My MIL ‘Accidentally’ Drop My Daughter’s Vacation Ticket Out The Window But Karma Didn’t Need My Help
My husband arranged a big getaway for the whole family to the Canary Islands — it was going to be me, our daughter Ava (from my first marriage), his mother Darlene, and his sister. Ava was ecstatic. Her very first time on a plane. But as we were driving to the airport, Darlene piped up, “Can we roll the windows down? It feels stuffy in here.” Then she turned to Ava and said, “Let me take a quick look at your ticket, sweetheart.” Not three seconds later — whoosh — the ticket was sailing out the window.
“Oh no,” she sighed, almost theatrically. “I guess the universe decided you two weren’t meant to come along.”
I caught her eyes in the rearview mirror. That self-satisfied little smirk said it all. This wasn’t some random accident. She orchestrated it. I didn’t yell or make a scene. I simply gave her what she wanted — or so she thought — and replied calmly, “Maybe you’re right.” But as it turns out… the universe had some surprises in store for her too, because not long after, Darlene was on the phone, crying and asking for help.
It was two days after the rest of the group had jetted off to the islands without us. Ava was heartbroken at first, but we turned it into something good — movie marathons, baking cookies, and even a staycation at a beautiful hotel downtown. Honestly, it was refreshing not having to deal with Darlene’s constant digs.
Then my phone rang. Darlene. Sobbing.
“Sophia… please… I need a favor.” I almost ignored the call, but curiosity got the better of me.
“What’s the matter, Darlene?”
Through the tears, she explained. Apparently, she had taken a bad fall during dinner at their fancy resort and twisted her ankle. But that wasn’t the real problem. In the chaos, someone snatched her purse — with her passport, wallet, everything inside. No identification. No money. No way home.
“I called the embassy, but it’s going to take days… and Clyde”—my husband—“can’t stay much longer because of his job.”
“That’s rough,” I said, keeping my voice neutral.
“You don’t get it!” she cried. “I need someone to bring my documents — my birth certificate, paperwork — so I can apply for a temporary passport.”
I let the silence sit for a moment. She sounded defeated — a far cry from the smug woman who’d tossed Ava’s ticket out the window.
“Why me?” I asked at last. “Don’t you have a daughter?”
“Greta’s leaving early too! Sophia, please. You’re the only person who can help me.”
The only one, huh? Interesting way to put it.
After a long pause, I said, “Alright. I’ll see what I can do.”
That night, I sat on the couch with a cup of tea in hand. Ava curled up beside me.
“Are we going to the Canary Islands after all?” she asked, hopeful.
I smiled. “Looks like we are, sweetie.”
We both knew it wasn’t a vacation — not really — but I wasn’t going to pass up the opportunity. I booked two flights for the next morning.
When we landed, Darlene looked like a mess. Her ankle was wrapped in a clunky boot, her face blotchy from crying. But when she spotted Ava with me, her expression tightened. She clearly hadn’t expected me to bring my daughter.
“You… brought her?” she stammered.
“Of course,” I replied, sweet as honey. “I couldn’t leave her behind. She is family, after all.”
Her jaw clenched, but she stayed silent. Ava gave her a polite little wave, all innocence and smiles. My girl isn’t naïve — she knew exactly what was going on.
Over the next few days, while I helped Darlene sort out the embassy stuff, Ava and I made the most of the trip. We hit the beach, saw dolphins, enjoyed fresh seafood — all the experiences she was supposed to have from the start.
As for Darlene, she was stuck indoors most of the time or hobbling along behind us, trying to keep up. I didn’t have to lift a finger — karma was already at work.
When it was time to fly home, she limped onto the plane, avoiding eye contact. Mid-flight, she finally spoke.
“I… I shouldn’t have done what I did,” she said, barely audible over the engine noise. “I guess… I thought Clyde would drift from you if Ava wasn’t in the picture. I was wrong.”
I didn’t respond right away. A part of me wanted to lash out, to throw her words back in her face. But then I looked down at Ava, asleep against my shoulder, and something shifted.
“You were wrong,” I said quietly. “And not just about that. Families don’t work that way. The more you try to drive a wedge between people, the tighter their bond becomes.”
She looked at me, guilt written all over her face.
“I hope you took something from all this,” I added. “Because I’m done playing games. I won’t let your issues hurt my daughter again.”
Darlene dabbed at her eyes and gave a small nod. For once, she didn’t have a snarky retort.
Since that trip, the dynamic changed. Darlene didn’t turn into a whole new person, but she kept her distance. The snide comments and petty moves stopped. And Clyde? He saw it all clearly. It brought us even closer.
Funny how things turn out — sometimes you don’t need to seek revenge. Just wait. Life has a way of evening the score.