My mother-in-law sabotaged my final exam by changing my alarm, claiming I needed to “learn my priorities.” She cost me the most important test of my career. But karma has a funny way of coming full circle, and she had no idea what was waiting for her.
I married Roger a year ago, and honestly, I thought I’d won the lottery. I had a sweet husband and a bright future ahead of me. I was in my final year at Millfield University, studying to become a pediatric nurse, when this happened. This program cost more than what most people make in two years, and every exam mattered.
My final exams were scheduled for three grueling weeks. These weren’t just any tests. They determined everything about my future career, my license, and my ability to pay back the student loans that kept me awake at night.
That’s exactly when my mother-in-law Lydia decided to surprise us with an extended visit.
“Surprise!” she announced, standing in our doorway with enough luggage for a month-long stay. “I thought I’d spend some quality time with my favorite newlyweds.”
Roger lit up like Christmas morning. “Mom! This is amazing. Amelia, isn’t this great?”
I forced my biggest smile even though my stomach dropped. My final exams were set to start in four days, and I had planned to spend every waking moment buried in my textbooks.
“Of course it’s great,” I said, hugging her tight. “How long are you staying?”
“Oh, just until after the holidays. Three weeks or so.”
Three weeks. During the most important exams of my life.
“Well, we’re thrilled to have you here, aren’t we, honey?”
I looked at my husband and nodded.
The demands started immediately. Lydia had planned elaborate dinners, shopping trips to the fancy mall across town, and visits to every relative within driving distance. Each invitation came with a guilt trip attached.
“Amelia, dear, surely you can spare one afternoon to visit your Aunt Martha. She’s been asking about you constantly.”
“I’m sorry, Lydia, but I really need to study today. Maybe after my exams?”
Her smile turned icy. “I see. Well, I suppose your books are more important than family.”
Roger was traveling for work most of the time, leaving me alone to navigate his mother’s passive-aggressive comments. Every declined invitation became evidence of my selfishness, and every hour spent studying became proof that I didn’t care about the family.
The tension in our small apartment grew thicker by the day. I tried explaining how crucial these exams were, but Lydia would just wave her hand dismissively.
“Oh, sweetie, you’re so young. You don’t understand what really matters yet.”
By the end of the first week, I was barely holding it together. I was sleep-deprived, stressed about studying, and walking on eggshells around my mother-in-law who, seemed determined to make my life miserable.
That’s when she cornered me in the kitchen one evening.
“Honestly, why are you wasting your time with this university nonsense?” Lydia snapped. “You’re a wife now. Soon you’ll be a mother. It’s time you start focusing on giving my son a family instead of chasing pointless degrees.”
The audacity of her words hit me like a slap. I set down my coffee mug carefully, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
“With all due respect, this isn’t pointless. This degree is my future.”
Lydia stepped closer, invading my personal space with that condescending smile I’d grown to hate. “Your future is my son. You’ll understand someday when you grow up and stop being so selfish.”
“I’m not being selfish for wanting a career, Lydia. Roger supports my dreams.”
“Roger is too kind to tell you the truth. Men want wives who prioritize family, not women obsessed with their little hobbies.”
She called my nursing degree—and my life’s passion—a hobby.
I walked away before I said something I’d regret, but her words echoed in my head for days. The worst part? Roger wasn’t there to defend me and tell his mother she was out of line.
“Just ignore her,” he said when I called to vent. “You know how she gets. She means well.”
Means well.Right.
Three weeks into her visit, with my biggest exam looming the next morning, Lydia announced she was throwing herself a 60th birthday celebration.
“I’ve invited everyone over for dinner tomorrow night. It’ll be wonderful!”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Tomorrow? But Lydia, your birthday was three weeks ago. I gave you that knitting set you loved, remember?”
“Well, I want to celebrate properly now that I’m here with family.”
The timing wasn’t a coincidence. She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Please, can we do it the evening after? This test decides my entire final grade.”
Lydia’s face twisted into a mockery of disappointment. “Oh, poor busy little student! You always have excuses, don’t you? Fine, don’t come, but don’t expect me to forget this insult.”
She turned on her heel and marched out of the room, leaving me standing there with my heart pounding. I should have seen it coming. I should have known she wouldn’t let this slide.
But I never imagined how far she’d go.
“I hope you’re proud of yourself for ruining my birthday,” she called from the living room.
I ignored her. Maybe I should’ve been more careful.
My alarm was set for 6:30 sharp. I’d triple-checked it before going to bed, knowing I needed those extra hours to review my notes one final time. The exam started at 9:30, and I planned to be there early, calm and prepared.
Instead, I woke up to sunlight streaming through my bedroom window and the sound of traffic that seemed way too heavy for early morning. My phone showed 9:30 a.m.
“No, no, no, no,” I whispered, jumping out of bed so fast I nearly fell over. My hands shook as I checked my alarm settings. Someone had changed it from 6:30 to 9:30.
I ran to the living room and found Lydia sitting at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee with the most satisfied smile I’d ever seen.
“Did you touch my alarm?” I asked.
Lydia looked up slowly, savoring the moment like fine wine. “I told you yesterday that you had time for my dinner. Now I took my time back.”
The casual cruelty in her voice made my knees weak. She’d sabotaged the most important day of my academic life and was sitting there enjoying her breakfast like nothing had happened.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Lower your voice, young lady. I won’t be spoken to like that in my son’s home.”
I grabbed my keys and ran.
The campus was 40 minutes away in good traffic. I made it in 25 minutes, running red lights and praying to every god I could think of. But when I burst through the doors of the examination hall, the proctor shook his head.
“I’m sorry, but we can’t admit anyone after 9:15. It’s policy.”
“Please, you don’t understand. My alarm was changed. I was sabotaged.”
“I’ve heard every excuse in the book, miss. You’ll need to speak to the academic office about rescheduling.”
The next three hours were a blur of paperwork, phone calls, and begging. Finally, mercifully, they agreed to let me take a makeup exam the following week.
But the stress had taken its toll. I’d lost weight I couldn’t afford to lose while preparing for these exams, and the dark circles under my eyes made me look like I’d been through a war.
When I got home, Lydia was still in the kitchen.
“Well, that was quite a performance this morning,” she said without looking up from her magazine.
“You could have ruined my entire future.”
“Oh, please. Don’t be so dramatic. One little test isn’t going to matter in five years when you have babies to worry about.”
That’s when I made a decision. If Lydia wanted to play games, I’d show her what a real game looked like.
“You know what? You’re probably right,” I said sweetly.
I waited patiently for two more days, playing the perfect daughter-in-law. I helped with her laundry, cooked her favorite meals, and listened to her endless stories about Roger’s childhood. She thought she’d won. Big mistake.
The night before her flight home, Lydia announced she was going to bed early.
“I need to be up at three for my five o’clock flight. Don’t disturb me.”
“Of course not. Sleep well.”
At 11:30, when I was sure she was deep asleep, I got to work. Every clock in the house got reset—her phone, the microwave, the cable box, and even the alarm clock in the guest room. Everything moved forward three hours.
At midnight, her alarm started blaring.
The panic in her voice as she called for a taxi was music to my ears. “Yes, I need to get to the airport immediately. My flight leaves in an hour!”
By 1:00 a.m., she was gone, racing through the cold December night to catch a flight that wouldn’t leave for four more hours.
My phone started buzzing at 1:15 with angry voice messages.
Lydia: “YOU! You did this, didn’t you? I’m sitting here like an idiot in the middle of the night! How dare you!”
I let her texts pile up while I slept peacefully in my bed.
At eight the next morning, well-rested and satisfied, I finally responded to my MIL’s 23 increasingly frantic messages.
“Oh no! I thought you liked surprises! You know, after how you ‘helped’ me be early for my exam.”
The silence that followed was absolutely beautiful.
Roger called later that day, confused. “Mom said there was some kind of mix-up with the clocks?”
“How strange! You know how unreliable these old systems can be, Rog.”
“Yeah, probably. She seemed pretty upset though.”
“I’m sure she’ll get over it. After all, it was just one little inconvenience. Not like it ruined her entire future or anything!”
Since then, Lydia hasn’t said a single word about my studies, my priorities, or my place in the family. When she calls, she’s polite and almost respectful. Amazing how a taste of her own medicine worked better than months of trying to reason with her.
I passed my makeup exam with flying colors and graduated summa cum laude. Now I’m working at the children’s hospital, saving lives and loving every minute of it.
Sometimes the best lessons come from teachers who never intended to teach them. Lydia taught me that some people only understand consequences, not conversations. She taught me that standing up for myself doesn’t make me selfish or disrespectful.
Most importantly, she taught me that karma doesn’t always come naturally. Sometimes you have to give it a little push. And you know what? I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
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