You think you’re stepping into a dream when you marry the love of your life. But that dream quickly turns into a nightmare when you’re handed a list of rules on how to be a “good wife.” And this is where my revenge began.
When I was growing up, I had always imagined marriage would be different.
I pictured Sunday mornings spent in bed, laughing over shared secrets, a partnership built on love and mutual respect.
But reality has a funny way of hitting you right between the eyes.
Dan and I had just tied the knot. The wedding was perfect — small, intimate, everything I’d dreamed of.
And for a while, it felt like a fairy tale. Dan was kind and funny, and I truly believed we were on the same page about how we wanted to live our lives together. That is, until Karen, his mother, handed me a gift after the ceremony.
I remember standing in our living room, still basking in that post-wedding glow, when Karen approached me with her “special” present.
“This is for you, Lucia.
A little something to help you as you step into your new role.” She handed me an ornate box with a wide smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Inside the box was a neatly folded piece of paper. When I unfolded it, my jaw dropped. At the top, in bold, it read: “How to Be a Good Wife for My Son.”
At first, I laughed.
I thought it was some joke. Maybe Karen was poking fun at those old-fashioned stereotypes about marriage.
But as I kept reading, my smile faded. It was a list — an actual list of rules I was expected to follow as Dan’s wife.
I looked over at Dan, hoping he’d be just as baffled as I was, but he was busy opening his own gift.
A check. A fat one, no less. And me?
I got a rulebook.
Later that evening, Dan approached me with a sheepish grin. “You got the rules my mom gave you, didn’t you?” he asked, as if it were some casual suggestion, not a manual for a life of servitude.
“YEP… I did,” I replied, trying to keep the sarcasm out of my voice but failing miserably.
Dan shifted uncomfortably and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, you know, that’s how it must be now.
Marriage is different from dating.”
I blinked at him, waiting for him to crack a smile, to say something that made it all a joke. But he didn’t.
“Wait… You’re serious?” I asked, staring at him as if I didn’t recognize the man I’d just married.
He shrugged. “It’s just how things are.
Mom says it’s important to keep things in order, you know?”
I bit my lip, holding back a sharp retort. Keep things in order. That’s how they saw me now?
After Dan fell asleep, I read through the list again, my hands trembling with shock and fury.
I couldn’t believe the audacity.
Here’s a taste of the insanity I was supposed to follow:
At 6 a.m., you have to be fully dressed with makeup on, cooking a hot breakfast for Dan. Remember, no veggies, no milk, no butter; he only likes plain eggs and toast. Make sure the toast is exactly golden brown, and don’t forget to serve it on a blue plate because the green one ruins his appetite.
Do all the grocery shopping yourself.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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