When Sarah gets home from the usual errands with her kids, the last thing she expects is to hear her husband spilling his true feelings about her — that she is just a means to an end in his life. But Sarah isn’t about to let Ethan get away with his callous behavior. Instead, she decides to teach him a lesson.
They say marriage is built on love, trust, and respect. I thought I had all three with Ethan. For seven years, we shared a home, two kids, and what I thought was a good life.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
Sure, there were the rough patches that popped up every now and again. But honestly, what marriage doesn’t have those? We always found our way back to each other. Or so I thought.
Then, last week happened.
It started like any other day. I picked up the kids, juggling their boundless energy with the chaos of school bags and snack wrappers. When we got home, I sent them upstairs to play and headed inside to get a moment of peace before dinner prep began.
Two kids in their school uniform | Source: Midjourney
That’s when I heard it. Ethan’s voice, clear as day, drifting out of the living room.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. He had a couple of his coworkers over, so I figured they were just chatting. But as I walked closer, I caught a snippet of his conversation.
“Take a page from my book, guys,” Ethan said, his tone dripping with confidence. “I got it all figured out. I took the ugly wife for the housework and raising the kids, and I take the pretty ones on vacation. I know what I’m doing!”
A man sitting on a couch and holding a can | Source: Midjourney
I froze.
My breath hitched, and I felt the grocery bag slip from my hand. My heart pounded, and the blood rushed to my ears as my husband kept talking, oblivious to my presence.
“I mean, come on. Sarah doesn’t even realize it. She thinks I’m some kind of saint. Meanwhile, I’ve got the house, the car, and everything handed to me on a silver platter. And the best part? She’s just happy to keep everything running while I have my fun.”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
I felt sick.
My husband, the man I’d trusted with my life, was bragging about how he was using me.
To his friends.
I clutched the stair railing, struggling to stay upright.
A woman standing by a staircase | Source: Midjourney
“Wow, Ethan,” one of his coworkers said, laughing nervously. “You’re, uh, really living the dream.”
“I know, right?” Ethan replied, his voice full of disgustingly smug pride. “It’s all about playing your cards right. It’s easy, guys. I’ll coach you. Ugly wife in the left hand, pretty wife in the right.”
The word “ugly” kept ringing in my ears, like a cruel echo.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to scream, to storm into the room and demand answers. But I didn’t. Instead, I stepped back quietly and slipped upstairs, ready to get into the shower and wash away the slimy feeling that had taken over me.
That night, Ethan acted like nothing had happened. He came into the kitchen and helped me cook the salmon and broccoli, a dish that the kids loved. He even kissed me on the cheek, asked about my day, and helped put the kids to bed.
It was almost comical how oblivious he was to the storm brewing inside me.
A tray of food | Source: Midjourney
“You okay?” he asked later when I was making mugs of hot chocolate for the kids. Finally, he seemed to realize that I was quieter than usual.
I forced a smile.
“Just tired. It’s been a long day,” I said.
“Well, don’t overdo it,” he said, patting my shoulder like he was doing me a favor.
Two mugs of hot chocolate | Source: Midjourney
I nodded, biting back the urge to scream.
The next morning, I got up early, my mind racing. Ethan left for work with his usual kiss on the cheek, and I plastered on a smile as he walked out the door.
As soon as he was gone, I started planning. I wasn’t just angry. I was determined.
A man wearing a suit | Source: Midjourney
By mid-afternoon, I had everything I needed: photos of Ethan with his “pretty ones,” screenshots of flirty messages, and a few financial records that painted a very clear picture of his double life.
I sat there with my laptop, feeling like how I felt at university when I was putting an assignment together. The same looming anxiety because of a deadline. The same dread as I put things together. Like everything was riding on this. And if I’m being honest… everything was.
I had no idea how long this had been going on for, but what I wanted was to make Ethan feel pain.
A woman sitting at a laptop | Source: Midjourney
I wanted to embarrass him and break his heart. I wanted him to understand how humiliating his words were. I wanted him to grow up and realize that he wasn’t behaving like the man worthy of a wife and children, unworthy of the life we had built.
He deserved nothing.
When he came home that evening, he had no idea what was waiting for him. I hadn’t bothered to cook for him. Instead, I had taken the kids to get Chinese food and dropped them off at my mother’s.
Children holding a bag of fortune cookies | Source: Midjourney
Ethan and I were going to have a showdown.
“Hey, babe,” he said, flashing his usual smug smile. “How was your day?”
“Oh, just the usual,” I replied casually. “But I did get something special for you.”
He raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“Special? What’s the occasion? I’m the luckiest man alive, aren’t I? What’s for dinner?”
“I just felt like treating you,” I said with a sweet smile. “Come to the living room. I’ll show you.”
He followed me, curiosity plastered across his face.
“Sit, honey,” I said, gesturing for him to sit in the chair I’d placed in front of the TV. I’d even left a bowl of pretzels and a can of beer on the coffee table for him.
Beer and pretzels on a coffee table | Source: Midjourney
“What’s this about, Sarah?” he asked, still grinning.
“You’ll see!” I replied, handing him the can of beer.
I grabbed the remote and turned on the TV.
Then, the slideshow began.
A woman holding a TV remote | Source: Midjourney
At first, Ethan didn’t understand what he was seeing. The first few photos were harmless enough—scenic shots from vacations he’d taken under the guise of “business trips.”
But then the pictures shifted.
There he was, arm in arm with a woman I recognized from his Facebook friends list. Then another photo of him laughing with a different woman, drinks in hand.
A couple holding drinks | Source: Midjourney
“Sarah,” he began. “Look, I can explain.”
I held a hand up.
“Hush, honey,” I said. “Keep watching. Enjoy the show.”
More photos appeared, each one more damning than the last.
A pensive woman | Source: Midjourney
“You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?” I asked.
“Where did you get these?” he demanded, his smugness replaced by panic.
“You’re not exactly subtle, Ethan,” I replied. “But that’s not the point. The point is, I’ve put up with a lot over the years. And I’ve ignored all the red flags, much to my mother’s dismay. I’ve ignored every stupid excuse. But this? Bragging to your friends about how you’re using me? That’s a new low, even for you.”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
“Sarah, please, let’s talk about this, honey,” he pleaded, his hands actually trembling.
“Oh, we’re going to talk,” I said, stepping closer. “But first, let me introduce you to someone.”
I opened the door, and in walked my divorce lawyer.
A man in a suit | Source: Midjourney
“What the hell? Who is this?” he sputtered.
“This,” I said calmly. “This is the beginning of the end, Ethan.”
The lawyer explained the terms:
Ethan would lose the house, which was my parents’ wedding present to us. He’d lose the car, which was in my name. And most of his paycheck would go toward child support.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t do this, Sarah!” Ethan shouted, his face turning red.
“Actually, I can,” I replied. “You made your choices, Ethan. Now you get to live with them.”
The next day, Ethan packed his things and moved out. He planned on couch surfing until things “settled for him.”
A man packing a bag | Source: Midjourney
At first, he tried to win me back with apologies and promises. He swore that he would change and that he’d been “stupid” and “selfish.”
But I wasn’t interested.
“I gave you everything,” I told him during one of his desperate calls. “But you threw it away. This is on you.”
The kids and I are doing fine. They’ll ask about Ethan occasionally, and they do get excited when I take them to meet him. But at the end of the day, we’re better off this way.
Two smiling children | Source: Midjourney
Months later, I heard through a mutual friend that Ethan was struggling.
“He’s still crashing on Joshua’s couch,” she said. “Apparently, he can barely keep up with his expenses.”
And it turned out that his “pretty ones” had all disappeared, leaving him alone to face the mess he’d made.
As for me?
A man sleeping on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I was thriving. Between work and all my free time, I started taking time off for myself. I rediscovered my love for embroidery, which is something I did with my grandmother when I was a child. And I even went on a few dates.
But the best part? Seeing my kids smile, knowing that they were growing up in a home filled with love and respect.
A woman doing embroidery | Source: Midjourney
Ethan thought he’d broken me. He thought he could take and take without consequences. But in the end, the only thing he broke was himself.
And honestly? I don’t feel bad about it.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Enjoyed this story? Here’s another one for you:
My Husband Left Me and Our Toddler in Economy Class and Went to Business Himself – He Regretted It So Much in
When Claire, John, and their son, Ethan, board a flight to John’s parents, John mysteriously disappears to Business Class, leaving Claire to tackle the flight with the baby alone. But when they get to their destination, Claire’s father-in-law teaches John a lesson that he won’t forget.
About a week ago, my father-in-law really showed my husband that despite being married and having a son, he still had a lot to learn.
A couple with their toddler | Source: Midjourney
My husband, John, and I were gearing up for the long-awaited trip to his parents with our energetic two-year-old son, Ethan. John had been particularly stressed with work and kept going on about how much he needed a break.
“Claire, I can’t wait to finally relax,” John said as we packed our bags. “I just need some peace and quiet, you know?”
I smiled, though I was preoccupied with packing Ethan’s toys.
“I know, John. We all need a break. But it’ll be fun for Ethan to see his grandparents and be spoilt with their love for a bit.”
Little did I know, my husband had rather selfish plans in mind.
A woman packing suitcases | Source: Midjourney
At the airport, I was busy wrangling our toddler and managing the luggage while still trying to open a container of applesauce for Ethan. John mysteriously vanished.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Son Told Me He Bought Me a Cottage in the Countryside – But When He Took Me There, I Went Pale
My son, Michael, surprised me with a cottage in the countryside, but when we got there, I realized it was all a trick. After a while, I discovered the real reason why he did this, and I still can’t forgive him. What would you do?
Hello! My name is Richard, and I’m 68 years old. I never thought I’d be asking strangers for advice, but here I am. I need some outside perspective on this.
For some background: I’ve been a single dad for most of my adult life. My wife, Emma, passed away from cancer when our son, Michael (currently 35 years old), was just ten years old.
It was a difficult time for both of us, but we managed to pull through together.
Since then, it’s been just the two of us against the world. I did my best to be both mother and father to him, working hard to give him every opportunity I could.
Growing up, Michael was a good kid. He had his moments of rebellion, sure, but overall, he was kind, hardworking, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders.
He did well in school, went to college on a partial scholarship, and landed a good job in finance after graduation.
I’ve always been immensely proud of him, watching him grow into what I thought was a successful adult.
We remained close even after he moved out, talking on the phone regularly and having dinner together at least once a week.
That’s why what happened over a year ago came as such a shock.
It was a Tuesday evening when Michael came to my house, brimming with excitement. “Dad,” he said, “I’ve got amazing news! I bought you a cottage in the countryside!”
“A cottage? Michael, what are you talking about?“
“It’s perfect, Dad. It’s peaceful, serene, and just what you need. You’re going to love it!”
I was taken aback. Move to a cottage far from here? That seemed like too much. “Michael, you didn’t have to do that. I’m perfectly happy here.”
But he insisted! “No, Dad, you deserve it. The house you’re in now is TOO BIG FOR YOU ALONE. It’s time for a change. Trust me, this is going to be great for you.”
I have to admit, I was skeptical. The house I was living in had been our family home for over 30 years. It was where Michael grew up, where Emma and I had built our life together.
But my son seemed so excited, so sure that this was the right move. And I trusted him completely. After all, we’d always been honest with each other.
So, against my better judgment, I agreed to move and sell my house.
The next few days, I was packing and preparing to leave, while Michael handled most of the details. He assured me that everything was taken care of.
He was being so helpful that I pushed aside my lingering doubts.
Finally, the day came for us to drive to my new home. As we got in the car, Michael was chatting away about all the amenities this new place had.
But as we drove further and further from the city, I started feeling uneasy. The scenery became more and more desolate. It wasn’t woodsy or hillside.
Our familiar neighbor and the bustling streets of the city were gone and all that was left were empty, ugly fields, and even an abandoned farm.
The cottages nearby, which Michael knew I had admired and considered buying when his mother was alive, were cozy, homey places, surrounded by nature. This was the opposite.
“Michael,” I wondered, “are you sure we’re going the right way? This doesn’t look like cottage country to me.”
He assured me we were on the right track, but I noticed he wouldn’t quite meet my eyes.
After about another hour of driving, we turned onto a long, winding driveway. At the end of it stood a large, boring building.
My heart sank as I read the sign: “Sunset Haven.”
This wasn’t a cottage. It was a nursing home.
I turned to Michael, trying to quell my emotions. “What is this? What’s going on?”
“Dad,” he said, but couldn’t even look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I know I said it was a cottage, but… this is better for you. You’ll be taken care of here.”
“Taken care of? I don’t need to be taken care of! I’m perfectly capable of living on my own. Why would you lie to me?“
“Dad, please.” Michael finally turned to me, and his eyes were pleading. “You’ve been forgetting things lately. I’m worried about you living alone. This place has great facilities, and there will always be someone around if you need help.”
“Forgetting things? Everyone forgets things sometimes!” I yelled, and angry tears fell from my eyes. “This isn’t right, Michael. Take me home right now.”
Michael shook his head and dropped the real bombshell of the day. “I can’t do that, Dad. I’ve… I’ve already sold the house.”
I felt like the ground had disappeared from under me. I knew I had agreed to sell, but I had all the time in the world. I wanted to meet the new owners, pick a nice family, and hell, tell them exactly how to care for the old Elm tree in the yard.
How could he have sold it without my knowledge or consent?
I demanded answers, but Michael was evasive. He mentioned something about having power of attorney and doing what was best for me.
I shut down after that, and the next few hours were a blur.
Somehow, I ended up checked into Sunset Haven and was led to a small room with a narrow bed and a window overlooking a parking lot.
The walls were a sickly shade of beige, and the air smelled of disinfectant and old people.
My old home retained the scent of my wife’s cinnamon coffee cake, and I never changed her decor choices. My only upgrades were new appliances when needed, and Michael had given me an Alexa.
But now, this sad, clinical place was my new home.
I couldn’t do anything about it, either. I thought about Michael’s words while I spent the next few days in shock and anger. Was I so far gone that I forgot everything?
Was this the right thing? Had I caused Michael harm? Had I been diagnosed with dementia or something?
I couldn’t imagine any of that, but Michael’s parting look of guilt and concern left me dubious.
The staff at Sunset Haven were kind enough, and they tried to engage me in activities to make me feel welcome. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.
It was during an afternoon of more stewing in my feelings that I overheard a conversation that made everything even worse.
I was sitting in the common room, pretending to read a magazine, when I heard two nurses talking in hushed tones nearby.
“Poor Mr. Johnson,” one of them said. “Did you hear about his son?”
“No, what happened?”
“Apparently, he had some pretty big gambling debts. That’s why he sold his dad’s house and put him in here.”
I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Gambling debts? Was that the real reason behind all of this? Had my son sold me out, quite literally, to cover his own mistakes?
I was even more devastated.
The son I’d raised, the boy I thought I knew better than anyone, had discarded me for selfish reasons.
I thought back to all the times I’d helped him out of tight spots, all the sacrifices I’d made to give him a good life.
Luckily, fate intervened in the form of an old friend. Jack, a lawyer I’d known for years, came to Sunset Haven to visit his sister and was shocked to find me there.
When I told him what happened, he was outraged. He offered to look into the legality of what Michael had done.
It turned out that the sale of my house had been rushed, with several legal corners cut in the process. With Jack’s help, I was able to contest the sale.
After a long battle that ended with Michael having to return the money he took from the buyers and pay all the legal fees, I finally got my home back and moved out of Sunset Haven.
Now, here’s where I need advice.
My son has been trying to apologize. He showed up at my house last week, and I hardly recognized him. He looked terrible, like he hadn’t slept or eaten properly in weeks.
When I let him in, he broke down.
He told me how he’d started gambling to cope with stress at work, how things had spiraled out of control, and how he’d convinced himself that selling my house and putting me in a home was the best solution for everyone.
He swore he’d been getting help for his addiction and was committed to making things right.
“I was wrong, Dad,” he sobbed. “So wrong. Can you ever forgive me?“
Part of me wants to let bygones be bygones. He’s my son, and we only have each other in this world. But another part of me is still so angry and hurt.
How can I trust him again after what he did? He lied to me, manipulated me, and stole my home to cover up his own mistakes.
Even if he’s truly sorry now, how do I know he won’t do something like this again in the future?
What would you do in my place?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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