I sat in front of the mirror, my fingers brushing against the lace of my bridal gown, tracing the exquisite floral designs sewn into the fabric.
Today was the day.
I was marrying Sam.
The love of my life.
A tear tickled the corner of my eye, and I chuckled at myself, wiping it away before it fell.
“Careful,” my maid of honor, Lauren, teased from the doorway, holding out a flute of champagne. “We spent way too long on your makeup for you to ruin it now.”
“I just…” My voice wavered. “I can’t believe this is real.”
And in just thirty minutes, I’d be heading down the aisle toward the man I’d loved for what seemed like an eternity.
I stood at the altar, my pulse hammering, my fingers curled around my bouquet, and locked eyes with Sam, my five-year fiancé.
Then the door creaked open.
A woman walked in.
She looked amazing. She had long, dark hair cascading over one shoulder and lips painted a vivid, vibrant red.
But it wasn’t her attractiveness that gave me a cold.
It was how she looked at Sam.
“Aren’t you going to tell them?” she asked, her voice smooth and confident.
“Tell us what?” I swallowed.
“That you’re already married, Sam,” she said.
I glanced at Sam, expecting him to chuckle, shake his head, or just do anything… anything!
But he did not.
Instead, he moved forward.
And then, right in the middle of our wedding, he walked to her.
God help me, he wrapped his arms around her.
Sam moved his lips, whispering something into her ear. Something only she could hear.
She gave a gentle laugh.
“I…” He exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Hazel, I need to explain this.”
I turned to her, my voice trembling.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Anna,” she said simply.
She was his childhood best buddy. Someone he had been close to for many years. But he never discussed marriage.
“Sam,” I said, forcing the words to come out. “Tell me the truth. Right now. In front of all our family and friends.”
“When we were kids, we had a pretend wedding,” he admitted. “Candy ring pops, a few scribbled vows, and Anna trying to play a song on her ukulele. We thought it was the real deal at the time. We were twelve.”
“But Anna is my best friend, that’s all.”
“Then why did you hold her like that? Why did she just walk in here and say that?”
“A few years ago,” he said, “Anna was in a terrible car accident.”
“The doctors said that she might never walk again.”
“Anna spent years in rehab, fighting to get her life back,” Sam continued. “I invited her to the wedding because how could I not have her here? But she told me that she wouldn’t be able to come.”
“I wanted to walk through those doors by myself,” Anna said just as softly.
“I’ve been practicing with heels for a long time now. I’ve literally been teaching myself how to walk in them for your day.”
“I’m so sorry for the drama, Hazel,” she said, her voice laced with something between guilt and amusement. “Sam and I have always pranked each other, and I thought… why not one last time?”
Tears flowed from the back of my eyes. I couldn’t believe it. This woman clawed her way back up, determined to regain her foothold.
I smiled at Sam.
“And I am so happy for you both. Truly,” Anna said.
The room was still. Then there was laughter.
The tension in the room subsided, and the vibe shifted as the visitors murmured and chuckled gently.
My wedding had been a dream.
The love. The joy. The warmth of it all.
My Husband Created a New Schedule for Me to ‘Become a Better Wife’ — I Taught Him a Good Lesson in Response
I was stunned when my husband, Jake, handed me a schedule to help me “become a better wife.” But instead of blowing up, I played along. Little did Jake know, I was about to teach him a lesson that would make him rethink his newfound approach to marriage.
I’ve always prided myself on being the level-headed one in our marriage. Jake, bless his heart, could get swept up in things pretty easily, whether it was a new hobby, or some random YouTube video that promised to change his life in three easy steps.
A man on an armchair | Source: Pexels
But we were solid until Jake met Steve. Steve was the type of guy who thought being loudly opinionated made him right, the type that talks right over you when you try to correct him.
He was also a perpetually single guy (who could have guessed?), who graciously dispensed relationship advice to all his married colleagues, Jake included. Jake should’ve known better, but my darling husband was positively smitten with Steve’s confidence.
I didn’t think much of it until Jake started making some noxious comments.
A man looking to the side | Source: Pexels
“Steve says relationships work best when the wife takes charge of the household,” he’d say. Or “Steve thinks it’s important for women to look good for their husbands, no matter how long they’ve been married.”
I’d roll my eyes and reply with some sarcastic remark, but it was getting under my skin. Jake was changing. He’d arch his eyebrows if I ordered takeout instead of cooking, and sigh when I let the laundry pile up because, God forbid, I had my own full-time job.
And then it happened. One night, he came home with The List.
A serious woman | Source: Pexels
He sat me down at the kitchen table, unfolded a piece of paper, and slid it across to me.
“I’ve been thinking,” he started, his voice dripping with a condescending tone I hadn’t heard from him before. “You’re a great wife, Lisa. But there’s room for improvement.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Oh really?”
He nodded, oblivious to the danger zone he was entering. “Yeah. Steve helped me realize that our marriage could be even better if you, you know, stepped up a bit.”
A man | Source: Pexels
I stared at the paper in front of me. It was a schedule… and he’d written “Lisa’s Weekly Routine for Becoming a Better Wife” at the top in bold.
This guy had actually sat down and mapped out my entire week based on what Steve — a single guy with zero relationship experience — thought I should do to “improve” myself as a wife.
I was supposed to wake up at 5 a.m. every day to make Jake a gourmet breakfast. Then I’d hit the gym for an hour to “stay in shape.”
A woman glancing down | Source: Pexels
After that? A delightful lineup of chores: cleaning, laundry, ironing. And that was all before I left for work. I was supposed to cook a meal from scratch every evening and make fancy snacks for Jake and his friends when they came over to hang out at our place.
The whole thing was sexist and insulting on so many levels I didn’t even know where to start. I ended up staring at him, wondering if my husband had lost his mind.
“This will be great for you, and us,” he continued, oblivious.
A happy man | Source: Pexels
“Steve says it’s important to maintain structure, and I think you could benefit from —”
“I could benefit from what?” I interrupted, my voice dangerously calm. Jake blinked, caught off guard by the interruption, but he recovered quickly.
“Well, you know, from having some guidance and a schedule.”
I wanted to throw that paper in his face and ask him if he’d developed a death wish. Instead, I did something that surprised even me: I smiled.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
“You’re right, Jake,” I said sweetly. “I’m so lucky that you made me this schedule. I’ll start tomorrow.”
The relief on his face was instant. I almost felt sorry for him as I got up and stuck the list on the fridge. Almost. He had no idea what was coming.
The next day, I couldn’t help but smirk as I studied the ridiculous schedule again. If Jake thought he could hand me a list of “improvements,” then he was about to find out just how much structure our life could really handle.
A woman working at a table | Source: Pexels
I pulled out my laptop, opened up a fresh document, and titled it, “Jake’s Plan for Becoming the Best Husband Ever.” He wanted a perfect wife? Fine. But there was a cost to perfection.
I began by listing all the things he had suggested for me, starting with the gym membership he was so keen on. It was laughable, really.
“$1,200 for a personal trainer.” I typed, barely containing my giggle.
A woman typing on a laptop | Source: Pexels
Next came the food. If Jake wanted to eat like a king, that wasn’t happening on our current grocery budget. Organic, non-GMO, free-range everything? That stuff didn’t come cheap.
“$700 per month for groceries,” I wrote. He’d probably need to chip in for a cooking class too. Those were pricey, but hey, perfection wasn’t free.
I leaned back in my chair, laughing to myself as I imagined Jake’s face when he saw this. But I wasn’t done. Oh no, the pièce de résistance was still to come.
A woman laughing | Source: Pexels
See, there was no way I could juggle all these expectations while holding down my job. If Jake wanted me to dedicate myself full-time to his absurd routine, then he’d have to compensate for the loss of my income.
I pulled up a calculator, estimating the value of my salary. Then, I added it to the list, complete with a little note: “$75,000 per year to replace Lisa’s salary since she will now be your full-time personal assistant, maid, and chef.”
My stomach hurt from laughing at this point.
A woman laughing hard | Source: Pexels
And just for good measure, I threw in a suggestion about him needing to expand the house. After all, if he was going to have his friends over regularly, they’d need a dedicated space that wouldn’t intrude on my newly organized, impossibly structured life.
“$50,000 to build a separate ‘man cave’ so Jake and his friends don’t disrupt Lisa’s schedule.”
By the time I was done, the list was a masterpiece. A financial and logistical nightmare, sure, but a masterpiece nonetheless. It wasn’t just a counterattack — it was a wake-up call.
A woman smiling at her laptop | Source: Pexels
I printed it out, set it neatly on the kitchen counter, and waited for Jake to come home. When he finally walked through the door that evening, he was in a good mood.
“Hey, babe,” he called out, dropping his keys on the counter. He spotted the paper almost immediately. “What’s this?”
I kept my face neutral, fighting the urge to laugh as I watched him pick it up. “Oh, it’s just a little list I put together for you,” I said sweetly, “to help you become the best husband ever.”
A grinning woman | Source: Pexels
Jake chuckled, thinking I was playing along with his little game. But as he scanned the first few lines, the grin started to fade. I could see the wheels turning in his head, the slow realization that this wasn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was.
“Wait… what is all this?” He squinted at the numbers, his eyes widening as he saw the total costs. “$1,200 for a personal trainer? $700 a month for groceries? What the hell, Lisa?”
I leaned against the kitchen island, crossing my arms.
A kitchen island | Source: Pexels
“Well, you want me to wake up at 5 a.m., hit the gym, make gourmet breakfasts, clean the house, cook dinner, and host your friends. I figured we should budget for all of that, don’t you think?”
His face turned pale as he flipped through the pages. “$75,000 a year? You’re quitting your job?!”
I shrugged. “How else am I supposed to follow your plan? I can’t work and be the perfect wife, right?”
He stared at the paper, dumbfounded.
A dumbfounded man | Source: Pexels
The numbers, the absurdity of his own demands, it all hit him at once. His smugness evaporated, replaced by a dawning realization that he had seriously, seriously messed up.
“I… I didn’t mean…” Jake stammered, looking at me with wide eyes. “Lisa, I didn’t mean for it to be like this. I just thought —”
“You thought what? That I could ‘improve’ myself like some project?” My voice was calm, but the hurt behind it was real. “Jake, marriage isn’t about lists or routines. It’s about respect. And if you ever try to ‘fix’ me like this again, you’ll be paying a hell of a lot more than what’s on that paper.”
A serious woman | Source: Pexels
Silence hung in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Jake’s face softened, his shoulders slumping as he let out a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t realize how ridiculous it was. Steve made it sound sensible, but now I see it’s… it’s toxic. Oh God, I’ve been such a fool.”
I nodded, watching him carefully. “Yes, you have. Honestly, have you looked at Steve’s life? What makes you think he has the life experience to give you advice about marriage? Or anything else?”
The look on his face as my words hit home was priceless.
A couple having a heated discussion | Source: Midjourney
“You’re right. And he could never afford to live like this.” He slapped the list with the back of his hand. “He… he has no idea about the costs involved, or how demeaning this is. Oh, Lisa, I got carried away again, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but we’ll recover. Now, let’s tear that paper up and go back to being equals.”
He smiled weakly, the tension breaking just a little. “Yeah… let’s do that.”
We ripped up the list together, and for the first time in weeks, I felt like we were back on the same team.
Torn paper | Source: Pexels
Maybe this was what we needed, a reminder that marriage isn’t about one person being “better” than the other. It’s about being better together.
Here’s another story: Nora thought her marriage to Vincent was solid, but a routine kitchen cabinet check while he was away revealed a devastating secret. A seemingly ordinary jar held a truth so shocking that it led her to file for divorce on the spot.
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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