Mark and I had been married for ten years. We had two kids, a mortgage, and what I thought was a strong, unbreakable bond. Sure, our marriage wasn’t perfect. Mark wasn’t exactly a hands-on husband or father. He didn’t cook, clean, or help manage the chaos of raising kids. That was all me.
Exhausting? Absolutely. But I kept telling myself, “We’re a team, Lexie.”
Apparently, Mark had decided to join a different team altogether.
It all started with a simple grocery run.
I had just pulled into the driveway after a long, tiring trip to the store. My car was stuffed with bags, and I was mentally preparing for the solo mission of hauling everything inside. Mark, as usual, wasn’t around to help.
That’s when I heard voices coming from the porch.
I stopped, frozen in place. It was Mark, laughing and chatting with Emma, the 25-year-old daughter of our next-door neighbors. Emma had recently moved back home after finishing her interior design studies. Her parents had been so proud when she landed her internship. Now, here she was, standing on my porch with my husband, giggling like a schoolgirl.
I almost called out to say hello, but something in Mark’s voice made me pause. I ducked behind my car, hidden by shadows and heavy bags, 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. “She’s so busy with the kids and the house, Em. Lexie barely notices anything. 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 in response. “Well, lucky for you, mister, I’m here now. You can parade me around all you want. And trust me, there’s no gray hair in sight.”
Then, they kissed.
My heart stopped.
I clenched a grocery bag so tightly that the plastic stretched to the breaking point. My vision blurred with tears. I felt sick. But I didn’t cry. Not properly. Not in the way they expected me to.
Instead, I straightened my back, wiped away my tears, and carried the groceries inside through the back door. My mind was already spinning, forming a plan.
The Setup
The next morning, I woke up feeling calmer than I had in months. I made Mark breakfast—fluffy eggs, extra-crispy bacon, and a perfect cup of coffee with a dash of cinnamon, just the way he liked it. I kissed him goodbye as he left for work, smiling as if nothing had changed.
Then, I walked next door and knocked on Emma’s door.
She opened it, her eyes widening in surprise. “Oh! Hi, Mrs…um, hi, Lexie,” she stammered, forcing a bright smile.
“Hi, Emma,” I said sweetly. “I was wondering if you could come over tomorrow evening. I need some advice on something.”
Her smile faltered. “Advice? On what?”
“Well,” I hesitated, letting my voice sound uncertain, “I’ve been thinking about redecorating the living room. Your parents mentioned you studied interior design, and I thought you could help me pick out colors or furniture ideas. It’ll just take a little while.”
She tilted her head, considering. Then, a slow, knowing smile spread across her face. “Oh, I’d love to help! What time?”
“Seven should be fine—dinner time!” I said, flashing my sweetest smile. “Thanks so much, Emma. You’re a lifesaver.”
The Grand Reveal
Emma arrived right on time the next evening, dressed to impress, her confidence practically radiating from her.
I welcomed her warmly and led her inside. “Oh, before we get to the living room, I want to show you a few things.”
I guided her through the house, pointing out key areas. “Here’s the dishwasher. You’ll need to load it every night because Mark doesn’t bother. The kids’ laundry goes here, but make sure to separate the loads—they have sensitive skin.”
She frowned. “Uh…what?”
I continued cheerfully, “Here’s the schedule for their after-school activities. You’ll need to pick them up on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Wednesdays are free for errands. Oh, and I’ve written down the plumber, electrician, and pediatrician’s numbers. Just in case.”
Emma’s confident smile wavered. “Lexie, I don’t understand.”
I led her into the kitchen, where the smell of roast chicken filled the air. “This is where you’ll prep all the meals. Mark likes his steak medium-rare. The kids prefer it cooked all the way through—’the deader, the better,’ as they say.”
Emma’s face turned pale. “Lexie, I never agreed to—”
Just then, Mark walked in. He froze in place when he saw us.
“Lex, what’s going on?” he asked, his voice tight.
“Oh,” I said brightly, “I probably should have included you in this. I’m just showing Emma how to run the house. Since you think I’ve let myself go, I figured it’s time for me to focus on myself. And since she’s your ‘princess,’ she can take over my duties.” I beamed at Emma. “Good luck!”
Before they could respond, there was a knock on the door.
I opened it to reveal Emma’s parents, Anne and Howard.
“It smells amazing!” Howard said cheerfully. “I told Anne you’d be making your famous roast chicken, Lexie.”
“Thanks for coming! And thank you for raising such a helpful daughter,” I said sweetly. “She and Mark are so close now that I figured she should become part of the family.”
Anne’s smile faded. “What?”
“I’m leaving, and Emma will take over everything! You must be so proud.”
Howard’s face darkened. “Emma, tell me this isn’t true.”
Emma stammered, “It’s not what it looks like!”
Mark, panicking, blurted out, “Lexie, this isn’t fair! Emma came onto me!”
I smirked. “So, you’re saying you’re not responsible for sneaking around with a 25-year-old while insulting your wife?”
Howard turned to Emma. “We’re leaving. Now.”
Emma shot me a venomous glare before storming out. Her parents followed, muttering apologies.
Mark turned to me, desperate. “Lexie, please. Let’s talk. We’ve been together so long. You owe me a conversation.”
I tilted my head. “Don’t worry, my lawyer will call you tomorrow. For now, pack your bags and leave.”
“Where will I go?” he whined.
I shrugged. “Motel. Friend’s couch. Join the circus. Not my problem.”
The Aftermath
A week later, I heard Emma had dumped Mark. “I didn’t sign up to play mom—to him or his kids.”
Two weeks later, Mark showed up at my door with flowers. “I miss my family, Lexie. Please, let me come back.”
I smiled. “I don’t care, Mark. Goodbye.”
It’s been months, and I’ve never been happier. I’ve taken up salsa dancing, rediscovered my confidence, and built a beautiful new life with my kids.
As for Mark? He’s still single. And Emma’s parents? Let’s just say Anne sends me pies, and Howard rakes my leaves.
Karma’s a funny thing, isn’t it?
