The moment I saw our front door ajar and trash scattered across the porch, I knew something was horribly wrong. But nothing could have prepared me for the chaos inside or the wild turn of events that followed.
I sat at the edge of the bed, staring out the window, letting the soft hum of the city fill the silence. My husband, Ethan, was busy packing our suitcases in the other room, but my mind was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about how different our lives were compared to his brother, Stan.
A thoughtful woman staring out the window of her room | Source: Midjourney
Ethan and I had built our life from the ground up. We weren’t rich, but we weren’t struggling either. We had this modest, cozy house, a place we’d filled with love and countless memories. It was our sanctuary.
Despite coming from a wealthy family, Ethan had always wanted to make his own way in the world. He worked hard, never asking for handouts, not even when his father, Howard, practically begged him to join the family business.
A middle-aged businessman standing in his office | Source: Midjourney
Stan, on the other hand, well, he was another story entirely. He thrived on the luxuries that came with their father’s money. I mean, Stan had never even had a real job outside of working for their dad.
And even there, he didn’t really “work.” He just showed up, smiled, and enjoyed the perks of being the boss’s son. Fancy cars, exclusive parties, designer clothes. He loved it all.
But it wasn’t just the material things. Stan was reckless. He had this sense of entitlement that bordered on delusion. If he wanted something, he took it; no questions asked.
An entitled man standing next to his fancy car | Source: Midjourney
I sighed, pushing those thoughts away. Ethan poked his head into the room. “You ready?” he asked, zipping up the last suitcase.
“Almost,” I said, forcing a smile. “Just thinking about how nice it will be to get away for a bit. We both need this.”
He smiled back. “Yeah, we really do.”
We were about to leave for a week-long vacation. A rare escape from our everyday lives.
A closeup of a person putting a passport in a black bag | Source: Pexels
It was the first time we’d been away for this long in years, and we’d trusted Stan with our house. Just a simple favor: feed the cat, water the plants, and check the mail. I wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea, but Ethan insisted.
“Stan will be fine,” he’d said a few days ago, sensing my hesitation. “It’s not a big deal. He can handle it.”
I had my doubts, but what could go wrong in a week?
But when we pulled into the driveway seven days later, my stomach dropped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
The front door was slightly ajar, and there were cans, bottles, and trash littering the porch.
“Ethan…” I whispered, gripping his arm. “What happened?”
His face darkened. Without a word, he pushed open the door, and we stepped inside. The air smelled sour: a mix of stale beer, smoke, and something burnt. I blinked, trying to make sense of the scene in front of me.
The living room was unrecognizable. Furniture was overturned, broken glass crunched beneath our feet, and dirty dishes were scattered everywhere.
An extremely messed up living room | Source: Midjourney
The walls? They were smeared with what looked like food: pizza sauce, mustard, and who knows what else.
“What the hell?” Ethan’s voice trailed off as he moved further into the house. “Stan! What did you do?”
I followed him into the kitchen, and that’s when I saw it — the blackened stove, the melted cabinets. Something had exploded. There was no doubt about it.
“First of all, congrats on getting a new house.”
“Ethan,” I gasped, “this is insane!”
He ran his hands through his hair, pacing back and forth. “How could he do this? He was supposed to just watch the house, not throw a frat party!”
A closeup shot of an angry man | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed my phone, fingers trembling as I dialed Stan’s number. It went straight to voicemail. I called again. Nothing.
“Stan!” Ethan yelled into the void. “Answer your freakin’ phone!”
Panic bubbled inside me as I watched Ethan try to piece together what had happened. We had trusted him. “We need answers,” I muttered, pulling up my mother-in-law’s number.
She picked up on the second ring. “Aubrey, honey, how was your trip?” she asked, her voice calm and sweet, oblivious to the storm brewing on our end.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
“Celeste,” I interrupted, “do you know where Stan is? We just got home, and the house… it’s destroyed!”
I could feel my heart racing as I clutched the phone, waiting for Celeste to explain what on earth had happened to Stan. My mind was running wild with scenarios, but nothing could have prepared me for her next words.
“Oh, you don’t know?” Celeste said, her voice far too calm for the situation. “First of all, congrats on getting a new house, and second, you won’t be seeing Stan for a while because, well, he’s unavailable.”
A middle-aged woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Unavailable?” I repeated, not quite understanding. “What do you mean?”
There was a pause before she continued, almost as if she was gathering her thoughts or maybe trying to sugarcoat what she was about to drop on me.
“After one of his infamous parties,” she said, her tone a blend of exasperation and something that almost sounded like relief, “Stan forgot to turn off the gas in your kitchen. It caused a small explosion.”
I felt like the floor had been ripped out from beneath me. “An explosion?! Celeste, our kitchen is destroyed!”
An extremely messed up kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“I know, sweetheart, I know.” She sighed as if talking about a stubborn child who had made yet another mess.
“Your father-in-law found Stan drunk and out of his mind in your house. The explosion wasn’t big, but it scared him enough to finally take action. Stan’s been, let’s just say his days of playing executive are over. Howard’s had enough.”
I pressed the phone harder to my ear, my blood boiling. “What do you mean ‘had enough?’ What exactly did Howard do?”
An angry and stunned woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Celeste didn’t hesitate this time. “Howard demoted him. Stan’s not going to be his right-hand man anymore. He’s going to be a truck driver for the company. Howard’s sending him on a month-long haul. It’s supposed to teach him some responsibility.”
I blinked, speechless. Ethan stood frozen in the kitchen doorway, staring at me with wide eyes, waiting for me to explain what his mother had just said. “Wait, wait,” I stammered. “He’s sending Stan on a cross-country trip? Driving trucks?”
A closeup shot of a man driving a truck | Source: Midjourney
“Yes,” Celeste replied, and I could hear a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “It’s about time someone put him in his place. I guess that explosion was the final straw.”
Ethan took a step closer, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “What is she saying?”
I covered the mouthpiece for a second. “Stan’s been demoted to a truck driver,” I whispered, still processing the words myself.
“What?” Ethan’s jaw dropped, his face a combination of shock and anger. “That’s unbelievable.”
A furious man | Source: Midjourney
But Celeste wasn’t done. “Oh, and there’s one more thing, dear. Your father-in-law was planning to buy Stan a new house, you know, something extravagant, as a reward for his work. But after all this mess, he’s decided it’s yours instead. Howard said you two deserve it more.”
I nearly dropped the phone. “What?”
“You heard me right,” Celeste said, her tone softening. “It’s yours. The papers will be sorted out soon. Congratulations, Aubrey.”
A white and gray wooden house | Source: Pexels
I stood there in stunned silence, my hand shaking as I gripped the phone. Ethan looked at me, confusion and hope battling on his face. “What did she say?”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “The house, the one Howard was going to give to Stan, is ours now.”
Ethan’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?”
A man looks a little startled while talking to someone | Source: Midjourney
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, she said we’re getting the house. Karma, I guess.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. The reality of what had just happened was sinking in.
Stan had trashed our house, left it in ruins, caused an explosion, but somehow, we had come out of it better off. It didn’t make sense, but I wasn’t about to question it.
Ethan finally let out a breath he’d been holding and leaned against the counter. “I can’t believe this. I mean, it’s what he deserves, but I didn’t expect this.”
A depressed and lonely man | Source: Midjourney
“Neither did I.” I shook my head, my mind racing. “I was so angry at him, Ethan. I still am. But this is bigger than that. He’s been living this reckless life for years, and now he has to face the consequences.”
Ethan nodded slowly, the tension in his shoulders starting to ease. “He does. But I still don’t know how we’re supposed to clean this up.” He gestured to the wreckage around us.
I laughed, despite everything, a little hysterical. “Well, at least we have a new house to look forward to.”
A woman laughs hysterically | Source: Midjourney
Ethan cracked a small smile, finally. “Yeah. A new house.” He shook his head in disbelief. “I guess we should call Dad and thank him, huh?”
I exhaled slowly. “Yeah. But first, I think I need to sit down.”
We both collapsed onto the one piece of furniture that wasn’t broken: a chair in the corner. For a minute, we just sat there, surrounded by the mess Stan had made, trying to wrap our heads around what had just unfolded.
Ethan reached over and squeezed my hand. “I guess karma’s got a way of working things out.”
A man smiling faintly | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah,” I said quietly, staring at the chaos around us. “It really does.”
As the shock wore off, I realized that while Stan had wrecked our home, he hadn’t destroyed us. If anything, we were walking away with more than we ever expected. A new house. A fresh start.
And maybe, just maybe, this was the wake-up call Stan needed too.
“Let’s just hope he learns from this,” Ethan muttered.
I nodded, though I wasn’t holding my breath. “We’ll see.”
A loving couple | Source: Midjourney
Do you think karma worked its magic here? Let’s hear your take!
While you’re busy contemplating your response, check out another exciting story: Returning from a blissful Hawaiian vacation, Lisa and her two young children were shocked to find an unwelcome guest comfortably settled in their home. Faced with an uncooperative squatter and little help from the police, Lisa was forced to take drastic measures to reclaim her family’s sanctuary.
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.
My Husband Created a New Schedule for Me to ‘Become a Better Wife’ — I Taught Him a Good Lesson in Response
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.
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