My Husband Wanted Me to Give Up Our Bed for His Mom—Here’s How I Responded

My Husband Told Me to Move Into the Guest Room So His Mom Could Have Our Bed

Phoebe’s mother-in-law doesn’t simply take the guest room when she stays for the week. No, the whole bedroom of Phoebe is taken by her. Jake, her spouse, permits it to occur. She will, however, demonstrate what checking out entails if they wish to treat her like a visitor in her own house.

When Doreen said she would be staying for a week, I was genuinely thrilled.

I was feeling particularly giving, so I laid out new towels, fluffed the pillows in the guest room, and even filled the bathroom with lavender-scented soap.

Finally, I prepared some scones and chocolate and cranberry muffins for her. I was giving it my all.

After all, she was my mother-in-law. I wanted to make her feel at home.

However, I was unaware that she was preparing a hostile takeover.

I thought Doreen would have prepared dinner for us when I got home from work that afternoon. I secretly hoped for her handmade breads and delectable stew.

However, it transpired that she was preparing something else.

I wanted to change into sweatpants and a sweatshirt as soon as I entered my room in the peaceful house.

However, I found Doreen instead of my chamber as I should have.

She was joyfully unpacking her suitcase while standing in the center of my bedroom.

As I throw my garments to the ground!

My gowns? collapsed into a pile.

My footwear? stuffed into baskets for wash.

Her belongings? Like she owned the place, she hung clothes neatly in my closet.

My brain briefly refused to comprehend what I was witnessing.

Not only had this woman taken over the room, but she had completely removed me from it.

“Oh! Excellent. Phoebe, you’re back!” she chirped, hardly looking at me. “Will you be a good wife and take your belongings to the guest room? With all I own, there’s barely room in here.”

Still unable to figure out how we got here, I just stared at her.

Then, like a hotel bellhop, Jake entered with her second suitcase.

He said, “Hey, Pheebs,” as if this were all very commonplace. “Will you please leave the room? Mom needs to sleep. Her flight has been lengthy. For a week, you are welcome to set up in the guest room. You are aware that the guest room bed is too much for my back, so I will remain in my office.”

My spouse was there, addressing me as though I were an intruder. As if he could simply shove me around. Like the mortgage didn’t have my name on it.

“I’m sorry, what?” I blinked. “You were saying?”

Jake let out a long sigh. I seemed to be being challenging.

“Come on, Phoebe, it’s not a big deal, babe.”

He straightened up and placed Doreen’s bag at the foot of my bed.

We want Mom to feel comfortable because she’s accustomed to superior accommodations. Phoebe, it’s only a week. You’ll make it through the guest room.

Would I make it through the guest room? The fact that this was coming from Jake astounded me. He had just complained about the guest room bed, and now I was to go in there and sleep as if nothing had happened?

How about the things I was accustomed to? How about me?

I faced Doreen once more. She was already leaning against my pillows on my bed, browsing through her phone like a queen in her palace.

Doreen responded, “Honestly, dear,” without even raising her head from her phone. The least you could do is this. After all, family looks out for kin.

Something rose in my throat, hot and bitter.

Family.

It’s funny that “family” only matters when I’m the one experiencing the problem.

“So let me get this straight,” I replied. I spoke in a steady, calm tone. “Your solution to having a guest in our home… was to move me out of my own bedroom?”

Jake gave his neck a quick rub.

“Well, when you put it like that…”

I interrupted with a stronger tone, “I literally just walked in and found my clothes in a pile on the floor,”

I looked across at Doreen.

Has the idea of simply staying in the guest room—oh, I don’t know—ever occurred to you? I also had it prepared for you.

When Doreen finally turned to face me, her face took on a horribly sweet, patronizing smile.

“Oh, sweetheart. Phoebe, the guest room is much too small for me. However, it’s all right for you.”

“Oh, is it?” I chuckled.

In fact, I burst out laughing.

Jake gave me a stern look.

“Let’s not make this a thing, Phoebe. Please.

I turned to face my husband. Like, I gave him a serious look.

His refusal to look me in the eye. The manner in which he stood, not beside me. The fact that he was aware of this yet didn’t believe I was worthy of discussing it.

I had a constricted chest.

It was more than just the bed. The room wasn’t even the point. It had to do with my understanding that I lacked their regard.

And all of a sudden?

I was finished.

I didn’t shout. I refrained from arguing. I simply grinned.

I then made my way to the guest room. Jake believed I was going to move into the guest room.

Oh, okay, I was moving.

I packed a few necessities and grabbed a luggage. I brought my laptop, some clothes, and my toiletries. I then left a really lovely message on the nightstand in the guest room.

I’ll let you two handle things since it’s obvious that you have everything under control at home. Have a great week with each other. When the house seems like mine again, I’ll be back.

I wish you luck!

After that, I grabbed my bag, put my phone on quiet, and left through the front door.

I skipped my sister’s party. I didn’t attend a friend’s party.

No. Neither of that was necessary.

Rather, I made reservations at an exclusive hotel on the other side of town. I made sure there was a king-sized bed that no one could try to take from me, a spa, and room service.

I also used Jake’s credit card to make all of the reservations because balance is key in life.

As I slid down into the relaxation lounge’s comfortable chair, the thick, warm steam coiled about me. Soft instrumental music was playing somewhere in the background.

It was the type of music that was intended to relieve tension.

A gentle voice remarked, “Your water, ma’am,” next to me. “It’s cucumber and lemon infused.”

I had spent hours in the spa. in a robe. I’m wearing slippers. And everything around me is tranquility.

But still?

I was unable to unwind.

To have fun was the main reason I left my house and checked into a hotel. To wash it away from me like a nightmare.

However, I chose to sit and reflect on everything that had happened.

I looked down at my hands and let out a deep exhale.

Why was it so painful?

It was more than just Doreen or my bedroom. It has to do with Jake.

It had to do with the way he had regarded me upon entering that room. As though I were being irrational. As if I were the cause of the difficulties.

As if it were a favor, he had asked me to move. As if I weren’t his wife, who was entitled to the same level of consideration and care as his mother.

I pressed my fingertips to my temples and swallowed deeply.

I had been accommodating for years. I had tolerated Doreen’s small quips and subtly offensive remarks for years. I had been telling myself for years that “she didn’t mean it like that.” Don’t worry too much about it.

And now?

She had now settled inside my bedroom and thrown my clothes on the floor.

Jake had allowed her to do so!

I closed my eyes tightly.

I believed Jake saw me, so I married him. since I believed he valued me. However, today had shown me something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

In Jake’s life, I was an afterthought.

I straightened my posture and clinched my jaw.

No.

I refused to sit here and let this consume me. I refused to allow this to become something that consumed me.

There was a reason I had left. I had also made my point. And Jake would need to know exactly why I had left in the first place if he wanted me back in that house.

I sipped my drink slowly, allowing the cold to sink into my chest.

For the time being?

I was going to wrap up my day at the spa.

Soon, though?

Jake would never forget the chat I was about to have with him.

After entering my home through the front door, I placed my bag on the table in the foyer and allowed the quiet to surround me.

It smelt clean, like fabric softener and polish with a hint of lemon. As if someone had been working feverishly to restore normalcy to the house.

Excellent.

Before I noticed him, I had only walked three steps into the living room.

Jake was waiting already.

His mouth was clenched and his arms folded. I could tell he hadn’t been sleeping well from the black bags under his eyes.

Excellent.

“Phoebe, you’re back,” he murmured in an unintelligible voice.

Simply, “I live here, Jake,” I said.

His face briefly lit up, but he hastily covered it up.

“Well, thanks for finally coming home.”

I said, “Oh, I’m sorry,” “Did my absence inconvenience you?”

“You didn’t have to leave.”

I chuckled.

“I didn’t?” I pointed to the sleeping quarters. “I was practically ejected from my own bed by you and your mother, Jake. You didn’t inquire. You made no suggestion. You informed me.

He let out a sigh.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it?” I posed a challenge. “Because from where I was standing, it looked a hell of a lot like you were telling me I didn’t belong in my own damn home.”

Quiet.

I saw my husband struggling with himself, wanting to justify what he was doing but also realizing that I was correct.

When he eventually said, “I didn’t think it was a big deal,”

I gently nodded as I took in what was being said. It was there.

“You didn’t think it was a big deal?” I said it again. You didn’t, of course. Since you voluntarily gave up your bed, it wasn’t being taken. Your cupboard was completely undamaged, and your clothing weren’t tossed on the ground.”

He winced.

“You stood there and watched as she wiped me out of our space, Jake. You simply allowed it to occur.

He responded, “That’s not what I meant to do,” as the strain ultimately caused his face to fracture.

“But it’s what you did.”

He looked down as he swallowed. And I saw it for the first time. Everything’s weight settling in.

“I thought I was keeping the peace,” he replied.

For a time, neither of us spoke.

He remarked, “She left early, you know,” “She claimed that in order for her to unwind, the cooking and cleaning had to be finished. The fact that she had to do it was too much for her.

“I know,” I replied. “I didn’t think she would remain long after I had departed. All she wanted was to wait.

His words, “She crossed a line in this house, Phoebe,” came out of nowhere.

“Yeah, Jake,” I answered while maintaining eye contact. “She did. You did, too.

He glanced down once more and gave a small nod.

I noticed it for the first time since I had entered. The insight.

Not only that he had made a mistake. However, why?

He appeared worn out when he eventually looked me in the eyes once more.

“I hate that you felt like you had to leave,” he said candidly.

“I hate that I wasn’t made to feel like I could stay,” I said.

Quiet.