O que deveria ter sido um dia de casamento perfeito tomou um rumo bizarro quando um caixão, coberto com um laço gigante, foi levado ao altar. A noiva ficou atordoada, os convidados ficaram em silêncio, e o que aconteceu depois seria lembrado como a brincadeira mais inesperada do dia.
“Tem certeza de que está pronta para isso?”, meu pai perguntou, sua mão quente pousada em meu ombro enquanto eu ajustava meu véu no espelho.
Uma noiva se olhando no espelho | Fonte: Pexels
“Eu estive pronto a minha vida toda, pai”, eu disse com um sorriso. Minhas mãos estavam firmes, mas meu coração disparava de excitação.
Eu não era o tipo de garota que sonhava com contos de fadas, mas sempre quis esse dia — um dia cheio de amor, risadas e família. E agora estava acontecendo. Tudo estava perfeito, até o último detalhe, exatamente como eu havia planejado.
Uma noiva perto de uma janela | Fonte: Pexels
Eu passei meses escolhendo flores, escolhendo as cores certas e me certificando de que todos soubessem seu lugar. Minha mãe costumava dizer que eu era um pouco controladora, mas isso me fazia sentir segura, sabendo que as coisas estavam em ordem.
“Você está linda”, meu pai acrescentou, um pouco emocionado.
“Não comece a chorar ainda”, provoquei. “Ainda temos que chegar ao altar.”
Um pai abraçando sua filha | Fonte: Pexels
Eu mal podia esperar para caminhar até o altar e ver Jacob — meu futuro marido. Ele não era como eu. Ele nunca pensava demais nas coisas. Jacob era calmo e engraçado, sempre pronto para me fazer rir quando eu ficava muito séria. Era isso que eu mais amava nele.
Jacob e eu nos conhecemos há quatro anos na festa de um amigo em comum. Eu estava sentada no canto, evitando conversa fiada, e ele veio até mim com um grande sorriso.
“Parece que você está se divertindo muito”, ele disse, segurando uma bebida em cada mão.
Uma mulher em uma festa | Fonte: Pexels
“Odeio festas”, admiti.
“Eu também”, ele riu, embora estivesse claramente se divertindo muito.
Esse era Jacob — tranquilo, com um talento especial para tirar o melhor de cada situação. Começamos a conversar, e não demorou muito para que eu também estivesse rindo. Aquela noite mudou tudo para mim.
Um jovem sorridente | Fonte: Pexels
Éramos opostos em muitos aspectos, mas simplesmente nos encaixávamos. Eu gostava de ordem; ele amava espontaneidade. Eu tinha minha vida planejada; ele preferia seguir o fluxo. Mas, de alguma forma, funcionou.
“Não acredito que você vai se casar”, minha melhor amiga Kate disse durante a despedida de solteira. “Você costumava dizer que não acreditava em todas essas coisas de casamento.”
“Eu não”, respondi, pensando em Jacob. “Mas então eu o conheci.”
Two friends laughing | Source: Pexels
Jacob had his own set of friends—guys he’d known since grade school. They were a loud, rowdy bunch, always playing jokes on each other. Sometimes they drove me nuts, but Jacob loved them, and I knew they meant the world to him.
His best man, Derek, was always the ringleader, coming up with crazy pranks and schemes. The guys called themselves the “bachelor club,” like they were stuck in high school.
Friends hanging out | Source: Pexels
“They’ll grow up one day,” Jacob always said with a grin.
But even though they were immature at times, Jacob was different when he was with me. He wasn’t just a prankster—he was thoughtful and kind, always finding little ways to make me smile. He’d leave me notes, cook dinner when I was tired, and listen to my endless wedding planning without complaint.
A happy couple in a field | Source: Pexels
“That’s what you’re supposed to do when you love someone,” he once told me, shrugging like it was the easiest thing in the world.
The day had finally arrived, and the sun was shining. It was perfect. As I stood there, ready to marry the love of my life, I took a deep breath. My father was by my side, my family and friends were all waiting outside, and Jacob… well, he was probably cracking jokes with his friends, trying to calm his nerves.
A groom tying his shoes | Source: Pexels
“You ready?” Dad asked again, sensing my excitement.
“I’ve never been more ready,” I replied.
With one last look in the mirror, I smiled. Everything was exactly how it was supposed to be. I wasn’t nervous, just eager to see Jacob standing at the end of that aisle, waiting for me.
A smiling bride | Source: Pexels
And then we stepped outside.
The ceremony was going perfectly. The soft hum of music filled the air as Jacob and I stood facing each other, hands intertwined. He was smiling at me, and I could feel the warmth of his love radiating in that moment. My heart swelled with joy, and I could see tears welling up in his eyes. We were about to exchange our vows, the most important words of our lives.
A bride and groom looking at each other | Source: Pexels
But just as I opened my mouth to speak, something strange caught my eye. From the back of the venue, a group of people appeared. They were walking slowly, carrying something heavy. At first, I thought it was a joke—someone bringing in a last-minute wedding gift. But as they got closer, I saw what they were carrying. A coffin.
My stomach dropped. I blinked, hoping I was imagining things, but no—there it was. A real, wooden coffin, with a giant red bow on top.
Men carrying a coffin at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
“What the…?” I whispered to myself, barely able to process it. This couldn’t be happening.
The guests, who had been smiling and laughing just moments before, fell silent. The music seemed to fade into the background as all eyes turned to the approaching coffin. Confusion rippled through the crowd. My pulse raced. I looked over at Jacob, expecting him to react, but he just stood there, wide-eyed like everyone else.
Men carrying a coffin | Source: Pexels
“What is this?” I thought, panic building in my chest. “Is it a prank? Something gone horribly wrong?” I glanced around, looking for some kind of answer, but nobody seemed to know what was happening. My head was spinning, and I felt lightheaded, like I might faint.
The group of men carrying the coffin came closer. My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel my knees trembling. I clutched Jacob’s hand tightly, but even he seemed too shocked to move.
A shocked bride | Source: Freepik
They walked right up to the altar and set the coffin down at our feet. I could barely breathe.
Then, one of Jacob’s friends—Derek, the best man—stepped forward. Of course, it was him. If anyone was behind something as insane as this, it had to be Derek. He reached for the lid of the coffin, his hand moving slowly, as if he was deliberately building suspense.
“Derek, what the hell is going on?” I finally managed to say, my voice shaky.
A close-up of a man carrying a coffin | Source: Pexels
He didn’t answer. Instead, he smiled—a big, goofy grin—and lifted the lid.
I gasped. Inside the coffin wasn’t what I feared. No grim surprise or morbid joke. Instead, lying there was a large framed portrait of Jacob, with a huge gift bow wrapped around it like he was some kind of present.
A man’s photo in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
For a second, I was too stunned to react. My brain struggled to make sense of what I was seeing. Then, from behind the coffin, the rest of Jacob’s friends jumped out, shouting, “Surprise!!!”
I just stood there, frozen, trying to process it all. My mind went from panic to confusion to… realization. Slowly, it dawned on me: this was all a prank. A ridiculous, over-the-top prank pulled by Jacob’s friends. The coffin, the portrait—everything. They were symbolizing that Jacob was “dead” to them now that he was getting married.
A photo in a coffin | Source: Midjourney
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered, still in shock.
Derek burst out laughing, clearly pleased with himself. “He’s a married man now! He’s gone forever!” he shouted, pointing at Jacob’s picture. The rest of the guys were laughing, too, slapping each other on the back like they’d just pulled off the greatest prank of all time.
A laughing man | Source: Unsplash
I turned to look at Jacob, who was now grinning sheepishly. “I had no idea,” he said quickly, holding up his hands like he was innocent in all of this. “I swear, I didn’t know they were planning this.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to do. Part of me wanted to strangle Derek for pulling something so outrageous in the middle of my wedding. But then… the absurdity of it all hit me. Jacob’s friends were always pulling stunts like this. It was their way of showing they cared. And, honestly, it was kind of funny.
A thoughtful bride | Source: Freepik
Before I knew it, I started laughing. I couldn’t help it—the whole situation was so ridiculous. Soon, Jacob was laughing too, and then the guests joined in. The tension dissolved, and the mood lightened again. The wedding wasn’t ruined. If anything, it was just made more memorable.
“I can’t believe you guys did this,” I said, wiping away a tear from laughing so hard.
A laughing couple at their wedding | Source: Pexels
“It’s all in good fun,” Derek replied, still grinning from ear to ear. “We couldn’t let Jacob off that easy. We had to say goodbye to him properly.”
Jacob shook his head, still smiling. “You guys are ridiculous.”
“Well,” I said, still catching my breath, “It’s a good thing all our family and friends have a good sense of humor. This could’ve gone horribly wrong.”
A bride laughing | Source: Freepik
I turned to Jacob, feeling a wave of love and relief. Despite the craziness, everything was perfect. This was our wedding, and it would be a day we’d never forget.
Jacob leaned in, kissing me softly. “I love you,” he whispered, his eyes twinkling.
“I love you too,” I whispered back, thinking to myself, What a day.
A bride and a groom kissing | Source: Pexels
I invited a fortune teller to my bridal party as a playful prank to rattle my difficult future mother-in-law. What started as harmless fun quickly spiraled into a shocking confrontation, revealing a secret hidden in her designer bag that threatened to ruin my wedding day entirely.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Refused to Buy a New Washing Machine and Told Me to Wash Everything by Hand — Because He Promised His Mom a Vacation Instead
Six months postpartum, drowning in baby laundry, and exhausted beyond words, I thought my husband would understand when our washing machine broke. But instead of helping, he shrugged and said, “Just wash everything by hand—people did it for centuries.”
I never thought I’d spend this much time doing laundry.
A tired woman in a chair | Source: Pexels
Six months ago, I gave birth to our first baby. Since then, my life had turned into a never-ending cycle of feeding, changing diapers, cleaning, cooking, and washing. So much washing. Babies go through more clothes in a day than an entire football team.
On a good day, I washed at least eight pounds of tiny onesies, burp cloths, blankets, and bibs. On a bad day? Let’s just say I stopped counting.
A woman doing laundry | Source: Pexels
So when the washing machine broke, I knew I was in trouble.
I had just pulled out a soaking pile of clothes when it sputtered, let out a sad grinding noise, and died. I pressed the buttons. Nothing. I unplugged it, plugged it back in. Nothing.
My heart sank.
When Billy got home from work, I wasted no time.
A tired puzzled woman | Source: Pexels
“The washing machine is dead,” I said as soon as he stepped through the door. “We need a new one.”
Billy barely looked up from his phone. “Huh?”
“I said the washing machine broke. We need to replace it. Soon.”
He nodded absently, kicked off his shoes, and scrolled through his screen. “Yeah. Not this month.”
A man on his phone in his living room | Source: Pexels
I blinked. “What?”
“Not this month,” he repeated. “Maybe next month when I get my salary. Three weeks.”
I felt my stomach twist. “Billy, I can’t go three weeks without a washing machine. The baby’s clothes need to be cleaned properly every day.”
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
Billy sighed like I was asking for something unreasonable. He put his phone down and stretched his arms over his head. “Look, I already promised to pay for my mom’s vacation this month. She really deserves it.”
I stared at him. “Your mom’s vacation?”
“Yeah. She’s been babysitting for us. I thought it’d be nice to do something for her.”
Babysitting?
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
I swallowed hard. His mother came over once a month. She sat on the couch, watched TV, ate the dinner I cooked, and took a nap while the baby slept. That wasn’t babysitting. That was visiting.
Billy kept talking like he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on me. “She said she needed a break, so I figured I’d cover her trip. It’s just for a few days.”
A man talking to his wife in his kitchen | Source: Pexels
I crossed my arms. “Billy, your mom doesn’t babysit. She comes over, eats, naps, and goes home.”
He frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Oh, really? When was the last time she changed a diaper?”
Billy opened his mouth, then shut it. “That’s not the point.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I think it is.”
A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
He groaned, rubbing his face. “Look, can’t you just wash everything by hand for now? People used to do that for centuries. Nobody died from it.”
I stared at him, feeling my blood boil. Wash everything by hand. Like I wasn’t already drowning in work, exhausted, aching, and running on three hours of sleep a night.
An angry woman clutching her head | Source: Pexels
I took a slow, deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. I wanted to yell, to scream, to make him understand how unfair this was. But I knew Billy. Arguing wouldn’t change his mind.
I exhaled and looked at the pile of dirty clothes stacked by the door. Fine. If he wanted me to wash everything by hand, then that’s exactly what I’d do.
The first load wasn’t so bad.
A pile of clothes | Source: Pexels
I filled the bathtub with soapy water, dropped in the baby’s clothes, and started scrubbing. My arms ached, but I told myself it was temporary. Just a few weeks.
By the third load, my back was screaming. My fingers were raw. And I still had towels, bedsheets, and Billy’s work clothes waiting for me.
A tired woman sitting near a bathtub | Source: Midjourney
Every day was the same. Wake up, feed the baby, clean, cook, do laundry by hand, wring it out, hang it up. By the time I was done, my hands were swollen, my shoulders stiff, and my body exhausted.
Billy didn’t notice.
A bored man on a couch | Source: Pexels
He came home, kicked off his shoes, ate the dinner I cooked, and stretched out on the couch. I could barely hold a spoon, but he never once asked if I needed help. Never looked at my hands, red and cracked from hours of scrubbing.
One night, after I’d finished washing another pile of clothes, I collapsed onto the couch next to him. I winced as I rubbed my aching fingers.
Billy glanced at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
A tired woman on her couch | Source: Pexels
I stared at him. “What’s wrong with me?”
He shrugged. “You look tired.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Gee, I wonder why.”
He didn’t even flinch. Just turned back to the TV. That was the moment something snapped inside me.
An annoyed woman in her kitchen | Source: Pexels
Billy wasn’t going to understand—not unless he felt the inconvenience himself. If he wanted me to live like a 19th-century housewife, then fine. He could live like a caveman.
So I planned my revenge.
The next morning, I packed his lunch as usual. Except instead of the big, hearty meal he expected, I filled his lunchbox with stones. Right on top, I placed a folded note.
A lunchbox filled with rocks | Source: Midjourney
Then I kissed his cheek and sent him off to work.
And I waited.
At exactly 12:30 PM, Billy stormed through the front door, red-faced and furious.
“What the hell have you done?!” he shouted, slamming his lunchbox onto the counter.
I turned from the sink, wiping my hands on a towel. “What do you mean, sweetheart?”
A laughing woman in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
He flipped open the lid, revealing the pile of rocks. He grabbed the note and read it out loud.
“Men used to get food for their families themselves. Go hunt your meal, make fire with stones, and fry it.”
His face twisted in rage. “Are you out of your damn mind, Shirley? I had to open this in front of my coworkers!”
I crossed my arms. “Oh, so public humiliation is bad when it happens to you?”
A shouting man wearing glasses | Source: Pexels
Billy clenched his jaw. He looked like he wanted to yell, but for once, he didn’t have a comeback.
I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Go on, Billy. Tell me how this is different.”
His jaw tightened. “Shirley, this is—this is just childish.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Oh, I see. So your suffering is real, but mine is just me being childish?”
An angry woman lecturing her husband | Source: Pexels
He threw his hands in the air. “You could have just talked to me!”
I stepped forward, fire burning in my chest. “Talked to you? I did, Billy. I told you I couldn’t go three weeks without a washing machine. I told you I was exhausted. And you shrugged and told me to do it by hand. Like I was some woman from the 1800s!”
A woman turning away from her husband | Source: Pexels
His nostrils flared, but I could see the tiny flicker of guilt creeping in. He knew I was right.
I pointed at his lunchbox. “You thought I’d just take it, huh? That I’d wash and scrub and break my back while you sat on that couch every night without a care in the world?”
Billy looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.
A sad man clutching his head | Source: Pexels
I shook my head. “I’m not a servant, Billy. And I’m sure as hell not your mother.”
Silence. Then, finally, he muttered, “I get it.”
“Do you?” I asked.
He sighed, shoulders slumping. “Yeah. I do.”
A tired man rubbing his temples | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a long moment, letting his words settle. Then I turned back to the sink. “Good,” I said, rinsing off my hands. “Because I meant it, Billy. If you ever put your mother’s vacation over my basic needs again, you’d better learn how to start a fire with those rocks.”
Billy sulked for the rest of the evening.
An angry man in a hoodie | Source: Pexels
He barely touched his dinner. He didn’t turn on the TV. He sat on the couch, arms crossed, staring at the wall like it had personally betrayed him. Every now and then, he sighed loudly, like I was supposed to feel bad for him.
I didn’t.
For once, he was the one uncomfortable. He was the one who had to sit with the weight of his own choices. And I was perfectly fine letting him stew in it.
A woman reading a book on a couch | Source: Pexels
The next morning, something strange happened.
Billy’s alarm went off earlier than usual. Instead of hitting snooze five times, he actually got up. He got dressed quickly and left without a word.
I didn’t ask where he was going. I just waited.
That evening, when he came home, I heard it before I saw it—the unmistakable sound of a large box being dragged through the doorway.
A large box in the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I turned around and there it was. A brand-new washing machine.
Billy didn’t say anything. He just set it up, plugging in hoses, checking the settings. No complaints. No excuses. Just quiet determination.
When he finished, he finally looked up. His face was sheepish, his voice low.
“I get it now.”
A sorry man covering his face | Source: Pexels
I watched him for a moment, then nodded. “Good.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I, uh… should’ve listened to you sooner.”
“Yeah,” I said, crossing my arms. “You should have.”
He swallowed, nodded again, then grabbed his phone and walked away without argument or justification. Just acceptance. And honestly? That was enough.
A satisfied smiling woman | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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