My husband, Mark, and I had been married for ten years. We had two beautiful kids, a mortgage, and a life I thought was built on love and trust. Sure, our marriage wasn’t perfect—whose is?—but I believed we were a team.
Even when Mark left all the responsibilities to me—cooking, cleaning, raising the kids, and making sure our lives didn’t crumble—I still thought we were in this together. I told myself it was fine.
“We’re a team, Lexie,” he’d say, kissing my forehead.
Except, as it turned out, Mark had decided to join a different team.
The Moment That Changed Everything
It all started with a simple trip to the grocery store.
I had just pulled into the driveway, my car packed with heavy bags, mentally preparing myself to haul them inside, alone, as usual.
Then I heard laughter—familiar, but not in the way that made me feel warm inside. It was Mark’s voice, mixed with another. Light, playful, flirty.
I paused, stepping back into the shadows behind my car, my arms still full of groceries.
“I can’t believe she hasn’t figured it out yet,” a young woman’s voice chimed, laced with amusement.
Mark chuckled. “Lexie’s so busy with the kids and the house. She barely notices anything else. And have you seen her? She’s gotten so gray—just brushes her hair the other way to cover it up. Honestly, she’s let herself go. She doesn’t even look like a woman to me anymore. She’s nothing compared to you, my princess.”
My breath caught in my throat. My fingers clenched so tightly around the plastic grocery bags that I could feel them beginning to tear.
“Well, lucky for you, mister,” Emma, our neighbor’s 25-year-old daughter, giggled, “I’m here now. You can show me off all you want. And trust me, there’s no gray hair in sight.”
Then they kissed.
Right there. On my porch. In broad daylight.
The humiliation burned through me, but I didn’t make a sound. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I didn’t storm out and demand an explanation. Instead, I took a deep breath, turned toward the back door, and carried my groceries inside.
I had a plan to make.
A Taste of His Own Medicine
The next morning, I woke up calm—eerily calm.
I made Mark’s breakfast, just the way he liked it. Fluffy eggs, crispy bacon, coffee with a dash of cinnamon. I kissed him goodbye and waved cheerfully as he left for work.
Then, I walked next door.
Emma opened the door, her bright, artificial smile faltering just slightly when she saw me.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs. Um—hi, Lexie,” she stammered.
“Hi, Emma!” I beamed. “I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow evening. I could really use your advice.”
She blinked. “Advice?”
I let out a nervous little laugh. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about redecorating the living room. Your parents mentioned you studied interior design. I’d love your opinion. It’ll just take a little while.”
Doubt flickered in her eyes, but then she tilted her head, smirking. “Oh, I’d love to help! What time?”
“Seven,” I said sweetly. “Dinner time!”
The Grand Reveal
The next evening, Emma arrived, dressed to impress. Her usual confidence practically radiated off her.
“So, what do you need help with?” she asked, stepping inside.
“Oh, before we get to that,” I said, “let me show you a few things.”
I led her through the house, smiling warmly as I pointed things out.
“Here’s the dishwasher—you’ll need to load it every night since Mark doesn’t bother. The kids’ laundry goes here. Please separate the colors; they’re sensitive to detergents. And, of course, their after-school schedule! You’ll need to pick them up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Wednesdays are free for errands.”
Emma’s smile faded. “Uh—what?”
I continued, unfazed. “And this,” I said, leading her to the kitchen, “is where you’ll prep all the meals. Breakfasts, school lunches, dinners. Oh, and snacks! Mark likes his steak medium-rare, by the way. The kids? They’ll only eat it if it’s cooked all the way through. The deader, the better.”
She gasped. “Lexie, I—I didn’t sign up to babysit them.”
Just then, the front door opened. Mark stepped in, freezing when he saw us.
“Lex, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Oh!” I turned to him with a bright smile. “I figured since I’ve ‘let myself go,’ it’s time I focus on myself. So, Emma here will be taking over all my duties.” I turned back to her. “Good luck, sweetheart.”
Before either of them could react, a knock came at the door.
Emma’s parents stood outside, smiling.
“Oh! It smells delicious!” her father, Howard, said cheerfully. “I told Anne you’d be making your famous roast chicken.”
I stepped aside, letting them in. “Thanks for coming! And thank you for raising such a helpful daughter. She and Mark have grown so close, I figured it was time to make her part of the family.”
“Wait, what?” Anne’s face darkened.
“I’m leaving,” I announced. “Emma’s taking over everything now. You must be so proud.”
Emma’s mother looked horrified. Her father? Furious.
“Emma,” Anne said, her voice shaking. “Tell me this isn’t true. Tell me you didn’t—”
“It’s not what it looks like!” Emma stammered.
Mark, the coward, tried to shift blame. “Lexie! This isn’t fair! Emma came onto me!”
“Oh?” I crossed my arms. “So, you had no control over your actions? Just a helpless victim?”
Howard turned on Mark, his face red with anger. “Emma, we’re leaving. Now.”
Emma shot me a glare before storming out. Her parents followed, muttering apologies.
Mark turned to me, desperate. “Lexie, please! We’ve been together for so long! At least talk to me!”
I patted his arm. “Oh, don’t worry. My lawyer will call you. But for now? Pack your bags and leave.”
He stammered, “Where will I go?”
I shrugged. “Motel? Friend? Circus? Doesn’t matter.”
The Sweet Taste of Freedom
A week later, I heard Emma had dumped him.
“It was fun, but I’m not playing mom. To him or his kids.”
Two weeks later, Mark came back, flowers in hand.
“I’ve been miserable without you,” he pleaded. “Please, let’s fix this.”
I sighed. “Mark, I truly don’t care. Goodbye.”
And with that, I shut the door in his face.
It’s been months, and I’ve never been happier. I rediscovered parts of myself I thought were lost. I took up salsa dancing. I found joy again.
As for Mark? Still single.
And Emma’s parents? They still babysit for me. Howard even rakes my leaves.
Karma’s funny, isn’t it?
