Eight years of marriage shattered in one quick breath when my husband Mike brought home his pregnant sidekick and KICKED ME OUT of the house. I packed alright, but what I unpacked was a revenge plot so brilliant and karmic!
Portrait of a sad young woman | Source: Midjourney
It was a Tuesday evening when my life decided to go off the rails. I walked into our living room, tired from a long day at work, only to find a heavily pregnant woman sitting on our couch, eating chips.
At first, I thought maybe I’d accidentally wandered into the wrong house.
But no, there was our ugly floral wallpaper that Mike insisted on keeping, and there was Mike, looking like he’d just swallowed a porcupine.
A pregnant woman sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, Michelle,” he said, his voice as casual as if he was asking me to pass the salt. “We need to talk.”
I stood there, frozen, my brain trying to compute the scene before me. The pregnant woman smiled awkwardly, her hand on her belly, looking like she was auditioning for a soap opera.
“This is Jessica,” Mike continued, gesturing to the human incubator on our couch. “She’s pregnant. With my child. It… it just happened. And we’ve decided to be together.”
A woman gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
I waited for the punchline. Surely, this was some elaborate prank for a new reality TV show. Maybe I’d win a car if I didn’t freak out?
But Mike’s face remained serious, and Jessica kept smiling that infuriating smile.
“Mike,” I said slowly, “what do you mean by ‘it just happened’? Did you trip and fall into her—?”
Mike had the audacity to look 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’ll take over the house.”
A serious-looking man sitting on the couch | Source: Midjourney
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Nope, still not a dream.
I was half-expecting Ashton Kutcher to jump out and tell me I’d been Punk’d. But alas, no Ashton. Just my cheating husband and his very pregnant sidekick.
“Alright,” I calmly said. “I’ll pack my things and leave.”
Mike looked relieved, probably thinking he’d gotten off easy. Jessica’s smile grew wider, like she’d just won the lottery. Little did they know, the lottery was about to hit them back, and hit them hard.
A heartbroken woman at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
I went upstairs, packed a suitcase with some essentials, and left without another word.
As I drove to my mom’s house, the shock wore off, and rage took its place. But this wasn’t just any rage. This was the kind of rage that makes you want to do something spectacularly stupid and incredibly satisfying.
The next day, I set my plan in motion.
First stop: the bank. I marched 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 why was priceless. I’m pretty sure he was mentally taking notes for his next novel.
A woman outside a bank | Source: Midjourney
Next, I visited a locksmith.
I remembered overhearing Mike tell Jessica they’d be gone for three days, giving me plenty of time to execute my master plan. It was like the universe was conspiring in my favor, and who was I to argue with destiny?
My next stop: my house. The same cozy house Mike and I once lived together, planning a future that was now a total trainwreck.
The puzzled locksmith probably thought I was crazy, cackling as I had him change all the locks on the house. I may have gone a bit overboard and asked for the most complicated, high-tech locks available. Hey, if I was going to do this, I was going to do it right. And big.
A locksmith fixing a door lock | Source: Midjourney
Then came the movers.
I gave them the spare keys and scheduled 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 piece de resistance? Oh, that was yet to come. I had a brilliant idea that would make this revenge not just sweet, but long-lasting.
Toilet paper rolls in a basket | Source: Midjourney
I sent out party invitations. Lots of them. To Mike’s family, our friends, his coworkers, even that nosy neighbor who always complained about our late dog.
The invitation read: “Come celebrate Mike’s new life! Surprise party at our house, tomorrow at 7 p.m.!”
A party invitation | Source: Midjourney
Then, I commissioned a billboard. Yes, a billboard. A huge one. It was delivered and set up on our front lawn, impossible to miss.
In giant, bold letters, it proclaimed: “Congratulations on Dumping Me for Your Pregnant Mistress, Mike! Hope the Baby Doesn’t Inherit Your Infidelity!”
I stepped back to admire my handiwork, feeling like a mischievous fairy godmother who’d just granted the world’s most ironic wish. With a satisfied smirk and a dramatic hair flip, I sashayed away from the scene, eagerly anticipating the chaos that was about to unfold.
A billboard outside a house | Source: Midjourney
The next evening, right on cue, my phone rang. It was Mike, and he sounded like he was having an aneurysm.
“Michelle!” he screeched, his voice hitting octaves I didn’t know he could reach. “What the hell is going on? Why are there people at our house? And what’s with this insane 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?”
A startled man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but giggle. “Well, honey, you told me to move out, remember? You never said anything about you staying there. I just remembered that the house is solely under my name. So, I changed the locks. Oopsie!”
There was a long silence on the other end. I could almost hear the gears in his tiny brain trying to process what was happening.
“Where are we supposed to go?” he finally sputtered.
“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.”
A smiling woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
I hung up, feeling lighter than I had in years. But wait, there was more!
In the days that followed, I had the utilities cut off, canceled the cable, and made sure all our joint assets were transferred into my name. I listed the house 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 work. I specifically requested the mailman to dress up as a pregnant woman. Just for funsies.
But the universe wasn’t done with Mike yet. Oh no, it had saved the best for last.
A man gaping in shock as he holds some papers | Source: Midjourney
A week later, I got a call from Jessica. Yes, that Jessica. She was crying so hard 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 to keep the glee out of my voice, “I hear the circus is always looking for new acts. Maybe you two could start a juggling duo? You juggle the baby, he juggles his lies?”
She didn’t appreciate my humor. Tsk! Tsk!
Silhouette of a pregnant woman holding a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
As it turns out, when Jessica found out that Mike was now homeless, broke, and the laughingstock of the town, she decided that maybe being with a guy who had no money, no house, and no future wasn’t such 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 his hungry belly. His family had cut him off, disgusted by his behavior.
They even sent me a fruit basket and a sorry card. I ate the fruits while soaking 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.
A woman with her pet cat | Source: Midjourney
So yeah, my revenge might have been a bit over the top. But let’s be real, bringing home a pregnant mistress and trying to kick me out of my own house? That’s not just crossing a line, that’s pole-vaulting over it and then setting the pole on fire.
In the end, I learned a valuable lesson: When life gives you lemons, don’t just make lemonade. Squeeze those lemons into the eyes of those who wronged you, and then sit back and watch them stumble around blindly. It’s much more satisfying.
And remember, folks: cheaters never prosper, but the cheated-on with a good sense of humor and a flair for the dramatic? Oh, we do just fine!
A cheerful woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Was Upset That My Grandfather Only Left Me an Old Apiary until I Looked into the Beehives — Story of the Day
My Grandpa, the man who spun tales of buried treasure and promised me the millions. But when his time came, lawyer called me.
“Your grandfather wanted to divide evenly his money between your siblings. But he wanted you to know – he loved you the most, Robyn. That’s why you’ll get his apiary”. – he said.
That was the biggest letdown: a dusty, old apiary. Who leaves their grandchild an insect-infested shack? This cruel joke of an inheritance was a slap in the face until the day I peered into the beehives.
It all started with a regular morning. Aunt Daphne peered over her glasses at the mess on my bed. “Robyn, have you packed your bag yet?”
“I’m texting Chloe,” I groaned, hiding my phone.
“It’s almost bus time! Get ready!” Aunt Daphne said, stuffing books into my bag.
I saw the time. 7:58 A.M. “Ugh, fine,” I sighed, getting up from the bed.
She held out a shirt for me, ironed and ready. “This isn’t what your Grandpa hoped for you, you know. He believed you’d be strong, independent. And those beehives he left? They’re not going to tend to themselves.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
I recalled the times with Grandpa, the honey, the bees. But now, my mind was on the upcoming school dance and my crush, Scott.
“I’ll check them, maybe tomorrow,” I said, fixing my hair.
“Tomorrow never comes for you. Grandpa believed in you, Robyn. He wanted you to take care of the apiary,” she insisted.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I said sharply. “I’ve got better things to do than take care of Grandpa’s bees!”
I saw Aunt Daphne’s face fall and tears spring in her eyes. But the school bus honked right then, and I rushed out, ignoring her sad expression.
On the bus, my thoughts were focused on Scott, not the apiary I inherited from Grandpa Archie. “Who wants an apiary?” I thought, annoyed at the responsibility.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But the next day, Aunt Daphne brought it up again. She scolded me for neglecting chores and spending too much time on my phone.
“You’re grounded, young lady!” she declared suddenly, and it was then I finally looked up from my phone.
“Grounded? For what?” I protested.
“For shirking responsibility,” she replied, mentioning the neglected apiary.
“The apiary? That useless bee farm?” I scoffed.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“It’s about responsibility, Robyn. It’s what Grandpa wanted for you,” Aunt Daphne said, her voice strained with emotion.
“Look, Aunt Daphne,” I protested, “I’m scared of getting stung!”
“You’ll be wearing protective gear,” she countered. “A little fear is normal, but you can’t let it stop you.”
Reluctantly, I headed to the apiary. As I approached the hive, I was both scared and curious. Donning heavy gloves, I opened the hive and began harvesting honey, my heart pounding.
Suddenly, a bee stung my glove. I nearly gave up, but a surge of determination hit me. I had to finish this. I had to prove to Aunt Daphne that I wasn’t the reckless, irresponsible 14-year-old she thought I was.
While harvesting honey, I discovered a weather-beaten plastic bag inside the hive containing a faded map with strange markings. It seemed like a treasure map left by Grandpa Archie.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Excited, I tucked the map into my pocket and pedaled home. Leaving the half-filled jar of honey on the kitchen counter, I sneaked out and followed the map into the woods.
Navigating the familiar woods, I remembered Grandpa’s stories and laughed about his encounters.
As I stepped into a clearing that seemed to leap straight out of Grandpa’s stories, I couldn’t help but shiver. This was the exact place he’d talk about the legendary White Walker of the forest, making my imagination run wild as a kid.
And there it was, just like in his tales – the old gamekeeper’s house, looking forgotten by time with its chipped paint and sagging porch. “Grandpa used to sit us down here, munching on sandwiches and pie after collecting honey, and weave his incredible stories,” I thought, a bittersweet nostalgia washing over me.
Touching the ancient dwarf tree near the porch, I could almost hear Grandpa’s playful warning, “Watch out, kiddo. Let’s not disturb the grouchy little gnomes,” as if we were back in those carefree afternoons.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
I found the hidden old key and unlocked the cabin, stepping into a world that time had forgotten. The air was heavy with a musty smell, and specks of dust glimmered in the stray beams of sunlight.
There, catching my eye, was a beautifully carved metal box on a dusty table. Inside was a note from Grandpa, just for me:
“To my dear Robyn, inside this box is a special treasure for you, but it’s not to be opened until your journey’s true end. You’ll know when the time is right. All my love, Grandpa.”
I was dying to see what was inside, but Grandpa’s last instruction echoed in my head, “Only at the end of your journey.”
I couldn’t just ignore his last wish.
I continued my journey through the forest, but after a while, I felt like I was lost.
“This map is no good,” I realized, not being able to spot a way out of the woods. I didn’t know when I started crying.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
But then, I remembered something important. “Grandpa always said to stay calm,” I told myself. “I can’t give up.”
Then, I heard a sound like a small branch breaking far off, and it made me think of scary stories from when I was little. “Maybe Aunt Daphne was right to warn me,” I thought, looking around at the huge forest. But thinking of Grandpa’s advice made me brave enough to keep going, guiding me through the enveloping wilderness.
I took a big, nervous breath and tried to think clearly. Going back seemed like a good idea, but it would be hard to see clearly in the forest when it got dark. There was a bridge, the one Grandpa always talked about… that might help, I thought.
Wiping away a tear, I straightened my backpack. “Okay, Robyn,” I whispered to myself. “Let’s find that bridge.”
But that confidence didn’t last long. The sun was setting, making the woods menacing. Exhausted, I slumped under a tree, longing for Aunt Daphne’s cozy kitchen.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
My backpack offered no comfort, just reminders of my unpreparedness. Desperately searching for food, I found nothing but stale cracker crumbs. “Focus, Robyn. Find the bridge. Find water,” I urged myself, ignoring the hunger.
Then, remembering Grandpa’s advice again, I used heal-all leaves for my wounds and pushed on, driven by the sound of rushing water. But the river wasn’t the gentle stream I remembered; it was a dangerous, fast-moving torrent.
Ignoring the treacherous path, I scrambled down the rocky bank, driven by a desperate thirst. Reaching the water’s edge, I knelt, cupping my hands to scoop up the cool liquid. It tasted faintly metallic, but it was life-giving nectar at that moment.
As I rose, the precarious footing betrayed me. Slipping, I tumbled into the icy current, screaming for help. My backpack dragged me down. “Grandpa,” I whispered helplessly. Thinking of him, a sliver of clarity cut through the panic. He wouldn’t have wanted me to give up. He’d taught me to fight, to be brave.
I decided to ditch the backpack but kept Grandpa’s metal box. Fighting the current, I struggled towards the shore, refusing to give up.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
My fingers brushed a solid log, a lifeline in the churning chaos. I clung to it with every ounce of strength, the current tossing me like a ragdoll. Then, with a final shove, it deposited me, sputtering and bruised, onto the muddy bank.
I peeled off my soaking clothes and hung them up on a tree to dry. My eyes then fell on a metal box that might help me find my way back.
Grandpa had told me to wait until the end of my journey to open it, but I just couldn’t wait any longer. Inside, I found no treasure, just a jar of honey and a photo of us together. It hit me then—this journey and the real treasure was about the value of hard work, just like Grandpa always said.
Tears welled up as I thought about how I’d ignored all the wisdom Grandpa had shared with me. I’d been chasing adventures, forgetting the important things he’d tried to teach me.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Wiping my snotty nose, I told myself it was time to get moving, to make Grandpa proud. I started building a shelter from branches and leaves under a big oak tree. It was rough, but it was enough for the night.
The next morning, the bright sun woke me up. I pushed through the woods, holding onto that metal box like a lifeline, thinking about Grandpa.
Remembering the times we went fishing together warmed me up a bit. “Slow and steady,” I could almost hear him say. I even started humming one of his favorite tunes, feeling like he was right there with me.
When I saw a bridge in the distance, hope bubbled up inside me. With Grandpa’s lessons in my heart, I wasn’t alone. But then, the forest turned into a confusing maze, and I started to panic. Just when I thought I couldn’t go on, I stumbled into a clearing and collapsed, totally exhausted.
That’s when a dog found me, and I heard a chorus of muffled voices: “There she is!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock
Waking up in a hospital bed, I saw Aunt Daphne by my side. “I’m sorry,” I managed, overwhelmed by regret. “I’m so sorry, Aunt Daphne.”
“Hush, dear. You’re safe now,” she said softly.
“I messed up,” I cried out. “Grandpa was right about everything!”
Aunt Daphne held my hand and smiled. “He always loved you, sweetie. Even when you were mad at him, even when you didn’t get why. Remember how upset you were about not getting that smartwatch just weeks before he passed?”
“I never appreciated him or anything he did for me. He was always there for me. Grandpa was both my Mom and Dad after their passing. But I—”
“He knew you’d come around, sweetie. He always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
At that point, she reached into a bag beside her chair, pulling out a brightly colored box. My breath hitched as I recognized the familiar blue wrapping paper: the same kind Grandpa always used for gifts.
“This is for you,” Aunt Daphne said gently, placing the box on my lap. The Xbox I wanted.
“Grandpa wanted you to have this,” Aunt Daphne continued. “He said when you learned the value of hard work and understood the importance of patience and perseverance, it would be yours.”
“I’ll be good, Aunt Daphne,” I promised. “I don’t need this anymore. I have learned my lesson.”
Aunt Daphne’s smile, this time brighter and filled with genuine joy, was all the reassurance I needed. Reaching to the bedside, I pulled out the small honey jar.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Would you like some honey, Aunt Daphne?” I asked, offering the sticky jar.
Taking the jar, she dipped a finger in and tasted the honey. “It’s sweet,” she said, her voice soft. “Just like you, Robyn. Just like you!”
Years have flown by since then. Now, at 28, a million miles from that grumbling teenager to a bee boss with two little terrors of my own (who thankfully love honey!), I learned a thing or two about responsibility.
Thanks, Grandpa! Thank you for everything you taught me! I whisper every single time I see the happiness on my kids’ faces when they enjoy honey.
That delicious honey is a reminder of the beautiful bond Grandpa and I shared.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Getty Images
Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
Leave a Reply