When Phoebe’s mother-in-law moves in for the week, she doesn’t just take the guest room. No, she takes Phoebe’s entire bedroom.
And her husband, Jake, lets it happen. But if they want to treat her like a guest in her own home?
She’ll show them exactly what checking out looks like.
I was actually excited when Doreen announced she was coming to stay for a week.
I fluffed the pillows in the guest room, put out fresh towels, and even stocked the bathroom with lavender-scented soap because I was feeling extra generous.
To top it off, I made her a batch of scones and cranberry and chocolate muffins.
I was on my A-game.
This was my mother-in-law, after all. I wanted her to feel welcome.
I didn’t realize she was planning a hostile takeover.
That afternoon, I came home from work thinking that Doreen would have made us dinner. Secretly, I was hoping for her delicious stew and homemade rolls.
But it turned out that she had something else cooking.
I got into a quiet house, so I stepped into my room, wanting to change into sweatpants and a sweater…
But instead of seeing my room as it should have been, I found Doreen.
Doreen was standing in the middle of my bedroom, happily unpacking her suitcase…
While tossing my clothes onto the floor!
My dresses?
Crumpled into a heap.
My shoes? Shoved into laundry baskets.
Her things? Neatly hung up in my closet like she owned the place.
For a moment, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
This woman hadn’t just taken over the room, she had erased me from it.
“Oh!
Good. You’re back, Phoebe!” she chirped, barely glancing at me. “Be a sweetheart and move your stuff to the guest room, would you?
There’s hardly any space in here with all my things.”
I just stared at her, still trying to understand how we got here.
Then Jake walked in, carrying her second suitcase like some hotel bellhop.
“Hey, Pheebs,” he said, like this was all completely normal. “Can you clear out of the room? Mom needs to rest.
She’s had a long flight. You can set up in the guest room for the week. I’ll be in my office because you know my back can’t handle the guest room bed.”
There was my husband, talking to me like I was the intruder.
Like I was someone he could just push around. Like my name wasn’t on the mortgage.
“I’m sorry, what?” I blinked. “You were saying?”
Jake sighed deeply.
It was like I was being difficult.
“Come on, Phoebe, it’s not a big deal, babe.”
He set Doreen’s suitcase down at the foot of my bed and straightened up.
“Mom is used to better accommodations, and we want her to be comfortable. It’s only a week, Phoebe. You’ll survive the guest room.”
I’d survive the guest room?
I couldn’t believe that this was coming from Jake. Moments ago, he had complained about the bed in the guest room, and now I was supposed to go in there and sleep like everything was fine?
What about what I was used to? What about… me?
I turned back to Doreen.
She had already settled onto my bed, propped up against my pillows, scrolling on her phone like a queen in her palace.
“Honestly, dear,” Doreen said, not even looking up from her phone. “It’s the least you could do. Family takes care of family, after all.”
I felt something hot and bitter rise in my throat.
Family.
Funny how “family” only applies when I’m the one being inconvenienced.
“So let me get this straight,” I said.
My voice came out calm, steady. “Your solution to having a guest in our home… was to move me out of my own bedroom?”
Jake rubbed the back of his neck.
“Well, when you put it like that…”
“I literally just walked in and found my clothes in a pile on the floor,” I cut in, my voice sharper now.
I turned to Doreen.
“Did it ever even cross your mind to just, oh, I don’t know, stay in the guest room? I had it set up for you, too.”
Doreen finally looked at me, her expression shifting into something condescending and sickly sweet.
“Oh, honey.
The guest room is far too small for me, Phoebe. It’s perfectly fine for you, though.”
“Oh, is it?” I laughed.
I actually laughed out loud.
Jake shot me a warning look.
“Phoebe, let’s not make this a thing. Please.”
I looked at my husband.
Like, I really looked at him.
The way he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. The way he stood there, not on my side. The way he had known this was happening and didn’t think I deserved a conversation about it.
My chest felt tight.
This wasn’t just about the bed.
It wasn’t even about the room. It was about respect and me realizing that I didn’t have any respect here.
And suddenly?
I was done.
I didn’t yell. I didn’t argue.
I just smiled.
Then, I walked to the guest room. Jake thought I was moving into the guest room?
Oh, I was moving, all right.
I grabbed a suitcase and packed a few essentials. I took some clothes, my toiletries, and my laptop.
Then, I wrote a very special note and left it on the guest room nightstand.
Since you two clearly have everything under control at home, I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your week together. I’ll be back when the house feels like mine again.
Best of luck!
Then, I picked up my purse, turned my phone on silent, and walked out of the front door.
I didn’t go to my sister’s.
I didn’t go to a friend’s.
Nah. There was no need for any of that.
Instead, I checked myself into a luxury hotel across town. I made sure that there was a spa, room service, and a king-sized bed that no one could try to steal out from under me.
And because life is all about balance?
I booked it all on Jake’s credit card.
The steam curled around me, thick and warm, as I
Doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page. Tap READ MORE to discover the rest 🔎👇
