“We’d love to get to know you better,” my future MIL cooed over the phone. “Just a quiet getaway at our lake house.”
Josh gave me a thumbs-up. We’d been engaged three months — it seemed like the right time.
“That sounds lovely,” I said sweetly. “We can’t wait.”
But when we arrived, the lake house looked like a horror movie set — musty, dusty, and untouched. Josh’s mom barely said hello before handing me cleaning supplies. “You know… since you’re going to be family.”
Josh tried to intervene, but she waved him off. Hours later, I was still scrubbing while they relaxed on the porch.
“Hope you know how to grill,” she said at dinner. “We like our women capable.”
I cooked while she watched, wine in hand, smiling like it was all a game.
After dinner, I asked about a shower.
“Oh, sweetie,” she chirped, “the indoor one’s broken. But we have a basin out back!”
That night, shivering under cold water, I swallowed my pride. But the next morning, I overheard her laughing on the phone: “She thinks the shower’s broken. Just wanted to see what kind of girl she is. A little test.”
I wanted to scream. Instead, I stayed silent.
Later, Josh and I walked by the lake.
“She’s just… protective,” he said.
“By making me play Cinderella?”
“She’ll come around,” he offered weakly.
Back at the house, a scream rang out — his mother’s. The plumber had arrived early and walked in on her… in the supposedly broken shower.
Josh was stunned. “You lied?” he asked.
She said nothing. The truth was clear.
We packed and left without a word.
Halfway home, Josh said, “I’m sorry. For not standing up for you.”
“Some tests backfire,” I said. “She wasn’t just testing me. She was testing you, too.”
We both learned something that weekend.
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