Sounds like you knew in advance about the plane ticket situation. You could have spoken up then and made arrangements for you all to have seats together. RE hotel, and you canceling the reservation: major passive aggressive move on your part. DO BETTER. If MIL was playing games like this to try to make you feel second class, there was a choice. Don’t go on the trip until you can afford it on your own. Or let her play her games and grit your teeth.
Money can complicate even the closest relationships, especially when family, gifts, and expectations collide. Some rise above these differences, while others let them create distance and hurt. A reader, Sarah (32,F), recently shared a story that raises tough questions about fairness, respect, and how far is too far.
Here’s what she told us.

An insulting “gift”.

But when the tickets arrived, my excitement turned into humiliation. My husband and our daughter were booked in business class, while I was shoved into economy. When I asked about it, my mother-in-law gave me a mocking smile and said I should be grateful I even got to go.
What hurt more was my husband’s reaction. Instead of defending me, he told me not to “cause a scene” and insisted it was fine. That remark cut deeper than her insult.
Chaos in the hotel.
When we landed in Rome, the situation escalated. My husband proudly walked us up to the desk of a luxury hotel his mother had booked. But the receptionist frowned and told him there was no reservation under his name.
I stepped back and watched him crumble. He called his mother immediately, his voice rising in panic as he demanded answers. He kept saying, “Mom, what do you mean? This is supposed to be sorted!”
He didn’t look at me. He didn’t ask me. His first instinct was to run to her. And in that moment, something in me snapped.
I made it happen.

When he finally hung up, red-faced and frustrated, I told him the truth: I had canceled the luxury booking before we left. Instead, I had arranged a modest hotel nearby and paid for it myself. I looked at him and said quietly, “I may never be able to give you the kind of gifts your mother can. But with what little I have, I wanted this trip to feel like ours—not hers.”
Was I wrong?

The hotel wasn’t glamorous. My husband and daughter complained about the small rooms and lack of luxury. He kept saying I had ruined his birthday, and for five days the tension lingered between us.
Now we’re home, and I keep replaying it all in my head. Maybe I went too far. Maybe I turned what should have been a celebration into a punishment. I only wanted him to see my effort, to value what I could give, even if it wasn’t dripping in luxury.
But instead of gratitude, all I’m left with is the question I can’t shake: Did I ruin his birthday to prove a point?