I always knew my mother-in-law, Linda, didn’t like me, but I never thought she would go this far. When she offered to take my laundry home while I was recovering from an illness, I thought she was trying to be helpful. I had no idea she had other plans for my clothes.
From the moment I married David, Linda made it very clear that I wasn’t the daughter-in-law she wanted for her son. She criticized everything I did—how I cooked, how I folded laundry, even how I raised my boys.
“You’re not feeding them enough protein,” she would say while peering into my fridge with a disapproving frown.
Or, “David never liked his shirts folded this way. I taught him better than this.”
And my personal favorite, “You should dress the boys in something more presentable. You never know who’s watching.”
She had an opinion on everything, and it was exhausting. But instead of arguing, I decided to keep my distance. I stopped engaging with her as much as possible, keeping our interactions polite but minimal.
The best part? David completely supported me.
“You don’t have to force a relationship with her,” he told me one evening as we cleaned up after dinner. “I know she can be a lot. I’ll handle her.”
And he did. He called her regularly, visited her, sent her gifts—everything a loving son would do. I never interfered in their bond, because just because she didn’t like me didn’t mean I wanted to come between them. But Linda noticed my absence.
“Why don’t you come over with David anymore?” she would ask.
“You used to call me more often,” she’d text randomly.
It almost felt like she missed criticizing me.
Annoying, sure. But I let it slide. As long as she wasn’t causing real trouble, I could handle her occasional nosiness.
Then, two weeks before Valentine’s Day, I woke up feeling awful. Fever, chills, body aches—it hit me hard. And as soon as I started feeling a little better, both Nathan and Lucas caught it too.
It wasn’t serious, just one of those relentless viruses that leaves you feeling completely drained. By the time we were all on the mend, I felt like I had been run over by a truck. The house was a disaster. Laundry piled up, dishes sat in the sink longer than they should have—it was pure chaos.
Once we were finally feeling better, I decided to do something nice. I invited my sister and my parents over for lunch. The boys hadn’t seen them in a while, and I figured it would be good for all of us. I didn’t tell Linda because, well, why would I?
But somehow, she found out.
At exactly 1:30 p.m., the doorbell rang.
When I opened the door, Linda stepped in with a big smile.
“I heard you weren’t feeling well, dear,” she said sweetly. “I thought I’d stop by to help.”
Help? Linda?
She had never “helped” in all the years I had known her. She only gave unwanted advice and judgmental looks. I glanced at David, who was standing near the couch, looking just as surprised as I felt.
“Oh… that’s nice of you,” I said cautiously.
Linda smiled wider. Too wide. Something was off.
“How are the boys?” she asked, ruffling Nathan’s hair. “Oh, my poor babies, you must’ve had a rough time.”
Nathan giggled, and Lucas reached for her. She cooed over them for a moment before turning to me.
“And you, sweetheart? You look so pale. You shouldn’t be up and about already.”
Was she… being nice? What was going on?
“I’m fine,” I said slowly, still watching her carefully. “Just tired.”
“Well, of course you are!” She glanced around and spotted the overflowing laundry baskets in the corner. “Oh, Evelyn. You shouldn’t have to deal with all this in your condition.”
Then she turned to David. “Why don’t I take some of this home with me? I’ll wash it and bring it back fresh and folded.”
I stiffened. Since when did Linda offer to do favors?
“That’s really not necessary,” I said quickly. “I can handle it this weekend.”
But Linda waved me off. “Oh, nonsense. It’s no trouble at all. I’d be happy to help.”
Linda? Happy to help? Something wasn’t right. But before I could come up with an excuse, David spoke up.
“That’d be great, Mom. Thanks.”
I shot him a look. Seriously?
“See?” Linda turned to me with a triumphant smile. “It’s settled. I’ll take care of everything.”
Before I could protest, she grabbed a laundry basket and hauled it toward the door. David even helped her load it into her trunk.
I stood there, uneasy. But what could I say? She was doing something nice… right?
Two days passed, and I had almost forgotten about the laundry situation until David walked into the kitchen, holding up his phone with a baffled expression.
“You’re not going to believe this,” he said.
I took his phone and read the text from Linda:
David, I can’t believe what your wife did. I’ve been sick all night—fever, chills, the worst headache! And you know why? Because Evelyn didn’t bother to tell me she was contagious when she gave me her filthy clothes!
I tried on a few things before washing them, just to see if I wanted to keep them. And now I’M SICK! I can’t believe how irresponsible she is! She should have warned me!
My mouth fell open. “She… tried on my clothes?”
David nodded grimly.
“My dirty, sick clothes?”
“Yep.”
I nearly gagged. “That’s disgusting!”
Before I could even react, another message buzzed through.
Medical expenses are not cheap, you know. Since your little stunt got me sick, I think it’s only fair you cover my treatment. I’ll be mailing you the bill. Don’t think you can ignore this!
“Okay, she’s lost it,” I said, shaking my head.
David sighed. “I’m calling her.”
He put her on speaker, and she picked up immediately.
“Did you read my message? I hope you understand how serious this is!”
David’s voice was firm. “Mom, let me get this straight. You took dirty clothes, tried them on, got sick, and now you want Evelyn to pay for your treatment?”
“She should have warned me!” Linda snapped.
“No, Mom. You were careless. You offered to wash the clothes, not wear them. That was YOUR decision.”
Silence. Then, she muttered, “Some of those clothes were actually nice.”
“Excuse me?” I blurted out. “What does that mean?”
David sighed. “Mom, return whatever you took. And stop texting Evelyn about this, or I won’t be calling or visiting anytime soon.”
Beep. She had hung up.
A few days later, a package arrived. Inside were my clothes—ruined. Everything had been turned a weird shade of pink.
I stared at them, too tired to even be angry. “Guess I should’ve expected that.”
David peered over my shoulder. “You’re not actually going to wear those again, right?”
“Are you kidding? After where they’ve been? Burn pile.”
David chuckled. “Well, at least we learned something from all this.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
He grinned. “If your mom offers to do laundry, say yes. If mine offers? Run.”
I burst out laughing. “Deal.”
