Lexie doesn’t react when her husband and neighbor’s daughter discuss their affair.
She plans instead. She retaliates for their betrayal with a cunning invitation and a startling turn of events. Never before has revenge been so delicious.
I thought my life was steady after ten years of marriage, two kids, and a mortgage. I managed work, kids, cooking, cleaning, and everything else while Mark never assisted. But I told myself, “It’s okay. As a team.”
Except Mark played for another squad.
Last week, I returned from a long supermarket run. As I carried my bags, I heard Mark and Emma, our 25-year-old neighbor’s daughter, on the porch. My name came up as they laughed. My instinct prompted me to hide and listen.
“I can’t believe she hasn’t figured it out yet,” Emma chuckled.
Mark chuckled. “She’s preoccupied with kids and housework. She no longer resembles a woman. You’re better, princess.”
So they kissed.
I stood there transfixed, clutching the grocery bags, angry and humiliated, yet calm. I didn’t address them. I silently entered through the back entrance and strategized.
I drove straight to Emma’s place the next morning after kissing Mark goodbye with a smile. I welcomed her pleasantly when she opened the door. Emma, I need your help. Could you visit tomorrow night? I want to redecorate the living room, and you’ve studied design.”
Totally unaware, she smiled. Of course! What time should I visit?
I smiled back, hiding my genuine intentions. “Seven works perfectly.”
She had no idea what was ahead.
Emma arrived polished the next night. I politely invited her in.
While showing her around the house, I stopped at each area to explain it.
This is the dishwasher. You must load and run it every night—Mark never does. Please separate colors and whites when washing the kids’ clothes in this area because some detergents can irritate their skin.”
She glanced at me, unsure how to answer.
“Oh, and here’s the schedule for all their after-school activities,” I handed her a color-coded chart. Wednesdays are free for errands, but Tuesdays and Thursdays are pick-up days. Also, I wrote down the plumber, electrician, and pediatrician’s numbers in case you need them.”
Her confident smile faded into a pale, nervous face.
“And this,” I added, ushering her into the kitchen smelling of roast chicken, “is where you’ll do all the cooking. You have to manage breakfasts, packed lunches for school and work, snacks, dinners, and desserts. By the way, Mark likes his steak medium-rare, but the kids? They only eat it if it’s fried to a rock-hard consistency.”
Her composure collapsed as she gasped.
“And don’t expect Mark to say thank you,” I said, lightly but pointedly. “Gratitude isn’t his forte. I know the kids are picky eaters, but you’ll figure it out.”
Just then, Mark entered. His cheeks paled at our sight.
“Lex, what’s up?” He inquired, shaking.
“Oh, Mark!” I replied brightly. “I was teaching Emma everything she needs to do around the house. I decided to focus on myself. Maybe I should find someone who treats me like a princess.”
I smiled at Emma and said, “Good luck with everything! You need it.”v
A knock at the door interrupted them.
Anna and Howard, Emma’s parents, were standing there when I opened it. They had regularly babysat my kids when I needed them.
Anne and Howard, thanks for coming. I smiled and said, “Thank you for raising such a thoughtful daughter.” “She and Mark are so close that I decided to officially welcome her into the family.”
“What are you discussing?” Anne inquired, confused.
“I’m leaving,” I remarked lightly, “and Emma will take over. You must be proud of her initiative!”
Anne spoke to Emma in disbelief. Emma, tell me this is false. Dispel this illusion.”
Emma blushed and stammered, “It’s not—It’s not what it looks like!”
Mark, naturally, tried to escape.
“This is unfair, Lexie! Emma started! She grabbed me!” His voice grew desperate as he protested.
Oh, she did? I answered calmly, raising my eyebrow. “So, you’re claiming you had no responsibility for sneaking around with a 25-year-old and disrespecting your wife?”
Emma gazed at me, furious, before storming away. Her parents ran after her, mumbling excuses.
Mark looked back at me, obviously scared.
“Please Lexie,” he begged. “Can we talk? You owe me so much after so long together, right?
I smiled coldly, bittersweetly. “Oh, don’t worry, Mark,” I said. We’ll talk—through my lawyer. He’ll call tomorrow. But for now, pack and leave.”
Emma dumped Mark a week later, according to mutual friends.
Two weeks later, Mark crawled back, pleading for another chance. I was beyond caring.
Now months after that fateful night, I feel more alive than ever. I found bits of myself I believed were lost forever. Salsa dancing restored my confidence, happiness, and freedom.
As for Mark? Currently single. According to my sources, Emma’s parents dislike her too. Strangely, Anne now bakes pies and cakes for me regularly, while Howard rakes my yard leaves.
Yes, karma. It has its way, right?
