But they wouldn’t have my wallet either.
The house was completely silent by the time I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop.
I didn’t feel angry, just incredibly tired of being used.
I logged into my airline account.
There they were: five first-class tickets to Maui for Mark, Chloe, their six-year-old daughter, and Chloe’s parents.
The total had been staggering, but I had wanted to create a beautiful memory.
Now, I was just looking at a bad investment.
I clicked the “Manage Reservation” button.
The system asked if I was sure I wanted to cancel the four passenger tickets.
I didn’t hesitate.
I clicked confirm.
Because the tickets were fully refundable, the thousands of dollars immediately returned to my credit card.
Next, I opened the vacation rental portal.
The sprawling oceanfront house with the infinity pool had a strict cancellation policy, but I was still within the window to get 80% of my money back.
I canled it.
I did the same for the SUV rental, the private snorkeling charter, and the sunset dinner reservations.
I didn’t cancel my own flight.
Instead, I called the airline and downgraded my single ticket to economy, changing the destination from Maui to Kawai.
I booked a modest, quiet cabin near the beach for myself.
No infinity pool. No matching family outfits. No serving as a free babysitter while my daughter-in-law tanned.
My phone buzzed on the desk.
It was a text from Mark.
“Hey, Mom. Forward me the confirmation emails when you get a chance. Chloe wants to show her mom the pool.”
I opened my photos, found an old screenshot of the booking from 3 weeks ago, and sent it to him.
It was a picture of a reservation that no longer existed.
“Sent,” I typed back.