I’m Ava, and I thought a lake house weekend with my fiancé’s family would be fun, but his mom made me slave away and wash in an outdoor tub. When I uncovered her sneaky plan, the universe dished out a well-timed surprise that flipped the script.
“Please come to our lake house,” my future mother-in-law, Linda, said kindly over the phone. “A cozy trip to get to know you.” I glanced at my fiancé, Sam, who gave a big smile from our kitchen. Engaged for three months, it seemed like a good chance to bond. “Sounds perfect,” I said, echoing her warmth. When we arrived, my excitement faded. The lake house was shabby, reeking of mildew. Linda hugged Sam, then gave me a quick once-over, her smile forced. “We haven’t had time to spruce up,” she said lightly. “Can you help, Ava? You’re almost family.” Sam started, “Mom, we just got here—” but she cut him off. “She can handle it.” I nodded stiffly. “Sure thing.”
Soon, I was mopping floors, my hands sore. Through the window, I heard giggles—Linda, Sam’s dad, and Sam, lounging with drinks. “Looking good, Ava!” Linda called, her voice fake-sweet. My jaw tightened, but I kept quiet. By evening, I was famished. In the kitchen, Linda said, “We’re grilling tonight! Can you do it, Ava? We like women who can handle things.” She handed me a tray of burgers, brushing off Sam’s help. “Let her prove herself,” she said. I took it, feeling like I was on trial. As I grilled, Linda watched, wine glass in hand, her smile smug. This wasn’t dinner—it was a challenge. After eating, still smelling of grease, I asked, “Can I shower?” Linda’s eyes lit up. “Indoor shower’s broken,” she said, too cheery. “There’s a basin outside with a hose.” Sam looked down, silent. “Thanks,” I muttered, grabbing a towel.
Outside, the freezing hose water shocked me as I washed in the flimsy tub, the curtain flapping. I fought tears, feeling humiliated. This wasn’t a getaway—it was a setup. Next morning, I woke early, gritty from the rough bath. Sam slept in the sagging guest bed. In the kitchen, I overheard Linda on the phone outside. “I had her scrub, cook, and bathe outside,” she laughed. “She thinks the shower’s broken—it’s fine. Just testing her.” My heart raced, but I stayed calm, planning my move. I avoided Linda all morning, then took Sam for a lake stroll. “Sorry about Mom,” he said. “She’s tough.” I snorted. “Tough? She’s putting me through boot camp.” He sighed. “She’s checking if you fit our family.” I nodded, unconvinced.
Returning, we saw a truck in the driveway. A scream rang out—Linda’s. We rushed in, finding Sam’s dad, Mike, confused. “What’s wrong?” Sam asked. Mike pointed to the bathroom. “Plumber came for the kitchen sink. Your mom was… in the shower.” My eyes widened. The “broken” shower? A rattled plumber hurried past, saying, “Used her code to enter. Thought no one was here.” Linda stormed out, towel-wrapped, fuming. “Why didn’t you tell him?!” she yelled at Mike. I smirked. “Thought the shower was broken,” I said, meeting her gaze. Sam looked at her. “You lied?” Her silence confirmed it. We packed that night, Sam cold toward Linda. She didn’t stop us, her game over. As we drove off, the lake shimmered. Sam said, “Sorry I didn’t stand up for you.” I touched his hand. “She tested us both. We got answers.” The road led us away from her tricks. Sometimes, justice sneaks in perfectly. I lowered the window, feeling clean at last.
