Ever since we announced my pregnancy, Avery—my husband’s female best friend—has been overwhelming us with advice we never asked for. At first, I brushed it off, but when she insisted on hosting my baby shower, I knew I had to put an end to her controlling behavior. I was sick of her constant interference. That’s when I decided to teach her a lesson she would never forget.
My husband, Scott, works as a food safety auditor. Avery, his so-called best friend, is a nutritionist. They met at work and clicked instantly because they were both in the health field. Before I came along, they were practically inseparable.
At first, I actually liked Avery. We bonded over music, career struggles, and weekend get-togethers. She was funny and charming, and I was glad Scott had a good friend. For a while, she really did feel like part of our circle.
But everything changed the day we announced our pregnancy.
When Scott and I shared the big news on social media, Avery was one of the first people to comment. “Congratulations! You two are going to be amazing parents!” she wrote. It looked sweet and genuine—but soon after, the flood of “advice” began.
Every single day, she texted Scott with recommendations about food, supplements, exercises, and even which baby products we “absolutely needed.” It felt like she thought she was the third parent.
One evening, Scott handed me his phone with a sigh. “Jean, look at this. Avery just sent me another list. She’s saying we need to switch to organic everything.”
I rolled my eyes. “Scott, she’s going too far. We don’t need her micromanaging every choice we make.”
He looked torn. “I know, but she means well. Do you want me to say something?”
“No,” I said firmly, placing the phone down. “She’s not the one carrying this baby. Ignore it.”
But ignoring her didn’t work. Avery’s texts became more frequent, more critical, and more invasive.
On social media, she was the perfect supportive friend, leaving cheerful comments on my posts. But privately? She bombarded Scott with nitpicking messages.
If I posted a photo of my lunch, she’d text Scott: “Jean shouldn’t be eating that. She needs more folic acid.”
One afternoon, Scott showed me a text that made my blood boil. “Jean should avoid caffeine entirely. It’s not good for the baby.”
“Can you believe this?” he asked, frustration showing in his voice.
“I’m done with her constant nagging,” I snapped. “This has to stop.”
But Avery didn’t stop. In fact, she escalated.
As I planned my baby shower with my mom and sister, Avery texted me out of nowhere. “Hey Jean! I’d love to host your shower. I already have so many ideas!”
I took a deep breath before replying. “Thanks, Avery, but my mom and sister are already handling it. I appreciate your offer.”
I thought that would be the end of it. I was wrong.
The very next day, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to find Avery standing there, arms stacked with decorations, sample menus, and even a binder.
“Surprise! I brought everything we need for the baby shower!” she beamed, brushing past me like she owned the place.
“Avery, I told you, my mom and sister are taking care of it,” I said sharply.
“But I already planned everything!” she argued, her tone almost scolding. “Trust me, Jean, I know what’s best for you and the baby.”
She spread everything across my dining table: pastel decorations, eco-friendly party favors, a list of organic catering options, and even a gluten-free, sugar-free cake order.
“I even made a playlist,” she announced proudly. “It’s calming music—perfect for the baby.”
I stared at her in disbelief. “Avery, this isn’t your responsibility. My family wants to do this.”
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “Jean, I just want everything to be perfect for you. You deserve the best, and I can make that happen.”
That was it. Enough was enough.
I nodded and pretended to agree, smiling while she laid out her “vision.” But in my head, I was already hatching a plan. She wanted to host a shower? Fine. I’d let her plan her little party—only no one would be there. My real shower would be somewhere else, with the people who truly mattered.
The day of the baby shower came. Avery had gone all out at our house—balloons, flowers, banners, a ridiculous sugar-free cake. Through the security cameras linked to my phone, I could see her fussing over every detail. The place looked perfect.
But it was empty. No guests. Just Avery.
Meanwhile, I was at a cozy café across town, surrounded by love, laughter, and all the people who mattered to me. My mom and sister had pulled off the most beautiful shower I could have dreamed of.
We played games, opened gifts, and laughed until my cheeks hurt. At one point, I took a polaroid of the whole group, tucked it into a small box along with a cupcake, and sent it off with a delivery guy—straight to Avery.
I snuck into the bathroom to watch her reaction on the camera feed.
When the delivery man handed her the box, Avery looked confused. She opened it, pulled out the photo and the cupcake, and read the note:
“We know you’re enjoying your dietary options, just wanted to share.”
Her face turned beet red. She slammed the box shut, pacing like a caged animal. I could almost hear her screech from miles away.
Moments later, my phone buzzed. Avery was calling. I ignored it. This was my day, not hers.
Later that evening, after the real party was over and Scott and I were cleaning up at home, there was a furious pounding on the door.
I opened it to find Avery, her face twisted with rage.
“How could you do this to me?” she screamed, storming inside. “I worked so hard on that shower, and you just… abandoned it!”
I stood my ground. “Avery, this wasn’t about you. It was about celebrating our baby. You’ve been overstepping for months. Enough is enough. No more advice, no more controlling. Respect our boundaries.”
Avery froze, her eyes darting to Scott. “You… you told her about the texts?”
“Of course, I did,” Scott said firmly. “Why would I hide that?”
Avery’s face crumpled. She muttered under her breath, “I thought it would work…”
I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean, work?”
Her voice shook as she confessed, “I thought if Scott followed all my advice, it would annoy you. I thought it would push you two apart.”
Scott’s jaw dropped. “Why would you do that?”
Tears filled her eyes. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years, Scott! I thought if I stayed close, maybe one day you’d see me instead of her.”
The room went silent. My heart pounded, waiting for Scott’s response.
He looked at her with a mixture of shock and pity. “Avery, I’m sorry. But my heart belongs to Jean. It always has, and it always will. You need to let this go.”
She broke down, sobbing. “Please, Scott! Just give us a chance. I can’t stand watching you with her!”
Scott’s voice was calm but firm. “Avery, no. Jean is my wife. She’s the mother of my child. If you can’t respect that, then you can’t be in our lives anymore.”
Avery let out a strangled cry before running out, slamming the door behind her. Her sobs echoed down the street until there was nothing but silence.
Scott wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?”
Tears of relief streamed down my face. “I am now. Thank you for standing up for us.”
He kissed my forehead. “Jean, I’ll always stand by you. You and our baby are my everything.”
That night, we talked for hours, strengthening our bond and setting new boundaries to protect our family.
Months later, when I held our healthy baby in my arms, I knew the ordeal with Avery had only made us stronger. She was no longer part of our lives, but Scott and I were closer than ever—ready to face the future together as a family.