MY HUSBAND CANCELED OUR 10TH ANNIVERSARY TRIP TO TAKE HIS MOM ON VACATION – SO I TOOK REVENGE IN A WAY HE NEVER SAW COMING

I worked my tail off all year to make sure our house payments were covered. By the time vacation season rolled around, I was desperate for a break. The trip to Maui was my idea—something to recharge after months of stress. I planned every detail and split the costs 50/50 with my husband, Wade.

A week before our flight, Wade invited his mom over for dinner. While I was serving the meal, my MIL started griping about how hard her life had been. Apparently, she was “so exhausted” and needed “a fancy getaway.” I mean, really? She’s retired. She’s never watched the kids, not even once.

And then Wade hit me with, “Why don’t you let Mom take your ticket?”

I just froze.

“I worked my butt off all year to save for this trip! I’m exhausted, Wade. I need this break.”

But oh no, that wasn’t good enough for Wade. According to him, “a lot of women work these days,” and apparently, that was my choice, so I shouldn’t blame him. “You’re making this into a big deal,” he said. “This is about my mom right now.”

That was it. The last straw. I was done. So yeah, I transferred my ticket to MIL’s name. But it wasn’t me giving up—I had a plan. I just needed Wade out of the house long enough to get everything ready.

Sure enough, a few hours after their plane landed, my phone buzzed. Wade was on the line, yelling, “WHAT DID YOU DO?! IT’S SO SELFISH!”

I didn’t even flinch.

“You want to talk about selfish?” I replied calmly. “Check the hotel reservation. Oh, and maybe peek at the itinerary. That might help.”

You see, while Wade was packing for a relaxing island getaway with his overbearing mother, I was busy changing the name on everything—but not just the plane ticket. I updated the hotel booking, the dinner reservations, the spa appointments. Everything was now under his mom’s name… solo.

Wade thought he was going to sip cocktails by the pool while his mom got pampered. Turns out, he wasn’t even on the hotel reservation anymore. Just her. I told him I assumed he was doing a sweet mother-son trip. So I made sure they’d have separate rooms—his was across the street at a budget inn.

“You left me here in this roach motel while your mom gets five-star treatment?!” he shouted.

“Well,” I said, “maybe next time you’ll think twice before calling your wife dramatic.”

Then I hung up.

And let me be real with you: it felt damn good.

But that was just the start.

While Wade was stuck across from a construction site with spotty Wi-Fi and a vending machine dinner, I took my own little trip—solo. I booked a last-minute stay at a quiet bed-and-breakfast up in Oregon’s wine country. No distractions, no passive-aggressive mother-in-law, and definitely no man-child husband needing validation for his martyrdom.

I read by the fire, ate what I wanted, took long baths, and didn’t answer a single call from him all weekend. The silence was golden.

When I got back home, I found a half-wilted bouquet of grocery store flowers on the kitchen table and a note that read: “Can we talk?”