NEXT PAGE → 👇
