When I told my husband I was pregnant, he froze. When he saw the ultrasound, he panicked. The next day, he was gone—no calls, no messages, no trace. But he was a fool if he thought he could disappear that easily. I needed answers. And maybe, just maybe, a little payback.
That morning, I woke up to an eerie silence. Usually, Max would be up by now—showering, making coffee, or grumbling about the morning news. But today? Nothing.
I reached out, touching his side of the bed. Cold.
A strange feeling crawled up my spine as I sat up. I glanced toward the chair where he always left his suit jacket. Gone.
I jumped out of bed, my heartbeat hammering in my ears.
The living room? Empty.
The kitchen? Spotless.
And then, on the dining table, I saw it. A single sheet of paper, folded neatly.
I unfolded it with trembling fingers.
“I’m sorry. I’m not ready.”
Five little words. My vision blurred as I read them over and over again.
“What?” I whispered, my voice barely there.
A hollow pit formed in my stomach. I rushed to the closet. Empty. His shirts, pants, even his favorite sneakers—gone.
I ran to the bathroom. His cologne, shaving cream, toothbrush—all missing.
The entryway. His drawer. Not even a stray sock left behind.
He was really gone.
But why? And how could he just walk away like this?
Last night, everything seemed fine. Sure, he was acting a little weird, but I thought it was just nerves.
I had handed him the ultrasound photo, practically bouncing with excitement.
“You’re… you’re pregnant?” His voice wavered.
“Yes! Isn’t it wonderful?” I had beamed at him, waiting for his joy to match mine.
But instead of celebrating, he just stared at the image. His face paled.
“We… we weren’t planning this.”
“I know, but some things are meant to be, right?” I had reached for his hand, but he barely held mine in return.
His gaze flickered back to the photo, then to me. His jaw tightened.
“Wait… what is this?”
“It’s twins, Max.”
For a second, I thought he might pass out. His arms wrapped around me, but the hug felt stiff, unnatural. He didn’t say he was happy. He didn’t kiss me. He didn’t promise we’d figure this out together.
Instead, he just got up.
“I need some air.”
Then, he left.
At the time, I told myself he just needed a moment. Maybe he’d come back with flowers or a box of chocolates, ready to celebrate.
Instead, he disappeared.
I clutched my phone, my hands shaking.
I called him once. No answer.
Twice. Three times.
“The number you are trying to reach is currently unavailable.”
I checked my messages. The last one I sent was before bed:
“I’m so happy! I can’t wait until we feel their first kicks together! ❤”
He hadn’t even read it.
The last text from him?
“Running late. Don’t wait up.”
Looking back now, I saw the signs. The late nights. The disappearing acts. The phone turned off.
Was he really just scared of fatherhood?
Or was there someone else?
I wiped my tears. If Max thought he could just run, he had another thing coming.
The days passed. He didn’t return. He didn’t call. By the fourth day, I was done waiting.
I started cleaning—anything to keep from going insane. I grabbed the laundry basket, pulling out the clothes from that night. And at the bottom, I found it.
His jacket.
The one he wore the night he left.
I lifted it, inhaling deeply. A scent clung to the fabric—floral, feminine.
Not mine.
My hands trembled as I dug through the pockets. Loose change. A crumpled napkin. A folded receipt.
And there it was—an address.
Not just a receipt. A clue.
I took a deep breath. There was only one way to find out the truth.
That evening, I stood outside a small, cozy house on the outskirts of town. I had been watching for thirty minutes.
Then, she arrived.
A blonde, younger than me. She parked an old Jeep, pulled out groceries, and disappeared inside.
I gritted my teeth. Who was she to my husband?
I knocked on the door.
It opened almost instantly. The woman blinked at me, confused.
“Hi,” I said coolly.
“Hi… Do I know you?”
“You really don’t?”
She tilted her head. “Should I?”
I let the silence stretch. Then, I said it.
“I’m Max’s wife.”
She turned ghostly pale. Her fingers gripped the doorframe. “His… wife?”
I nodded slowly. “I think we need to talk.”
She hesitated. Then, she stepped back. “Come in.”
I walked inside, my eyes scanning the room.
“I’m Katie,” she said softly. “I’ve been dating Max for six months. I… I swear, I didn’t know he was married.”
I reached for my wedding ring and slid it off. I placed it on the table between us.
“We’ve been married for two years. And we’re having twins.”
Katie’s hands flew to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
She really didn’t know.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then, Katie exhaled sharply and looked me in the eyes.
“What are we going to do about him?”
And that was how it all began.
The party was perfect. A golden “Congratulations, Daddy-to-Be!” banner hung above a beautifully decorated cake. Balloons filled the room. Everyone was laughing, celebrating.
Max stepped inside, smiling uncertainly.
“Wow… A party?” he said hesitantly.
Katie threw her arms around him. “Surprise!”
“For me?” His eyes darted nervously.
“Yes! And we have the best news!” Katie beamed. “We’re having twins!”
Max’s face drained of color. “T-twins?”
“Just like fate, huh?” Katie grinned.
His eyes searched the room, looking for an escape.
Then, Katie’s father clapped a heavy hand on Max’s shoulder. “Son, we’re so happy for you!”
Max twitched. “I… I need air—”
I stepped forward. “Going somewhere?”
His eyes widened. “You…”
Katie gasped dramatically. “Oh no, Max! You’re not running again, are you?”
He spluttered. “This… this was a setup!”
Katie grabbed a handful of cake. “Oops!” she said sweetly before smashing it into his face.
Laughter filled the room. Someone else followed. Then another.
Max wiped frosting from his eyes, furious. “You tricked me!”
“No, sweetheart,” I said, tilting my head. “You tricked yourself.”
And as he stood there, covered in cake, humiliated, trapped—I knew he finally understood.
Revenge never tasted so sweet.
