My Sister-In-Law Belittled My Wife for Her Job as a Massage Therapist – But My Wife Got the Last Laugh When Karma Struck Back Hard

During a family dinner, Evan is forced to bite his tongue when his brother and sister-in-law speak down to his wife, Sam, for her profession. But things soon change when Sam gets an offer that she cannot refuse, all thanks to the reason she was belittled. Soon after, Evan’s sister-in-law knocks on Sam’s door, asking for her professional help.

Since Samantha and I got married, my brother and his wife have always been on Sam’s case. She’s a massage therapist and is insanely gifted with her hands.

As part of her volunteerism, she goes to a local old-age home to treat the elderly to massages. I think it’s beautiful and selfless, but my family had other thoughts.

“Do you still work as a massage therapist?” Jill asked her when we went to dinner at Jill and Brian’s house. They were celebrating big promotions at work and had just moved into a new house.

“I do,” Sam said, twirling her pasta around her fork.

“But why? Not only will you and Evan never afford a house like this on your meager salary, but you also choose to touch old people. That’s gross!” Jill sneered at my wife while she sipped her wine.

“I find my work incredibly fulfilling,” Sam said, her composure well-maintained. “Helping those in need, especially the elderly, is satisfying to me. It’s more meaningful to me than managing stock exchanges.”

I clenched my fists under the table, anger boiling inside me.

I loved my brother, but since he and Jill got married, they had become insufferable. I didn’t understand the need to belittle Sam.

I opened my mouth to speak my mind, but Sam put her hand on my arm, giving me a subtle shake of her head.

“I’m sorry,” I told her in the car. “I should have intervened earlier.”

“No,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “Nothing good would have come from that. Your brother and sister-in-law believe that money is the only way to success. They don’t understand anything else.”

I nodded. That much was true.

Two weeks later, things began to change for my wife.

She came home beaming while I began dinner.

“What’s that smile for?” I asked her as she walked in. “You’ve got news, haven’t you?”

“Evan, it’s been a good day!” she said, sitting down at the counter.

I knew that she was going to tell me everything.

“I was at the nursing home today and saw Abigail; she really needed help with her back,” Sam said, adding milk to the cup of tea I had pushed toward her.

“She’s the old lady that gives you the peppermint candy, right?” I asked, chopping veggies.

“Yes,” my wife laughed. “She said that my hands were actual magic and she felt a hundred times better. And as I was leaving, her son showed up for a visit.”

“The one who smuggles donuts and cookies in or the one who takes her pickled beetroot?” I chuckled.

“Anthony, the donut-bringer,” Sam said. “He said that he couldn’t be happier that I was treating his mom and that he was looking for a new investment.”

It turned out that Abigail had been praising Sam every time she spoke to her son.

“Abi told him that I have my clinic, but I do visits at the nursing home out of pocket. So, she’s been telling him that the home should hire me out so that I get paid. I’ve always refused her idea, though.”

Sam took a long sip of her tea.

“But Anthony said that he wants to fund my clinic. He wants to add more money to it so that I can get another therapist in if I wanted to.”

“So that you wouldn’t want to close the clinic every time you leave?” I asked. “That’s definitely a good thing.”

Sam nodded and smiled.

“He said that he would be willing to do an entire renovation of the place. Give it a face-lift and truly make it something bigger than it is.”

“That’s incredible, honey!” I said, slicing pieces of chicken.

“And finally, he said that he would speak to the nursing home about me having an office there, too. So, I wouldn’t have to massage the clients on their beds or couches.”

Anthony only had one condition. He wanted Samantha to run the office at the nursing home while still making sure that her business ran smoothly.

“He wants me to oversee any massage therapy for the elders. He said that he would get a chiropractor in if I wanted it. Just for a second set of hands and eyes.”

“And all this is because of Abigail?” I asked, genuinely surprised.

“Yes,” she said. “I’m going to shower, okay? Leave the cleaning up; I’ll do all the dishes when I’m done!”

I couldn’t have been happier for her. I was in IT and worked in cybersecurity, so there was no need to worry about finances in our house. We were good on that front.

But my wife loved her profession and deserved these little wins. She needed to have moments like this.

She needed people to come in and believe in her, not belittle her like my family had. If anything, Sam had always worked so hard for everything.

A few weeks later, the renovations at Sam’s office began, and she gave the entire place a refresh.

“I just want to make it brighter and more welcoming,” she said. “I want people to feel at home.”

While Sam looked at paint colors, I ordered her an entire range of essential oils for her client rooms. I just wanted her to have the best experience she could.

One day, after Sam’s clinic had truly taken off, she came home with boxes of pizza in hand.

“Darling,” she said, setting the boxes down at my desk. “You’ll never believe who walked into the office today.”

“Who?” I asked, helping myself to a slice of pepperoni pizza.

“Your brother’s wife,” she said, sitting on the couch and taking off her high heels. “She came in with severe back pain. She didn’t know that it was me.”

“What was her reaction?” I asked, curious.

“Shocked, mostly,” Sam said, helping herself to a slice. “She tried to apologize, too. But it just wasn’t the right place or time. She came in for help, and I wanted to help her. Despite how snobby she is.”

“Your next client is here, Samantha,” Gina, my receptionist, said through the phone. “Should I send her in?”

“Sure,” I said. “I’m ready!”

Moments later, the door opened, and my sister-in-law, Jill, walked in, looking absolutely shocked.

“What? You’re Mrs. Smith?” she asked, her eyes almost popping out of her head.

“Yes,” I said. “Didn’t you know that?”

“Know what? I thought that you took Evan’s last name,” she said.

“No,” I said, smiling. “Now, how can I help you today?”

“I…” she began to say. “Listen, Samantha, I’m sorry about what I said at dinner.”

“It’s fine,” I said truthfully. “Let me help you.”

“I have severe back pain. Work has been stressful, my job is difficult. Please, help me.”

“You carry your stress in your shoulders and your lower back, Jill,” I said, massaging her shoulders.

“Look, Samantha,” she began, her voice muffled by the massage table. “I’m really sorry again.”

“Let it go, Jill,” I said. “Sometimes we all say things we do not mean. But as you can see, I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Yeah, those shoes speak for themselves,” she said. “Thank you.”

In the end, Jill and my brother changed their tone toward my wife. At the next family event, they were both singing her praises.

“Samantha has magic in her hands,” Jill told my mother. “She fixed my issues after two sessions.”

I’m just grateful that Sam let Jill come to her own conclusion, not forcing an apology. She healed my sister-in-law with her hands, and that seemed to be more than enough.

What would you have done?