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.
I Helped Plan My SIL’s Wedding, Baked the Cake, Paid for the Catering – Then Found Out on the Wedding Day I Wasn’t Invited
Dahlia pours her heart into planning her brother’s wedding. From designing the invitation to booking vendors to even baking the perfect cake. But on the big day, she discovers a brutal betrayal: she’s not invited. As secrets unravel and loyalties are tested, Dahlia must decide if some betrayals deserve forgiveness… or just a slice of revenge.
I’ve never been the kind of person to hold a grudge.
But I can say, without hesitation, that I will never forgive Claire for what she did to me.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
When my brother, Liam, got engaged, I was happy for him. Sure, Claire wasn’t my favorite person in the world. She had an edge to her, a way of making every conversation feel like a subtle competition.
But she seemed to love my brother.
And Liam? He was smitten.
A man holding a ring box | Source: Midjourney
So, when Claire begged me to help plan the wedding, I agreed. Not for her. But for Liam.
I helped design the invitations. I booked vendors. I coordinated the venue. And I even paid for catering and the wedding cake.
I spent weeks pouring my heart into their wedding. And I had no idea what Claire was planning behind my back.
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I tapped my pen against the edge of my desk, staring down at the sketches in front of me. Flour-dusted pages filled with delicate designs, tiers of smooth fondant, cascading sugar flowers, and intricate piping details.
The wedding cake had to be perfect.
I flipped through ideas, frowning.
Classic vanilla? Too boring.
Red velvet? Claire hated it.
A display of wedding cakes | Source: Midjourney
My pencil hovered over the page before I scribbled down the only choice that felt right.
Chocolate-peanut butter cake.
My lip twitched into a small smile. It was Liam’s favorite.
I could still picture us as kids, sitting on the kitchen floor, legs crossed as we licked chocolate frosting off the beaters. Our mom would make chocolate-peanut butter cupcakes every time Liam had a big event.
Cupcakes on a kitchen counter | Source: Midjourney
Birthdays, soccer games, even the time he got a participation trophy in third grade. He used to sneak into the kitchen and swipe extra spoonfuls of peanut butter frosting straight from the bowl.
“Best flavor in the world,” he’d say, licking it off his fingers.
A boy holding a cupcake | Source: Midjourney
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. Claire would probably want something fancy and pretentious. Some overpriced, trendy cake with sugared roses or some fancy French technique she found online.
But if I was pouring my heart into this cake, I wanted Liam to taste something familiar.
Something that felt like home.
A fancy wedding cake | Source: Midjourney
I pressed my pen into the paper, writing the final flavor choice in ink.
And then I exhaled, stretching my fingers. My fingers still ached from this morning’s baking.
A reminder of how far I’d come. A reminder of how much it had cost me.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
My bakery was my dream. My entire world. And for a while, I thought my marriage had been, too.
I swallowed hard, my eyes flicking to the stack of unopened letters on the corner of my desk. Useless apologies from my ex-husband, the divorce lawyer’s final bills, and, of course, inventory of all my stock.
I had loved my husband. Deeply. And for a while, I thought he had loved me, too.
The exterior of a bakery | Source: Midjourney
But in the end, he had only loved what I built. The successful business. The prestige of being married to a pastry chef whose cakes and pastries were featured in magazines.
Not me.
And the day I finally realized that? It broke me. And I felt I had no choice but to leave him. Either that or be his private bank.
I squeezed my eyes shut, inhaling deeply.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
Not now, Dahlia. This is about Liam.
I squared my shoulders and picked up my pen again.
Focus.
Because no matter what, Liam deserved a perfect wedding cake. Even if I didn’t believe in happy endings anymore.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
The morning of the wedding, I stood in the venue’s kitchen, carefully piping the final details onto the cake.
Guests were arriving, laughter spilling in from the grand hall. My heart swelled, knowing that I had helped bring this entire event together.
Then, my mom stormed in, her face like thunder.
“Sweetheart…” she hesitated, her hands gripping the kitchen counter. “You’re not on the guest list.”
An upset woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I let out a small laugh.
“What? That’s ridiculous. I’m literally holding their wedding cake.”
Mom’s face remained serious.
“Claire’s mom is checking the guest list. She says you’re not invited. And she won’t let you in.”
An upset woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney
My stomach dropped.
I set the piping bag down, my hands suddenly unsteady.
“Did she say why? What do you mean?”
Mom clenched her jaw.
“She refuses to explain.”
A person holding a piping bag | Source: Midjourney
A ringing noise filled my ears. I had spent months helping Claire plan this wedding. Months. And she didn’t even have the decency to tell me herself?
Mom was seething. Without another word, she stormed out to find Liam.
As for me?
I wiped my hands clean, pulled off my apron, and walked out of the side exit.
Broken.
The rear view of a woman | Source: Midjourney
Mom caught Liam just before the ceremony. He was adjusting his tie, smiling, completely unaware of what was happening.
“Liam,” she snapped. “Do you know that Claire didn’t invite your sister?”
Liam froze. His smile vanished.
An upset woman standing in a wedding venue | Source: Midjourney
“Wait. What? Why?”
“She won’t say. But she’s making sure Dahlia isn’t allowed inside. How can you allow that? She’s your sister!”
Liam’s face darkened. Without hesitation, he turned on his heel and marched straight to Claire.
A side-view of a groom | Source: Midjourney
Claire stood with her bridesmaids, basking in their compliments and practically glowing in her lace-covered gown.
She barely even looked up when Liam approached.
“Claire,” Liam said, his voice hard. “Did you seriously not invite my sister?”
A smiling bride | Source: Midjourney
Claire sighed, rolling her eyes.
“Ugh, babe. Not now,” she said. “Can we not do this on our wedding day?”
Liam didn’t move at all.
“Answer me.”
She huffed, clearly annoyed.
“Look, she helped us. So what? That was her gift to us. And honestly, let’s face it, it’s her job, too.”
A pensive groom | Source: Midjourney
Liam stared at her in disbelief.
“She paid for the food, Claire. She spent days baking the cake! And you just… what? Pretended she didn’t exist?”
Claire let out a dramatic sigh.
“Fine. You wanna know the reason? I didn’t want divorced people at our wedding. It’s bad energy, especially for the bride! I don’t want that kind of luck in our marriage! I didn’t invite a lot of my friends and cousins.”
A close up of a bride | Source: Midjourney
Liam’s jaw clenched.
“So you excluded my sister because she got a divorce?”
Claire shrugged.
“I mean… come on. It’s not my fault she couldn’t make it work. Why bring that kind of vibe to our day? And don’t be mad at me for just trying to stay happy? I’m superstitious, Liam! How do you not know this!?”
Liam fisted his hands at his sides, his entire body rigid with anger.
An upset groom | Source: Midjourney
“Marriages don’t fail because of ‘bad vibes,’ Claire. They fail because of selfish, cruel behavior. Like this!”
Claire’s smug expression faltered.
“Liam, don’t be dramatic. You’re seriously making a scene over this? You’re lucky I even let her help. I did her a favor.”
Liam stared at her for a long, cold moment.
A close up of a groom | Source: Midjourney
“You know what? You’re right,” he said calmly. “I don’t want bad energy at my wedding either.”
Claire frowned.
“Oh, so you understand what I mean?” she asked.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “Actually, I’m done. Just completely done.”
Liam wasn’t listening anymore. He turned on his heel and walked straight to the catering table.
Gasps filled the room as Liam grabbed the cake, but no one dared to stop him.
A wedding cake | Source: Midjourney
I was already home, curled up on the couch in stunned silence, when the doorbell rang.
I opened it to find Liam standing there, still in his suit, holding the wedding cake. For a second, neither of us spoke. His face was a mix of exhaustion and something heavier.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time and money on that wedding,” he said, his voice rough. “I’ll make her compensate you. But more than that…”
A woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney
My brother exhaled, shaking his head.
“Thank you. Because without you, I might never have seen Claire for who she really is.”
My throat tightened.
Liam had always been my big brother. The one who looked out for me. And today, when it really mattered… he chose me.
A man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
I stepped aside, and he walked in, setting the cake down on my coffee table.
For a long moment, we just stared at it.
Then Liam let out a breathless laugh.
“You know, I haven’t eaten all day.”
I grabbed two forks.
“Then let’s fix that.”
An open cutlery drawer | Source: Midjourney
We sat on the floor, still in formal clothes, digging straight into the wedding cake like a couple of sugar-starved kids.
Liam took one bite, then froze. His eyes flicked to mine, a soft, almost broken sound escaping his throat.
“Chocolate-peanut butter,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I swallowed thickly.
He stared at his fork, shaking his head.
A slice of cake | Source: Midjourney
“You made this for me,” he said.
It wasn’t a question. Just a quiet realization.
“Of course, I did, Liam.”
Liam pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. He took another bite, chewing carefully, like he was tasting more than just cake. Like he was remembering home.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
After a moment, he cleared his throat.
“You know… if this was the wedding cake, I guess that means I got the best part of today.”
I blinked. He exhaled.
“I walked away from someone who didn’t respect me. From a future that would have been miserable.”
He looked at me then, his voice quiet but sure.
“But I still have you.”
“Always,” I whispered.
A woman sitting on the floor | Source: Midjourney
I was in my office, running my fingers over the edge of a new cake design, when I heard a soft knock on the door.
For a second, I thought I imagined it.
Then, it came again. Tentative. Hesitant.
I exhaled, already tired.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
“Come in,” I called.
The door creaked open, and there she was.
Claire.
She looked… different. Not polished. Not smug. Just pale, uneasy, and carrying the kind of sadness that weighed down her shoulders.
I didn’t stand. I didn’t offer her a seat.
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A woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
I just folded my arms and waited.
“Hey.”
“You lost?” I raised an eyebrow.
She flinched but nodded, like she deserved that.
“No. I… I wanted to see you.”
I tilted my head, studying her.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“I can’t imagine why.”
Claire swallowed, staring down at her hands.
“Liam won’t talk to me. Won’t see me… He…” Her voice caught, and for a split second, I saw genuine regret in her eyes.
But it didn’t move me.
She took a breath, trying again.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“I messed up. I…” She exhaled sharply. “I was awful to you, Dahlia. I was selfish and cruel, and I…”
Her fingers twisted together.
“I never meant for things to go this way.”
I laughed, short and humorless.
“Really? Because it felt intentional.”
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
Claire winced.
“I thought…” she hesitated. “I thought I could control everything. That if I just pushed hard enough, I’d get my perfect day. And instead? I ruined everything.”
I didn’t say a word.
She glanced at me then, eyes uncertain.
“I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I wanted to…”
“Stop,” my voice was flat. “You don’t get to want anything from me, Claire.”
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
She swallowed hard.
I stood.
“You used me. Lied to me. Now, get out of my bakery.”
She hesitated. Then nodded once and turned toward the door.
She paused, her hand on the handle.
“I really am sorry.”
I didn’t answer. And a moment later, she was gone.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Marianne’s stepsisters have been stealing from her for months. From money to respect to her sense of security in her own home. Her mother won’t listen. Her stepfather won’t believe her. But Marianne refuses to stay powerless. With one ruthless plan, she turns the tables… and ensures that they never take from her again.
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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