She was furious.
Her husband was late. Again. No call. No text. Just silence. The dinner she'd made hours ago sat cold on the table, untouched. This wasn’t the first time — and tonight, she'd had enough.
So she scribbled a note, her handwriting shaky with rage:
"I've had enough. I'm leaving you. Don't bother coming after me."
She placed it on the dresser where he was sure to see it… then quietly crawled under the bed, holding her breath, determined to witness his reaction firsthand.
Minutes passed.
Then, the front door creaked open. Footsteps. The clink of keys in the bowl. The sound of the fridge opening and closing.
He made his way to the bedroom.
She watched his feet move across the room, pausing in front of the dresser. He picked up the note. Silence.
Then — a brief rustle of paper.
She squinted through the shadows, watching as he grabbed a pen and scrawled something beneath her message. Then, to her shock, he pulled out his phone and dialed.
She listened intently, heart pounding.
“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice warm and bright.
“She finally did it. Yep, left me. Can you believe it? About damn time, huh?”
Her eyes widened.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming over. Wear that little black nightie I love. Mmhmm. We’ll celebrate properly tonight. I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”
He laughed — laughed — then hung up, whistling as he snatched his car keys and walked out.
She stayed frozen, disbelief flooding her. The front door closed. The car engine roared. And then… silence.
Tears welled in her eyes as she slowly crawled out from under the bed, her hands trembling as she reached for the note.
She needed to know what he had written. Needed the final knife to the heart.
She turned the paper over.
And read:
“I can see your feet. Be back in 5 — we’re out of bread.”
2. The Lawyer’s Cut
During a math lesson, a sixth-grade teacher decided to spice things up with a real-world scenario.
She stood in front of the class and said:
“Alright, imagine this: A very wealthy man dies and leaves behind ten million dollars in his will.”
The class perked up instantly.
She continued:
“According to the will, one-fifth of the money is to go to his wife, one-fifth to his son, and one-sixth to his butler. The rest goes to charity.”
She paused dramatically.
“So, class… what does each one get?”
The room fell silent.
Brows furrowed. Pencils tapped. Math buzzed in their heads. Fractions. Division. Mental subtraction.
After a long, awkward silence, a single hand crept up from the back row.
It was Jeremy. Always quiet. Often lost in daydreams about dinosaurs and comic books.
The teacher smiled, ready to be impressed.
Jeremy cleared his throat, looked her dead in the eye, and said with absolute sincerity:
“A lawyer.”