I’m Emma, and I thought a weekend at my fiancé’s family lake house would bring us closer, but his mom turned it into a grueling test, making me work and bathe outside in a bucket. When I learned her real plan, fate stepped in with a surprising twist.
“Let’s spend a weekend at our lake house,” my future mother-in-law, Karen, said warmly over the phone. “Just a simple visit to get closer.” I looked at my fiancé, Nate, who nodded eagerly from our couch. We’d been engaged for a few months, so it felt like the perfect time to bond with his family. “That sounds great,” I said, mimicking her sweet tone. Days later, we arrived, and my heart sank. The lake house was run-down, smelling of damp wood. Karen greeted us, hugging Nate before scanning me with a faint frown. “We haven’t cleaned,” she said airily. “Could you help, Emma? You’re practically family.” Nate protested, “Mom, we just arrived—” but she brushed him off. “It’ll be faster with her help.” I smiled tightly. “Of course.”
Soon, I was scrubbing sinks, my back aching. Outside, I heard laughter—Karen, Nate’s dad, and Nate, relaxing with drinks. “You’re doing amazing!” Karen called, her voice sugary but hollow. My teeth ground together, but I stayed silent. By dinner, I was starving. In the kitchen, Karen chirped, “We’re grilling! Can you manage the barbecue, Emma? We like capable women.” She handed me a tray of steaks, dismissing Nate’s offer to help. “Let her show us,” she said. I took it, feeling judged. As I grilled, Karen watched from the window, sipping wine, her smile sharp. This wasn’t about food—it was about proving myself. After dinner, still smoky, I asked, “Can I shower?” Karen’s eyes twinkled. “The indoor shower’s out,” she said sweetly. “But there’s a tub outside with a hose and curtain.” Nate looked away, quiet. “Okay,” I said, swallowing my pride.
Outside, the icy hose water stung as I washed in the shallow tub, the curtain barely shielding me. I blinked back tears, feeling degraded. This wasn’t family time—it was a cruel game. Next morning, I woke early, sticky from the rough bath. Nate slept in the creaky guest bed. In the kitchen, I overheard Karen on the phone outside. “I made her clean, cook, and bathe in the yard,” she chuckled. “She thinks the shower’s broken—it’s not. Just testing her strength.” My stomach churned, but I kept cool, plotting my response. I dodged Karen all morning, then took Nate for a lake walk. “Sorry about Mom,” he said. “She’s intense.” I scoffed. “Intense? She’s hazing me.” He sighed. “She’s making sure you’re right for me.” I nodded, doubtful.
Back at the house, a truck sat in the driveway. Suddenly, Karen’s scream pierced the air. We ran inside, finding Nate’s dad, Paul, stunned. “What’s up?” Nate asked. Paul gestured toward the bathroom. “The plumber came for the kitchen pipes. Your mom was… showering.” My jaw dropped. The “broken” shower? A nervous plumber rushed past, saying, “I used her entry code. Thought the place was empty.” Karen appeared, towel-clad, furious. “Why didn’t you tell him?!” she snapped at Paul. I smiled slightly. “I thought the shower was broken,” I said, eyes on hers. Nate stared at her. “You lied?” Her silence was enough. We packed that night, Nate barely speaking to Karen. She didn’t protest, her plan exposed. As we left, the lake glowed under the moon. Nate said, “I’m sorry I didn’t stop her.” I touched his arm. “She tested us both. We learned.” The road carried us away from her games. Sometimes, life delivers justice right on time. I opened the window, letting the breeze cleanse me.
