When Lexie overhears her husband and the neighbor’s daughter discussing their affair, she doesn’t cry or confront them. Instead, she plans. With a clever invitation and a jaw-dropping twist, she flips the script on their betrayal, serving up karma with a side of sass.
Revenge has never been this satisfying. My husband, Mark, and I had been married for ten years. Two kids, a mortgage, and what I thought was a solid life bound us together.
Sure, Mark wasn’t much help around the house. He didn’t cook, clean, or manage the endless chaos of raising kids. That was all me.
Exhausting? Absolutely. But I told myself it was fine because “we’re a team, Lexie.”
Except, apparently, Mark had decided to join a different team altogether.
It started with a bag of groceries. I had just pulled into the driveway after a grueling trip to the store. My car was packed with heavy bags and I was mentally preparing for the solo effort of hauling everything inside.
Mark, as usual, wouldn’t lift a finger. That’s when I heard voices coming from the porch. It was Mark, chatting with Emma, our neighbor’s 25-year-old daughter who’d recently moved back to town.
Her parents were so proud when she got into her internship after she studied interior design. Now, she and Mark stood there laughing like old friends. I almost called out to say hello, but something made me stop.
I ducked behind my car, hidden by the shadows and groceries, and listened. “I can’t believe she hasn’t figured it out yet,” Emma said, her laughter ringing through the cool afternoon air. Mark chuckled in response.
“She’s so busy with the kids and the house, Em. Lexie barely notices anything else. She’s gotten so gray, too.
But she just brushes her hair the other way to cover it up. Honestly, she’s let herself go so much. She doesn’t even look like a woman to me anymore.
She’s nothing compared to you, my princess.”
Emma giggled. “Well, lucky for you, mister, I’m here now. You can parade me all your want.
And trust me, there’s no gray hair in sight.”
Then they kissed. Kissed?! I clutched a bag so tightly that I could feel the plastic starting to tear.
My vision blurred with tears, the humiliation and rage coursing through me. They continued their conversation, the shameless flirting, all oblivious to my presence. But other than those few tears, I didn’t cry properly.
I didn’t scream or shout. I didn’t confront them. Instead, I quietly carried the groceries inside, using the back door, and started my planning.
The next morning, I woke up with a calmness that surprised even me. I made Mark breakfast, his eggs fluffy and the bacon extra crispy. I made his coffee with a dash of cinnamon, just the way he liked it.
I kissed him goodbye and waved cheerfully as he left for work. Once he was gone, I walked next door and knocked on Emma’s door. She opened it, visibly surprised.
“Oh! Hi, Mrs…Um, hi, Lexie,” she stammered, her smile overly bright. “Hi, Emma,” I said warmly.
“I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow evening. I could really use your advice on something.”
She blinked, her smile faltering. “Advice?
On what?”
“Well,” I hesitated, letting my voice sound unsure. “I’ve been thinking about redecorating the living room. Your parents mentioned you studied design, and I thought you could help pick out colors or furniture ideas.
It’ll just take a little while.”
For a moment, doubt flickered in her eyes. Then she tilted her head, a sly smile forming. “Oh, I’d love to help!
What time?”
“I think seven will be fine? Dinner time!” I said, my own smile sweet and sincere. “Thanks so much, Emma.
You’re a lifesaver.”
Emma showed up the next evening, dressed to impress. She greeted me with her usual cheerful demeanor, practically radiating confidence. I welcomed her warmly and led her inside.
“Oh, before we get to the living room,” I said casually. “I wanted to show you a few things.”
I guided her though the house, pointing out key areas of domestic responsibility. “Here’s the dishwasher.
You’ll need to load it every night because Mark doesn’t bother, of course. The kids’ laundry goes here, but please, be sure to separate the loads, since they’re sensitive to different detergents.”
She just stared at me. “Oh, and here’s the schedule for their after-school activities.
You’ll need to pick them up on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but Wednesdays are free for errands. I’ve written down the plumber, electrician, and pediatrician’s numbers. Just in case.”
Emma’s smile faltered, her face growing pale.
“And this,” I said, leading her into the kitchen, where the smell of a roast chicken filled the room. “This is where you’ll prep all the meals. And let me tell you, other than the breakfasts, and different school and work lunches, there are snacks and desserts and it’s all just a lot.
Mark likes his steak medium-rare, by the way. The kids will only eat steak if it’s cooked all the way through. The deader the better.”
She gasped.
“Don’t expect Mark to say thank you, manners are not his thing. The kids are picky eaters, I’m sorry to say, but you’ll figure it out.”
She stared at me, wide-eyed. “Uh, Lexie.
I’m not sure… I don’t think… I didn’t offer to babysit them.”
Just then, Mark walked in. His face went pale the moment he saw us. “Lex, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice tight and high-pitched.
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