When Josh’s mom invited us to her lake house, I expected a cozy weekend. Instead, the moment we arrived, she asked me to clean. Dust, grime, and cobwebs filled every corner, but while I scrubbed toilets, Josh and his parents sipped wine on the porch. By dinnertime, she handed me a tray of raw meat and told me to grill, insisting it was a “family tradition.” Her smile made it clear — this wasn’t about bonding. It was a test.

Exhausted, I asked about a shower, only to be told it was “broken.” Instead, I was offered a wash basin outside with a garden hose and flimsy curtain. Shivering under the cold water, I fought back tears. Later, I overheard her bragging on the phone: “She thinks the shower’s broken. I just wanted to see what kind of girl she is.” My stomach twisted. It wasn’t bad luck — it was humiliation by design.

The next morning, her husband casually mentioned the kitchen sink was broken, not the shower. I kept quiet but knew the truth. Later, a plumber arrived unexpectedly, walking straight into the bathroom. Seconds later, Josh’s mom stormed out, dripping wet, towel wrapped tight. The working shower had exposed her lie.

I didn’t have to say much. I simply smiled and told her, “I thought the shower was broken.” Josh’s face hardened as realization hit. His mother stayed silent, confirming everything.

That evening, we packed up and left. Josh apologized in the car for not standing up sooner. I told him the truth: she hadn’t just tested me — she’d tested him, too.

Some tests backfire. And karma has flawless timing.