When my mother-in-law, Helen, texted me one evening, “Meet me. Don’t tell David,” I never imagined what was about to unfold. It all started over coffee, where she revealed a shocking truth: my husband, David, was cheating on me. But what she said next would take the entire situation to a level I could never have expected—she had a plan to make him regret it. All I had to do was play along.
I stared at my phone, reading the text for what felt like the hundredth time.
“Meet me. Urgent. Don’t tell David.”
In all the years I had been married to David—ten, to be exact—Helen had never contacted me in such a secretive, urgent way. She was always fiercely protective of her son, often to the point of being overbearing. She never reached out unless it was absolutely necessary.
I glanced at the clock. David wouldn’t be home for another few hours—he had one of his usual late meetings at work. I quickly typed a reply: “Where and when?”
Her message came back almost immediately: “Coffee shop on 5th. 30 minutes.”
When I arrived at the café, it was eerily quiet. Helen was already seated in the corner, her posture straight as a ruler, her blonde hair perfectly styled, as always. She looked like someone who had just come from a photo shoot, not from a crisis. She didn’t waste a moment on small talk.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her voice tight with barely contained emotion. “I wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”
I slid into the chair across from her, my mind already racing. “What’s going on?”
Helen didn’t hesitate. She leaned in, her eyes locking onto mine with a look of intense determination. “David is cheating on you.”
The words hit me like a punch to the stomach. I felt my breath leave me, but strangely enough, I wasn’t surprised. The signs had been there for months: his late nights, the way he guarded his phone like it was some sort of secret treasure, and the sudden obsession with getting in shape. I’d been brushing it off, telling myself I was being paranoid.
“How do you know?” I managed to ask, my voice shaking.
Helen’s mouth tightened into a line. “I saw him. At a restaurant. With a woman. They were… intimate. He kissed her.”
Everything clicked into place. The weird little things I’d been ignoring suddenly made sense. It even explained his strange irritation whenever Jasper, my childhood pet parrot, squawked “I’m a cheater” during family arguments. David always flinched and looked uncomfortable, though I never thought much of it before.
“You know how Jasper always says, ‘I’m a cheater’ when the kids argue?” I asked, a shaky laugh escaping me. “My sister taught him that when we were kids because I used to cheat at cards. David flinches every time he hears it now.”
Helen’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling in thought. “Your African Gray? The one Sam and Bella adore so much?”
I nodded, thinking of our kids—nine-year-old Sam and seven-year-old Bella—and how they would take this news if they knew. I couldn’t bear the thought of them being caught in the middle of a divorce.
“Why are you telling me this?” I asked, feeling a lump form in my throat.
Helen leaned in closer, her voice turning sharp and fierce. “Because I raised him better than this, Teresa. And I’m NOT letting him get away with it.”
I blinked, caught off guard by her sudden intensity. “I… I don’t know what to do,” I admitted, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over me.
A slow, calculating smile spread across Helen’s face. “You don’t have to do anything. Just play along. Leave the rest to me. I’ve got a plan to teach him a lesson he’ll never forget.”
That night, as David and I were getting ready for bed, his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, then frowned.
“It’s my mom,” he said, his tone filled with annoyance.
I busied myself with the laundry, trying to listen in on the conversation without appearing too interested.
“Hey, Mom. What? Slow down. What happened?” David’s voice changed as he listened. “Tonight? But it’s already late. Can’t you call a plumber?” He sighed heavily. “Fine. Yes. You can stay with us.”
He hung up and turned to me, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern. “My mom’s apartment flooded. The pipes burst. She needs to stay with us for a while.”
I masked my surprise with a look of sympathy. “Of course, she can stay. Family comes first, right?”
An hour later, Helen arrived, carrying two large suitcases. She gave me a tight hug and whispered, “Let the games begin,” before flashing David a slightly shaky smile. “Thank you for taking me in, sweetie,” she said, her voice just trembling enough to sound convincingly distressed. “I don’t know what I would have done otherwise.”
The next morning, Helen was up before the rest of us. By the time David stumbled downstairs for breakfast, she had completely taken over the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway, eyeing the breakfast spread like it was a potential trap.
“Mom, you didn’t have to cook,” he said, a little uneasy.
“Nonsense! It’s the least I can do to thank you for your hospitality,” Helen chirped, setting a plate in front of him. “I made Filipino eggplant omelets.”
I stifled a grin. David hated eggplant.
“I’ve been watching a lot of cooking videos from around the world lately, and it’s really spiced up my repertoire,” Helen added, clearly proud of herself.
David shot me a look that clearly said, Help me. “That’s… great,” he muttered weakly, picking up his fork. “But eggplant isn’t really my—”
“Eat up!” Helen cut in cheerfully. “It’s good for you, and you need your strength for work!”
I watched with a mix of sympathy and amusement as David forced himself to take a bite, his face contorting as he tried not to gag.
And that was just the beginning.
Each day, Helen came up with new, creative ways to torture David’s picky eating habits. She made spicy Korean-style pork cutlets with a chili sauce that had him sweating and red-faced. One night, she served boiled cabbage that filled the entire house with a smell that made him gag visibly.
David would stare longingly at Sam and Bella’s more child-friendly meals, but Helen wouldn’t let him off the hook. She insisted that he needed to be a better example for the kids.
“It’s time you stopped being such a picky eater, David,” Helen would say with a sweet smile, passing him another heaping spoonful of cilantro-laden chicken curry. “Now, have some more. It’s good for you.”
By the end of the week, David was on edge. He couldn’t relax. His phone became his new obsession, and he’d start making excuses to leave the room whenever calls came in.
One night, after he’d gone to bed, Helen pulled something out of her purse. It was a small round device.
“Do you know what this is?” she asked, showing it to me.
“An AirTag,” I said, recognizing the tracker.
Helen smiled slyly. “I’m slipping it into his work bag. Let’s see where he really goes for these ‘late meetings.’”
David’s stubborn refusal to get an iPhone was going to work in our favor—his Android phone wouldn’t detect the AirTag. We were in business.
The next evening, after David had left for work, Helen checked the tracker on her phone.
“Gotcha,” she muttered, showing me the location. It was a fancy restaurant downtown—not his office.
“Let’s go,” Helen said, already grabbing her car keys.
Twenty minutes later, we were crouched outside the upscale Italian restaurant. Through the window, we could clearly see David sitting at a corner table with a woman in a red dress. His hand was over hers, and they were leaning close to each other, whispering.
Helen looked at me, her finger hovering over her phone. “Ready?”
I nodded, my heart pounding.
Helen pressed the call button. And through the window, we saw David’s phone light up.
But instead of his usual ringtone, the restaurant was filled with the loud, squawking voice of my parrot, Jasper.
“I’M A CHEATER! I’M A CHEATER!”
David’s face went pale. He jumped in shock, grabbing for his phone as if trying to make the noise stop. The entire restaurant turned to look at him. He fumbled with his phone and accidentally knocked over his glass of wine, spilling it everywhere.
Helen and I couldn’t contain our laughter as we watched him struggle to silence the phone, which was still loudly blaring Jasper’s accusation.
“How did you get that recording?” I asked as we drove home.
Helen gave me a wink. “I spent some quality time with Jasper yesterday. He’s a smart bird.”
The next few days were a blur of paranoia for David. Every creak of the floorboard made him jump. Every phone call sent him running out of the room, looking over his shoulder as if someone were watching him.
Helen’s plan was almost complete.
On Friday, she told me, “The plumbers are almost done with my apartment, so I’m hosting a family dinner here tomorrow night. I’ve invited the whole family.”
David’s face went ashen. “The whole family?”
“Your brothers, your cousins, even your father,” Helen confirmed. “It’s been too long since we all got together. Teresa already agreed, right?”
I smiled sweetly. “Right.”
By Saturday evening, the dining room was filled with David’s family. His brothers joked and laughed. His cousins mingled. His father, who had amicably divorced Helen years ago, chatted with everyone like it was any other normal family gathering.
David, on the other hand, was a nervous wreck. He sat rigidly in his chair, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to burst through the door at any moment.
When dinner was served, Helen stood up, her glass in hand, and tapped it with a spoon to get everyone’s attention. The room went silent.
“I just want to thank everyone for coming tonight,” she began, her voice warm and inviting. “Family is important, don’t you think? But more importantly, I want to address something that I’ve been keeping quiet for far too long.”
David froze, sweat trickling down his forehead.
Helen’s tone hardened. “I caught David cheating on his wife. And I am ashamed of him.”
A collective gasp rippled through the room. David’s face turned a sickly shade of pale.
“Mom,” he stammered, “I can explain—”
“No, David,” Helen cut him off sharply. “You don’t get to speak.”
His brother snorted in disgust, and his father shook his head slowly, disappointment etched on his face.
I stood up, my hands trembling slightly as I reached under my chair for the envelope I’d placed there earlier.
“You can keep your excuses, David,” I said, my voice steady despite my nerves. “I’m keeping my dignity.”
I dropped the divorce papers in front of him, and the room fell into stunned silence.
David stared at the papers, then at me. “Wait,” he pleaded, finally finding his voice. “Teresa, please—”
But Helen wasn’t done.
She cleared her throat loudly, drawing everyone’s attention.
“I’ve updated my will,” she announced. “Teresa and my grandchildren get my house. You, David? Not a cent.”
David’s jaw dropped. His brothers burst into laughter. His father stood up and reached across the table to pat Helen on the back.
“Smart decision, Helen,” he said approvingly.
That night, after everyone had left and David had retreated to a hotel, Helen and I sat on the porch swing, glasses of wine in hand.
“I never thought you’d take my side,” I admitted, my voice tinged with gratitude.
Helen smiled, her eyes softening. “I was wrong about you, Teresa. You’re family—he’s the one who forgot what that means.”
We clinked our glasses, looking up at the stars.
“Here’s to new beginnings,” Helen said.
“And to unexpected heroes,” I added.
