My mother-in-law ruined my final exam by tampering with my alarm, justifying it by saying I needed to “get my priorities straight.” She made me miss the most important test of my career. But as they say, karma has a way of coming full circle—and she had no idea what was coming.
A year ago, I married Roger, and I thought I had it all. A loving husband, a promising future ahead, and a nursing degree I was so close to finishing. I was in my final year at Millfield University, on track to become a pediatric nurse. The program had cost me more than many people earn in two years, and every single exam was crucial.
My final exams were scheduled over three long weeks. These weren’t just regular tests—they were the foundation of my career, my nursing license, and my ability to pay off my overwhelming student loans.
Of course, that’s when my mother-in-law, Lydia, decided to drop in for an extended visit.
“Surprise!” she said, standing at the door with enough luggage for a month. “I thought I’d spend some quality time with my favorite newlyweds.”
Roger was ecstatic. “Mom! This is awesome! Amelia, isn’t this great?”
I plastered on a smile, even though my stomach sank. My finals were in four days, and all I wanted to do was bury myself in textbooks.
“Of course it’s great,” I said, forcing a hug. “How long are you staying?”
“Until after the holidays—about three weeks or so.”
Three weeks. During my finals.
“Well, we’re so happy to have you,” I said, looking at Roger.
The demands started immediately. Lydia planned big dinners, shopping trips, and visits to family members, all while guilt-tripping me to join in.
“Amelia, sweetheart, can you spare an afternoon to visit Aunt Martha? She’s been asking about you.”
“I’m sorry, Lydia, I really need to study today. Maybe after the exams?”
Her smile turned cold. “I see. Well, I suppose your books are more important than family.”
Roger was away on business most of the time, leaving me to navigate his mother’s passive-aggressive digs. Every time I declined an invitation, she acted as if I was selfish, as if studying was a betrayal of the family.
The tension in our small apartment grew unbearable. I tried explaining how important the exams were, but Lydia just waved me off.
“Oh, sweetie, you’re so young. You don’t understand what really matters yet.”
By the end of the first week, I was a wreck. Sleep-deprived, stressed about my studies, and constantly walking on eggshells around Lydia, who seemed to take pleasure in making me miserable.
Then, one evening, she cornered me in the kitchen.
“Honestly, why are you wasting your time with all this university nonsense?” Lydia said. “You’re a wife now. Soon you’ll be a mother. You should focus on giving my son a family, not chasing these pointless degrees.”
Her words hit me hard. I set my coffee mug down carefully, trying to keep my hands from shaking.
“With all due respect, this degree is not pointless. It’s my future.”
Lydia stepped closer, giving me that condescending smile I’d come to despise. “Your future is my son. You’ll understand when you grow up and stop being so selfish.”
“I’m not being selfish for wanting a career. Roger supports my dreams.”
“Roger is too kind to tell you the truth. Men want wives who care about family, not women obsessed with their little hobbies.”
She called my career—a passion I’d spent years working for—a hobby.
I walked away before I said something I would regret, but her words lingered for days. The worst part? Roger wasn’t there to defend me.
“Just ignore her,” he said when I vented. “You know how she is. She means well.”
Yeah, right.
Three weeks into her visit, and my biggest exam was the next morning. That’s when Lydia decided to throw herself a 60th birthday party.
“I’ve invited everyone over for dinner tomorrow night. It’ll be wonderful!” she announced.
I blinked in disbelief. “Tomorrow? But Lydia, your birthday was three weeks ago. I gave you that knitting set, remember?”
“I know, but I want to celebrate properly now that I’m with family.”
She knew exactly what she was doing.
“Can we do it the day after? This test is my final one, and it could determine my entire grade.”
Lydia’s face twisted into a mock pout. “Oh, poor little student with all her excuses. Fine, don’t come. But don’t think I’ll forget this insult.”
She stormed out, leaving me standing there, heart racing. I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t expect her to go this far.
The next morning, I woke up to sunlight streaming through my window and a traffic noise that sounded far too heavy for early morning. My phone read 9:30 a.m.
“No, no, no,” I whispered, scrambling out of bed. I checked my alarm. Someone had changed it from 6:30 to 9:30.
I raced to the living room, where Lydia was sipping her coffee, wearing a smug smile.
“Did you touch my alarm?” I asked, my voice shaky.
Lydia looked up slowly, savoring the moment. “I told you yesterday that you had time for my dinner. Now I’ve taken my time back.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Are you kidding me right now?”
“Lower your voice, young lady. I won’t be spoken to like that in my son’s house.”
I grabbed my keys and ran to campus, praying I’d make it in time. The drive should’ve taken 40 minutes, but I made it in 25—speeding through red lights, praying I wouldn’t crash. When I burst into the exam 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,” he said. “You’ll need to speak with the academic office.”
After hours of paperwork, calls, and begging, they agreed to let me take a makeup exam the following week.
But the stress had taken its toll—I was exhausted, with dark circles under my eyes, and I’d lost weight from all the studying.
When I got home, Lydia was still in the kitchen.
“Well, that was quite a show this morning,” she said, barely looking up from her magazine.
“You could’ve ruined my future,” I said, voice tight with anger.
“Oh, please. It’s just one test. It won’t matter in five years when you’re busy with babies.”
That’s when I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I played the perfect daughter-in-law for the next two days. Helped with her laundry, cooked her favorite meals, and listened to her endless stories about Roger. She thought she had won.
Then, on the night before her flight home, Lydia announced she’d be going to bed early.
“I need to be up at 3:00 for my 5:00 flight. Don’t disturb me,” she said.
“Of course not,” I replied sweetly.
At 11:30 p.m., when I was sure she was asleep, I went to work. I reset every clock in the house—her phone, the microwave, the cable box, and even the alarm clock in the guest room. I set everything forward by three hours.
At midnight, her alarm went off, blaring loudly.
The panic in her voice when she called for a taxi was sweet 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 out the door, racing through the cold December night to catch a flight that wouldn’t leave for another four hours.
At 1:15 a.m., my phone started buzzing with angry messages from her.
“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 soundly, knowing what was coming.
The next morning, after a restful night’s sleep, I responded.
“Oh no! I thought you liked surprises! You know, after how you ‘helped’ me get to my exam early.”
The silence that followed was golden.
Roger called later, confused. “Mom said something happened 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 future or anything!”
Since then, Lydia hasn’t said a word about my career, my priorities, or my place in the family. When she calls, she’s polite, almost respectful. It’s funny how a taste of her own medicine works better than any conversation.
I passed my makeup exam with flying colors, graduated summa cum laude, and now work at a children’s hospital, saving lives and loving every minute.
Some lessons come from the most unexpected teachers. Lydia taught me that some people only understand consequences, not explanations. And standing up for myself didn’t make me selfish—it made me strong.
Most importantly, she taught me that karma doesn’t always work on its own. Sometimes, you have to nudge it. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.