When an entitled mother-in-law sabotages her step-granddaughter’s first big vacation in the pettiest way imaginable, Awe chooses calm over chaos. But as karma begins to spin its own perfect revenge, Awe realizes some battles don’t need to be fought at all; the universe already has her back, and it swings harder than she ever could.
I’ve always been careful about who I let into my heart. After my divorce, I promised myself I would never again hand it over blindly, not even to someone who came with a wedding ring and the sweetest promises of forever.
So when I met Thuric, I didn’t fall head over heels. I let him earn his place; slowly, steadily, with me and with Cery, my little girl from my first marriage.
Cery, the child who has my eyes, my laugh, and the fiercest, most unbreakable spirit I’ve ever known.
The most beautiful thing about Thuric?
He never once hesitated. He walked straight into our lives like he had always belonged there, like we had never been incomplete. He loves Cery exactly as his own; always has, always will. A scraped knee? He’s the first one kneeling with a band-aid. A nightmare in the middle of the night? He’s at her door before I even hear her cry.
To Thuric, she is simply his daughter. Full stop. No footnotes.
To his mother, Briseis? That’s an entirely different story.
Briseis; picture perfectly knotted pearls and smiles that never quite reach the eyes. She never had to say the cruel words out loud. She showed them. She’d buy exactly two cupcakes when there were three of us. She’d pat Cery’s curls the same way someone reluctantly pets a neighbor’s slightly annoying dog.
And the little comments she did let slip?
“Funny, she really doesn’t look anything like you, Awe. Must take after her father.”
Or the one that still stings every time I remember it:
“Maybe it’s better you two waited to start a real family, Thuric. Instead of… this.”
I swallowed every single one of them, biting my tongue so hard I’m shocked it didn’t bleed. I kept the peace for Thuric’s sake, for Cery’s sake. But inside, I was always watching, always counting, always waiting.
Still, I never believed Briseis would actually go this far. Not like this.
A few months ago, Thuric surprised us with the trip of a lifetime to the Canary Islands; beachfront resort, all-inclusive, every single detail planned to perfection. He had just received a huge work bonus and wanted to give us something unforgettable.
“Cery has never been on a plane,” he said, eyes shining with happy tears. “Her very first flight has to be pure magic, Awe. She deserves absolutely everything good in this world.”
We were all walking on air.
Then life did what life does best; it threw a wrench right into the middle of our dream.
One week before we were supposed to leave, Thuric was suddenly called to Europe for an urgent work emergency. He looked like someone had punched him in the stomach.
“You two still go,” he said, gently brushing Cery’s curls from her face. “Mom and Selah can help with the airport. I’ll join you the second I can.”
Selah is Thuric’s younger sister; sweet when she feels like it, and completely convinced she’s destined for musical stardom despite being delightfully tone-deaf.
Cery wrapped her little arms and legs around his leg like a baby koala and refused to let go. It took ten full minutes, endless hugs, and half a bag of gummy bears to finally get her into the car seat.
“I want Daddy to come with us…” she whispered, lower lip trembling.
“I know, sweetheart,” I whispered back. “I want that too. But Daddy might still surprise us, so we have to keep the adventure ready for him, okay?”
She finally gave me a tiny, brave nod and clutched her boarding pass like it was the most precious thing she owned.
And that’s exactly how I ended up driving a rental car at sunrise; Cery humming happily in the back with her pink neck pillow, Briseis sitting in the passenger seat wearing a smile I didn’t trust for a second, and Selah singing wildly off-key to whatever was on the radio.
Halfway to the airport, Briseis broke the silence.
“Would you mind rolling the windows down a little? It’s getting stuffy in here.”
I cracked mine an inch. I liked the air-conditioning, but Briseis always complained it dried out her skin.
“Much better,” she sighed, then turned around to Cery with that syrupy-sweet voice she only used when she wanted something.
“Sweetheart, let Grandma see your ticket for just a second? I only want to double-check the gate number.”
Cery looked at me for permission. I gave her a small nod.
She carefully handed it over.
Briseis took the boarding pass between two perfectly manicured fingers, studied it for a moment, and a tiny, satisfied smile curved her lips; a smile meant only for herself.
Then, with one deliberate flick of her wrist, she let it go.
A flutter of paper, a rush of highway wind, and Cery’s ticket soared out the open window like a bird that had finally been set free.
“My ticket!” Cery screamed from the backseat.
“Well,” Briseis said, calm and smooth as silk, “isn’t that just a cruel twist of fate?”
She turned to me and smiled; really smiled; like she had finally, undeniably won.
I slammed on the brakes so hard the car jerked. Selah let out a startled yelp.
Briseis kept talking, light and casual, as if she were commenting on the weather.
“I suppose fate simply didn’t want the two of you to go after all.”
I stared at her; really stared; and in that moment I saw everything. The cold satisfaction glittering in her eyes. That ticket hadn’t slipped.
It had been thrown.
Rage roared up inside me so fierce I could feel it burning the back of my throat, but I forced myself to breathe; slow, deep, steady.
“You know what?” I said, my voice coming out soft and sweet and deadly calm. “Maybe you’re absolutely right. Fate does have a funny way of working.”
I glanced at Selah in the rear-view mirror. She looked frozen, eyes wide, not daring to speak.
I checked my blind spot, signaled, and turned the car around.
“What on earth are you doing?” Briseis asked, her smile slipping for the first time.
“Returning the rental,” I answered pleasantly. “It’s in my name. I don’t want any unexpected charges.”
I looked back at Cery and softened instantly. “Hey, lovebug, how about we go get those dinosaur pancakes instead? Just you and me; a secret mommy-daughter adventure?”
“With extra whipped cream?” she asked, eyes still shiny with tears.
“Buckets of it, baby.”
Her little face lit up like the sun had just come out from behind the clouds.
And just like that, the day was ours again.
The next few days turned into the sweetest kind of magic; the quiet, homemade kind that no resort could ever match. Dinosaur pancakes every morning. Hours staring at glowing jellyfish at the aquarium, her tiny hand curled tightly in mine. Blanket forts so big we got lost inside them. Glitter nail polish that ended up everywhere; on the couch, on the dog, on my pillowcase weeks later; and I smiled every single time I saw it.
We didn’t need the Canary Islands.
We already had everything we needed right there.
I let Thuric believe we were sipping mocktails on the beach for the first couple of days.
Then I sent him a selfie; Cery and me in fluffy matching robes, faces covered in sparkly sticker stars.
“Didn’t happen,” I wrote. “Ask your mother why. We’re perfect anyway.”
He called five minutes later, voice tight with barely-contained fury.
When I told him everything; the open window, the deliberate flick, the triumphant smile; there was only stunned silence on the line.
Then, very quietly: “She did it on purpose.”
Karma, however, didn’t need telling twice.
Two days into what was supposed to be Briseis and Selah’s luxurious layover, Selah rang me practically wheezing with laughter.
“Mom fell; flat on her back in the middle of a market. Sprained wrist, shattered phone screen, and the best part; her passport vanished into thin air. They’re stuck. In a dingy little motel that smells like old socks and serves rubber eggs. All their luggage got rerouted to Lisbon.”
Five extra days of embassy nightmares, questionable plumbing, and absolutely no escape.
I didn’t laugh out loud.
I just smiled into my coffee until my cheeks hurt.
Three weeks later, halfway through the most peaceful Saturday brunch we’d had in years, the front door opened without a knock.
Briseis walked in like nothing had ever happened; bandaged wrist, dark circles under her eyes, dragging a reluctant Selah behind her.
Thuric stood up slowly.
“You’re not welcome here,” he said, voice low and final.
Her smile faltered. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” he answered. “Not until you apologize to my wife and my daughter; and actually mean it. Until then, you stay away. I’m choosing them.”
The silence that followed was heavy enough to crush bones.
She stood up so fast her chair scraped the floor like a scream.
“You would choose them over your own mother?”
“I’m choosing my family,” he said simply. “Do better, or stay gone.”
She walked out without slamming the door; slamming would have meant she still believed she had power here.
She didn’t.
And ever since that day?
Nothing.
No Sunday phone calls. No backhanded comments. No more frost-bitten smiles.
Just the deepest, sweetest, most glorious silence we have ever known.
Some revenge you have to hunt down yourself.
Some revenge simply strolls in late, trips over its own arrogance, loses everything, and limps home humiliated.
The universe didn’t need my help.
It handled Briseis perfectly.
And honestly?
Watching it unfold was the most satisfying thing I’ve ever witnessed.