After hearing her husband and neighbor’s daughter discussing their affair, Lexie doesn’t cry or confront them. Instead, she planned. She turns their betrayal into sassy karma with a brilliant invitation and shocking surprise. Never before has revenge been so satisfying.
My spouse Mark and I were married ten years. I thought we had a good life with two kids and a mortgage. Mark wasn’t much housework assistance.
Neither did he cook, clean, or handle the turmoil of parenting.
I did it all.
Exhausting?
Absolutely.
I rationalized that “we’re a team, Lexie.”
Mark had joined a different squad, though.
One bag of groceries started it.
I had just entered the driveway after a long store trip. My car was full of large goods, and I mentally prepared to carry everything inside alone.
As usual, Mark didn’t move.
That’s when I heard porch voices.
Mark was talking to Emma, our neighbor’s 25-year-old daughter who’d moved back to town. Her parents were thrilled when she received her internship after studying interior design.
She and Mark laughed like old friends now.
I almost shouted hello, but something stopped me.
I listened from behind my car, disguised by groceries and shadows.
“I can’t believe she hasn’t figured it out yet,” Emma laughed in the cold afternoon air.
Mark laughed back.
“Em, she’s so busy with kids and house. Lexie hardly notices anything. She’s gray too. She brushes her hair the opposite way to hide it. She’s been so lax. I no longer see her as a woman. Princess, she’s nothing compared to you.”
Emma laughed.
“Fortunately, sir, I’m here. Parade me all you want. I promise no gray hair.”
So they kissed.
Kissed?!
I grabbed a bag so hard that the plastic started tearing. My tears obscured my vision as shame and wrath filled me. They kept talking and flirting despite me.
I didn’t cry fully after those few tears. No screaming or shouting. I avoided them.
Instead, I quietly brought the items inside through the back door and planned.
I was shocked by my peacefulness the next morning. I prepared Mark breakfast—fluffy eggs and crunchy bacon. He liked his coffee with cinnamon, so I made it. I waved and kissed him goodbye as he departed for work.
I knocked on Emma’s door next door after he left.
It astonished her as she opened it.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs… “Hello, Lexie,” she stammered, beaming.
“Hi, Emma,” I smiled. Maybe you could come over tomorrow night. I need your advice.”
A smile faded as she blinked.
“Advice? On what?”
“Well,” I hesitated, sounding uncertain. Redesigning the living room is on my mind. Your parents said you studied design, so I assumed you could assist choose colors or furniture. Just a little while.”
A flash of hesitation crossed her eyes. A cheeky smile formed as she tilted her head.
“I’d love to help! In what time?”
“I think seven is fine? Dinnertime!” My smile was genuine, I said. “Many thanks, Emma. You rescue lives.”
Emma arrived dressed to impress the next night. She welcomed me with her customary cheerfulness and assurance.
I greeted her and escorted her in.
“Oh, before we get to the living room,” I answered nonchalantly. “I wanted to show you a few things.”
I showed her important domestic tasks around the house.
This is the dishwasher. Mark doesn’t bother, so you must fill it every night. Kids’ washing goes here, but please separate loads because they’re detergent-sensitive.”
Her gaze was fixed on me.
Their after-school schedule is here. You must pick them up on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Wednesdays are errand-free. I’ve recorded plumber, electrician, and pediatrician numbers. Just in case.”
Emma’s smile faded as she paled.
“And this,” I continued, leading her into the kitchen, stinking of roast chicken.
You’ll prepare all meals here. In addition to breakfasts, school and work lunches, snacks, and desserts, there’s a lot. Mark like medium-rare steak. Only fully cooked steak will satisfy the youngsters. Deader is better.”
The woman gasped.
Mark has no manners, so don’t expect a thank you. Sorry, but the kids are picky eaters. You’ll figure it out.”
Wide-eyed, she watched me.
Uh, Lexie. Not sure… Don’t think… I didn’t provide babysitting.”
Just then, Mark entered. A pallid face appeared when he noticed us.
“Lex, what’s going on?” He asked in a rough, loud voice.
“Oh,” I spoke brightly. “I probably should have included you. Emma is learning how to run the house from me. Since you think I’ve neglected myself, I’ll prioritize myself. I may also need a prince to love me. Emma, you’ll control my every move. Good luck!”
A knock on the door interrupted them.
Opening it revealed Emma’s parents. In a pinch, the same couple babysat my kids.
“Oh! The scent is great! “Lexie, I told Annie you’d make your roast chicken,” Emma’s father exclaimed.
“Anne and Howard, thanks for coming. I thanked you for raising a helpful daughter. “She and Mark have grown so close that I thought it was time to make her part of the family.”
“Wait, what?” Anne asked, frowning.
Emma will handle everything now that I’m leaving! You must be proud of your daughter.”
Her mother seemed perplexed. However, her dad was furious.
“Emma,” mom said. Please disprove this. Say this isn’t what I think.”
“It’s not what it looks like!” Emma stuttered.
As usual, coward Mark sought to deflect blame.
This is unfair, Lexie! Emma visited! She grabbed me!”
“Oh, did she?” I asked, eyebrow raised. “So, you’re saying that you’re not responsible for sneaking around with a 25-year-old while insulting your wife?”
He began to argue, but Howard stopped him.
The onus is on Mark. Emma, you’re also responsible. Let’s depart. Now.”
Emma glared at me maliciously before leaving. Her parents followed, muttering a thousand apologies.
Mark looked at me in desperation.
“Lexie, babe,” he said. Talk about this. You owe me a discourse after so long together.”
“Oh, sweetie,” I said. “We’ll discuss, no worries. Tomorrow, my lawyer will call. I suggest packing your luggage and leaving now.”
“Where will I go?” he wailed. “My family lives in a different state.”
“I don’t really care, Mark,” I responded, removing the chicken from the oven. Visit a motel. See a pal. Join the circus.”
What about the kids? Where are kids?”
“My sister has them. They’ll stay till you straighten your mess. You can tell them the truth once the lawyers settle. Mark, I won’t surrender.”
Emma broke up with Mark a week later, I heard.
“While fun, I didn’t sign up to be a mom. To him or his kids.”
Two weeks later, Mark returned.
“What do you want?” Noting his bouquet of flowers, I questioned.
“I’ve been so miserable without you,” he begged. “Please let me return. Lexie, please. This is fixable. Miss my kids. Miss our family.”
“I don’t care, Mark!” I shouted. I don’t care. Leave if you’re not productive. I’ll pick up the kids in a few hours after a playdate.”
He was speechless when I closed the door.
I’ve never been happier since that night months ago. Rediscovered parts of myself I believed were gone. Since starting salsa dancing, my confidence, excitement, and independence have grown.
Despite the craziness, my kids and I have discovered a new rhythm of laughing and love.
As for Mark? Currently single. According to my sources, Emma’s parents dislike her too. Anne bakes and delivers cakes and pies often. Howard enjoys raking our front yard leaves.
Karma’s funny, right?
Enjoy this story? Try another:
Calla thinks a lace robe in her husband’s closet is a sweet surprise. Her life changes when she sees Lorraine, her stepmother, wearing it. Calla hears Lorraine’s genuine plan, raising suspicions and tensions.
Inspired by true events and people, this work is fictionalized for creativity. To preserve privacy and enrich the story, names, characters, and facts were changed. Any resemblance to real people, events, or places is unintentional.
The author and publisher neither guarantee event authenticity nor character characterization and are not liable for misinterpretation. While this work is presented “as is,” the characters’ viewpoints do not reflect those of the author or publisher.
Fin!!!=================================================================
Joke : "The Bell Between Us"
The first time Adam saw Leila, it was behind a library book. Her face was half-covered, eyes skimming the words with the intensity of someone who lived more in fiction than reality. He had gone in looking for a history book. He walked out with a memory.
Adam was the quiet kind—athletic but not arrogant, smart but not showy. Leila? She was the school’s walking contradiction. Top grades, shy around people, and yet somehow unmissable. She wore oversized sweaters year-round and always had a pen behind her ear.
They had attended the same high school for years but had never spoken. Not until junior year, when fate—disguised as a seating chart—placed them next to each other in English class.
Their teacher, Mrs. Claremont, believed in "pair learning." For the first assignment, students had to analyze the theme of love in Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing—together.
Adam panicked. Leila just looked up, her voice barely above a whisper, “Should we meet in the library?”
That was how it began. Study sessions turned into jokes between paragraphs. Shared glances turned into long walks to class. One afternoon, as they reread Beatrice’s lines, Adam asked, “Do you think people can fall in love just by reading together?”
Leila smirked. “Only if the other person reads with the right pauses.”
They didn’t call it love then. It was still too new, too fragile, too undefined. But in the silence of dusty shelves and sharpened pencils, something bloomed.
By senior year, they were inseparable. Prom came around, and Adam surprised her with a proposal written in Post-It notes scattered across the library.
"Will... You... Go... To... Prom... With... Me?"
She found the last one taped to her favorite book. Her answer was written in her smile.
Prom night was magic—not because of the glitter or the photos, but because Adam whispered to her under the disco ball, “I think this is the start of our real story.”
Then came college.
Different cities. Different majors.
“Let’s try long distance,” she said with hope.
“We can make it,” he agreed, gripping her hand like a lifeline at the train station.
The first few months were filled with texts, long calls, virtual study dates. But slowly, reality seeped in. Missed calls. Different schedules. Silent goodnights.
They broke up just before spring break.
Adam never told anyone, but he kept every single one of her texts in a folder named “Us.”
Leila deleted his number but not his birthday from her calendar.
Years passed.
Adam graduated with honors and became a history teacher. Leila opened a bookstore in a small coastal town. Both found purpose, peace, and people—but never the same connection they once shared.
Ten years later, fate tried again.
It was the 10-year high school reunion. Adam almost didn’t go. Until he heard the rumor: Leila might be coming.
He wore his old letterman jacket, now tight around the arms. She walked in wearing the same scent he remembered—the soft smell of lavender and old books.
They locked eyes.
No words.
Just a smile that picked up exactly where they left off.
Later that night, they sat on the same bench where they’d once shared peanut butter sandwiches and homework stress.
“You look happy,” Adam said, his voice steady.
“I am,” she replied. “But you look... like someone I once loved.”
“I never stopped,” he said quietly.
Leila stared at the stars. “Do you think people can fall in love again just by sitting under the same sky?”
He leaned closer. “Only if the other person remembers the right pauses.”
This time, they didn’t part.
The story that began behind a library book finally found its epilogue—and it read something like: They lived happily ever after, between chapters and coffee cups, old memories and new beginnings.