MY HUSBAND KICKED ME OUT OF OUR BEDROOM FOR HIS MOM—SO I MADE SURE IT WAS THE LAST TIME
I came home from work, stepped into our bedroom to grab a sweater—and stopped cold.
There she was. My mother-in-law.
Happily unpacking her suitcase… while dumping my clothes onto the floor like yesterday’s trash.
Dresses crumpled in the corner.
Shoes shoved into laundry baskets.
Her clothes neatly hung up, like she’d owned the place forever.
She looked up with a smile.
“Oh, good! Be a dear and move your things to the guest room. There’s barely any space with all of mine.”
I blinked. Surely, she was joking.
Then Jake walked in, lugging her extra suitcase like a hotel bellhop.
I turned to him. “Tell me this is a joke.”
He shrugged. “It’s just for a week. Mom had a long flight, she needs to rest. No big deal.”
And from my bed, MIL chimed in, “Honestly, dear, it’s the least you could do. Family takes care of family.”
Funny how family only mattered when I was the one being shoved aside.
I looked at my clothes scattered on the floor, at the two of them acting like this was perfectly normal. If they thought I was just going to roll over and take it, they had another thing coming.
I didn’t argue. I didn’t yell.
I simply smiled.
Then, I walked into the guest room.
But not to stay there.
Instead, I grabbed my suitcase.
If they wanted to treat me like a guest in my own home, I’d give them exactly what they asked for.
Except I wasn’t the one leaving.
I packed a small bag, grabbed my essentials, and headed for the door.
Jake frowned. “Where are you going?”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, just giving your mom some space.”
MIL smirked, lounging on my bed. “Good girl. No need to make a fuss.”
I nodded. “Absolutely. No fuss.”
Then, I walked out.
Checked into a beautiful hotel. Ordered room service. Took a long, luxurious bath. And most importantly—enjoyed the peace of being respected.
Then, I made a few calls.
To a locksmith.
To a lawyer.
And to a moving company.
Because I was done.
The next day, I came back.
Jake and his mother were in the kitchen when I strolled in.
His eyebrows lifted. “Oh, you’re back already?”
I set a fresh set of keys on the counter.
“Not for long.”
His face dropped. “Wait—what does that mean?”
MIL’s fork clattered onto her plate. “WHAT?!”
I stayed calm. “You wanted my bed? Fine. Keep it. Keep the whole house, actually.” I turned to Jake. “Because I’m leaving. And I’m taking my name off the lease.”
His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. “You’re—you’re overreacting! It was just a week—”
I laughed. “Oh, Jake. This isn’t about a week. This is about every single time you’ve put her before me. Every boundary you refused to set. Every moment you let your mother treat me like I didn’t belong in my own home.”
MIL scoffed. “You’re being dramatic.”
I turned to her, my voice like ice.
“Oh, you haven’t seen dramatic yet.”
Right on cue, a moving truck pulled up outside.
Jake’s face drained of color. “No. You—you’re not serious.”
I picked up my bag, smiled, and walked out.
Because they could keep the house.
But they’d just lost me.
