When Tess joined her husband’s family vacation, she expected sandy toes, salty breezes, and long, lazy mornings. What she got instead was a laminated chore chart.
She should have seen the warning signs the moment Diane, her mother-in-law, patted her arm with that too-sweet smile and handed her the sheet.
“Tess, honey, I made this to keep things running smoothly.”
At first, Tess smiled, thinking it was something useful—maybe the Wi-Fi password or a list of fun local spots. But no. It was a full-blown schedule of household tasks. Color-coded. Assigned by day. Responsibilities neatly divided.
Well, almost.
Her name was everywhere.
“Meal prep, dinner planning, clean-up, grocery coordination (there’s a local supermarket), laundry, and ironing.”
As for Diane? One single entry: “Help with sunscreen application (for grandkids only).”
Lisa, Matt’s sister, had one responsibility: “Organize massages and hair treatments at the spa.”
Audrey, the other sister? “Call cleaning services for a deep bathroom cleaning.”
Tess blinked at the sheet. “So I’m… doing dinner every night?”
“Oh no, not every night!” Diane laughed. “We’re eating out on Tuesday. There’s a lovely seafood place I know Matt will love. You get that night off!”
Tess turned to her husband, expecting him to laugh, shake his head, say something like, “Mom, seriously? Tess and I are here to relax, too.”
But instead, Matt rubbed her back and said, “They’re just trying to make it fair, babe.”
Fair. Right.
That night, lying in bed, Tess stared at the slow-turning ceiling fan. Matt was already asleep beside her, arm heavy across her waist. But it didn’t feel comforting. It felt like a weight.
She had been so excited about this trip. She had bought a new swimsuit. Imagined lazy breakfasts, afternoon naps, sunset walks with Matt. Their first vacation as a married couple.
Instead, she was the unpaid help.
The next morning, she played along. She made a full breakfast—scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, golden pancakes, fresh fruit salad, even mushy bananas for Audrey’s baby, Ethan.
She rinsed toys. Packed the coolers. Wiped down the counters. Diane gave her a cheerful thumbs up as she strolled outside, sunhat in one hand, novel in the other.
Through the window, Tess watched them all. Lisa posing for photos in her red bikini. Audrey giggling through a foot massage. Diane adjusting her umbrella for the perfect amount of sun. Matt already sipping something fruity and cold.
They hadn’t invited her to be part of the family vacation. They’d invited her to serve them.
“Sneaky fools,” she muttered, stabbing a piece of watermelon with her fork. “You have no idea what’s coming.”
That night, as she washed silverware, Matt came up behind her and kissed her temple. “Thanks for today. You were amazing.”
She said nothing. If she spoke, she might cry. And she refused to cry over dishwater.
So she made a plan.
The next morning, before the sun had fully risen, she packed. Not everything—just what she needed. She left the laminated chart on the counter, but she made some adjustments.
Diane’s Tuesday night? Now “Taco Duty.”
Matt? On dish duty. Three times.
And underneath it all, a note:
“Thanks for the vacation! I’ve adjusted the roster so it’s fair for everyone. Check the fridge for the schedule. I’ll be back for mini-golf with the kids on Thursday. Text me if you’d like to do dinner… as equals, of course.”
Then she walked out the door.
The resort had private beachfront suites—luxurious, quiet, made for couples who wanted to relax. Tess had seen them in the brochure. And she booked one, using the money she had saved for Matt’s anniversary gift.
Did he really need a designer watch?
After the last two days? Nope.
Her new suite had an ocean view. Fluffy robes. And best of all? A breakfast buffet that didn’t ask her to chop melons.
She turned off her phone, stretched out by the pool, and finally cracked open her book.
By the next afternoon, word had spread.
A resort staff member passed by and smirked. “Thought you were with the big house group.”
“I was,” she said. “But they’re not really my vibe.”
“Yeah, that tracks.” He grinned. “Heard someone burned the breakfast. Called in staff to fix it. The blonde lady with the big gold earrings broke the blender. They’re kind of unraveling.”
Tess took a sip of her mimosa, fighting a smile. “Well, well.”
By Day Three, Matt showed up.
Sunburned. Exhausted. Holding his baseball cap like a nervous schoolboy.
“Tess,” he said, “the things I had to bribe the staff with to find you. Can we talk?”
She gestured to the lounge chair beside her. He sat, staring at the water for a long moment.
“I didn’t realize how much they were leaning on you.”
“You didn’t want to see it.”
He sighed. “You’re right.”
She took another sip. “You didn’t even question it. Your mom hands me a chore chart, and you call it fair.”
“I thought you’d speak up if you had a problem.”
She really looked at him then. “That’s the point, Matt. I shouldn’t have to. That’s what you’re supposed to do. As my husband.”
He stared at his hands. “I’m sorry.”
The silence stretched. Finally, he looked up. “Can I stay with you?”
She tilted her head. “Are you ready to be on my team?”
His eyes were tired. Honest. “Yes.”
She handed him her extra key card. And he stayed.
For the rest of the trip, they were just Tess and Matt again. No chores. No schedules. Just them, being a couple.
They woke up late, balcony door cracked open to the sound of waves. No alarms. No expectations. No one waiting for breakfast.
They had drinks at the swim-up bar. Played guessing games about the other couples. Teased each other over snack preferences. He rubbed sunscreen into her shoulders before she even had to ask. He kissed her neck when she got quiet.
And she laughed. Really laughed. Not polite chuckles, but deep, belly laughs she had been holding in too long.
By the time they returned to the main house on departure day, Diane barely looked at her. Just sipped iced tea under her visor.
But at checkout, she finally spoke.
“Well, Tess,” she said, voice brittle, “I suppose you needed some space.”
Tess met her gaze. “No. I needed respect.”
Diane blinked, as if the word was foreign.
Tess didn’t elaborate. She let her sit with it.
It’s been a year since that trip. No more chore charts. No more laminated schedules. Now, when an invite comes, Matt asks her first. He checks in.
And if she says no?
They don’t go.
