Eight years of marriage fell apart in an instant when my husband Mike brought home his pregnant girlfriend and kicked me out of our house. I packed my bags, but what I really unpacked was a clever plan for revenge!
Eight years. About 2,922 days. Roughly 70,128 hours. Every moment, my heart kept saying one name—MIKE, my husband. I thought he loved me just as much. Oh, how wrong I was! I’m Michelle, a devoted wife who loved her husband deeply, until that shocking night when my world turned upside down.
It was a Tuesday evening when everything changed. I came home tired from a long day at work and found a very pregnant woman sitting on our couch, munching on chips.
At first, I thought I must have walked into the wrong house.
But no, there was the awful floral wallpaper that Mike loved, and there was Mike, looking uncomfortable like he had just swallowed something prickly.
“Hey, Michelle,” he said, sounding as casual as if he were just asking for salt. “We need to talk.”
I stood there, frozen, trying to process what I was seeing. The pregnant woman smiled awkwardly, her hand resting on her belly, looking like she was in a drama show.
“This is Jessica,” Mike said, pointing to the woman on our couch. “She’s pregnant. With my child. It… it just happened. And we’ve decided to be together.”
I waited for the joke. Surely, this was some prank for a reality TV show. Maybe I’d win a car if I didn’t freak out?
But Mike looked serious, and Jessica kept smiling that annoying smile.
Mike looked offended. “Enough, Michelle! This is serious. I think it’s best if you move out. You can go stay with your mom. Jess and I will take over the house.”
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Nope, still not a dream.
I half-expected Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell me I’d been Punk’d. But no Ashton. Just my cheating husband and his very pregnant partner.
“Alright,” I said calmly. “I’ll pack my things and leave.”
Mike looked relieved, probably thinking he’d gotten off easy. Jessica’s smile got even bigger, like she had just won the lottery. Little did they know, their luck was about to change, and not for the better.
I went upstairs, packed a suitcase with my essentials, and left without saying a word.
As I drove to my mom’s house, the shock faded, and anger took over. But this wasn’t just any anger. This was the kind that makes you want to do something bold and incredibly satisfying.
The next day, I put my plan into action.
First stop: the bank. I walked in there like a woman on a mission, which I was. I froze our joint account faster than you can say “cheating jerk.”
The look on the bank manager’s face when I explained was priceless. I think he was mentally taking notes for his next book.
Next, I went to a locksmith.
I remembered overhearing Mike tell Jessica they’d be gone for three days, giving me plenty of time to carry out my plan. It felt like the universe was on my side, and who was I to argue with fate?
My next stop: my house. The same cozy home where Mike and I had once made plans for the future, which was now in ruins.
The confused locksmith probably thought I was crazy, laughing as I had him change all the locks on the house. I may have gone a little overboard and asked for the most complicated, high-tech locks. If I was going to do this, I wanted to do it right.
Then came the movers.
I gave them the spare keys and arranged for them to pack up everything I owned, which was basically everything in the house. I even took the toilet paper. Let’s see how Mike and Jessica enjoy using leaves!
But the best part? Oh, that was still to come. I had a brilliant idea that would make this revenge not just sweet, but unforgettable.
I sent out party invitations. A lot of them. To Mike’s family, our friends, his coworkers, and even that nosy neighbor who always complained about our late dog.
The invitation said: “Come celebrate Mike’s new life! Surprise party at our house, tomorrow at 7 p.m.!”
Then, I arranged for a billboard. Yes, a billboard. A huge one. It was delivered and set up on our front lawn, impossible to ignore.
In giant, bold letters, it read: “Congratulations on Dumping Me for Your Pregnant Mistress, Mike! Hope the Baby Doesn’t Inherit Your Infidelity!”
I stepped back to admire my work, feeling like a mischievous fairy godmother who just granted the world’s most ironic wish. With a satisfied smirk and a dramatic hair flip, I walked away, excited for the chaos to come.
The next evening, right on cue, my phone rang. It was Mike, and he sounded like he was losing it.
“Michelle!” he yelled, his voice reaching levels I didn’t know he could hit. “What the hell is going on? Why are there people at our house? And what’s with this crazy billboard?”
“Oh, that?” I said, trying to sound innocent. “Just a little housewarming party for you and Jessica. Don’t you like the decorations?”
“Decorations? It’s a freaking circus out here! And why can’t I get into the house?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well, sweetie, you told me to move out, remember? You never mentioned anything about you staying there. The house is under my name, so I changed the locks. Oops!”
There was a long pause on the other end. I could almost hear him trying to understand what was happening.
“Where are we supposed to go?” he finally asked, sounding lost.
“Gee, I don’t know, Mike. Maybe Jessica’s mom would love to have you? I hear pregnancy hormones and in-laws mix really well.”
I hung up, feeling lighter than I had in years. But wait, there was more!
In the following days, I had the utilities turned off, canceled the cable, and made sure all our shared assets were in my name. I put the house up for sale, making sure to mention in the listing that it came with a “bonus front lawn art installation.”
I had Mike served with divorce papers at his work. I even asked the mailman to dress up as a pregnant woman. Just for fun!
But the universe wasn’t finished with Mike yet. Oh no, it had saved the best part for last.
A week later, I got a call from Jessica. Yes, that Jessica. She was crying so much that I could barely understand her.
“Michelle,” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know… I mean, Mike told me you two were separated. And now… now he’s broke and homeless, and I’m pregnant, and I don’t know what to do!”
I almost felt bad for her. Almost.
“Well, Jessica,” I said, trying not to sound too happy, “I hear the circus is always looking for new acts. Maybe you two could start a juggling duo? You juggle the baby, and he juggles his lies?”
She didn’t appreciate my humor. Tsk! Tsk!
As it turned out, when Jessica learned that Mike was now homeless, broke, and the laughingstock of the town, she decided that being with a guy who had no money, no house, and no future wasn’t a great idea after all.
She dumped him faster than you can say “Karma’s a b****!”
Last I heard, Mike was living in a tiny apartment, trying to scrape together enough money to pay bills and feed himself. His family had cut him off, disgusted by what he did.
They even sent me a fruit basket and an apology card. I ate the fruits while relaxing in my new jacuzzi.
As for me? Well, the house sold for a nice profit. I moved to a beautiful new place, started my own business, and adopted a cat. I named him Karma.
Daughter Discovers Sealed Letter in Attic, But Her Mom’s Reaction Left Her Speechless
Chloe visited her sick mother, Helen, every week. One day, while at her mom’s house, she decided to clean the attic. It seemed like no one had been up there for years. While cleaning, she found a box of old letters that could hold the answer to her biggest question—why her father left. But one letter stood out. It was sealed and had never been opened.
Chloe, now 34, had been coming to visit her mother more often recently. Helen’s health had gotten worse, and she was now bedridden and weak.
Chloe couldn’t shake the fear that any visit could be the last. This feeling hung over her heart constantly.
Every week, Chloe would come by with groceries. She cooked meals for her mother and handled the tasks that Helen could no longer do.
It was hard for Chloe to watch her once-strong mother, Helen, grow so weak. But Chloe knew it was important to be there, no matter how difficult it felt.
One chilly afternoon, Chloe stood in the kitchen, stirring a pot of soup. The smell of chicken and herbs filled the room, and the bubbling of the broth was the only sound.
But then Helen’s sharp voice broke the silence from the living room.
“You know, at your age, I already had you,” Helen called, sounding irritated. “When are you going to have children?”
Chloe tensed, gripping the spoon tighter. Her mother had made this comment before, but it always hurt.
Helen had grown more critical with age. She often commented on Chloe’s lack of children, her career, or her relationship. Chloe tried not to let it get to her, but it was tiring.
“Maybe one day, Mom,” Chloe replied softly, not wanting to argue since Helen wasn’t well enough for it.
After feeding Helen and making sure she was comfortable, Chloe tidied up the kitchen. The house was a mess since her mother’s illness had worsened, and there was always so much to do.
When Helen finally fell asleep, Chloe decided to tackle a bigger job—the attic. No one had been up there for years, and it was time to clean it out.
The attic was dimly lit, with thick layers of dust covering everything. Cobwebs hung in the corners, and the air smelled musty.
As Chloe sorted through old belongings, something caught her eye—a small box in the corner. She pulled it out and saw it was locked. After finding a hammer, she gently tapped the rusty lock until it broke.
Inside were dozens of old letters, yellowed with age. Chloe’s breath caught as she realized they were love letters from her father—the man she had never known.
Each letter was filled with love and promises to return soon. Her father had been an actor, traveling with a theater troupe. In his letters, he sent money and wrote about missing Helen. Chloe was completely absorbed, learning about a love story she had never heard.
At the bottom of the box, Chloe found one final letter. It was still sealed, as if waiting all these years. Her heart raced—why hadn’t her mother opened it? What secrets did it hold?
Chloe knew she couldn’t open it without asking her mother first, no matter how badly she wanted to know the truth.
She went to her mother’s room, where Helen was awake. Chloe hesitated, knowing this would upset her.
“Mom, I found a box of letters in the attic. They’re from Dad,” Chloe said carefully.
Helen’s face hardened, and she snapped, “What were you doing going through my things?”
“I was just cleaning,” Chloe answered quickly. “But there’s one letter you never opened. Why?”
Helen’s face flushed with anger. “Burn them! I never opened that letter for a reason. You will never read it! Swear it!”
Chloe was shocked. “But Mom, don’t I have a right to know? He’s my father, and I know nothing about him.”
Helen sighed deeply, too exhausted to argue anymore. Chloe, feeling defeated, left the room, still holding the unopened letter.
Chloe sat in the living room, staring at the sealed envelope. This letter might finally reveal why her father had left, but part of her didn’t want to open it. What if the truth was worse than the mystery?
After a long pause, Chloe took a deep breath and opened the letter. Her heart sank as she saw it was charred, but the message was clear: her father loved Helen and their unborn child. He had promised to come back.
Behind it was another letter, from her father’s best friend, explaining that her father had died a hero, saving people from a fire during one of his performances.
Chloe rushed back to her mother’s room, demanding, “Why didn’t you tell me? Dad loved us!”
Helen’s voice trembled as she explained, “He loved us, but he loved his work more. He stayed behind to help people in a fire and died.”
Chloe was stunned. “He died… a hero?”
Helen nodded. “I couldn’t read that letter. I wanted to forget.”
Chloe sat down beside her mother. “Do you want me to read it to you?”
Helen hesitated but smiled through her tears. “I’d love that.”
With a deep breath, Chloe began to read her father’s final words aloud, letting the love he left behind fill the room.
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