Ao ver meu marido com uma jovem loira na piscina, eu estava pronta para confrontá-lo e exigir respostas. Mal sabia eu, o drama que se desenrolaria não só revelaria sua traição, mas também levaria a uma série de eventos que destruiriam nossa vida aparentemente perfeita.
Meu nome é Lisa. Sou casada com Tom há quatro anos. Tom trabalha em um escritório, tem um bom cargo e ganha um ótimo salário. Temos uma casa legal, dois carros e um cachorro chamado Max. Por fora, nossa vida parece perfeita. Mas hoje, as coisas mudaram.
Um casal feliz e um cachorro | Fonte: Pexels
Era meu dia de folga, então decidi fazer café da manhã para Tom. Enquanto eu estava virando panquecas, Tom entrou na cozinha, já parecendo estressado.
“Bom dia, Tom. O café da manhã está quase pronto”, eu disse, tentando soar alegre.
“Bom dia”, ele murmurou, mal olhando para mim.
Nós nos sentamos para comer, e foi aí que começou. Algo trivial, na verdade. Ele não gostou que eu tivesse usado o último dos mirtilos.
“Você sabe que eu gosto de mirtilos, Lisa”, Tom disse um pouco duramente.
Panquecas com mirtilos | Fonte: Midjourney
“Bem, você poderia ter me dito que estávamos fora”, respondi, tentando manter a calma.
A discussão aumentou rapidamente, como acontecia frequentemente ultimamente. Tom terminou seu café da manhã em silêncio, pegou sua pasta e foi em direção à porta.
“Vejo você mais tarde”, ele disse sem um pingo de afeição.
“Sim, mais tarde”, respondi, sentindo-me chateado e frustrado.
Um homem zangado | Fonte: Pexels
Depois que Tom foi embora, sentei-me à mesa, olhando para as panquecas meio comidas. Senti uma mistura de raiva e tristeza. Nossas discussões estavam se tornando mais frequentes, e isso estava me desgastando.
Não querendo desperdiçar meu dia me sentindo infeliz, liguei para minha melhor amiga, May.
“Ei, May. Quer ir à piscina hoje? Preciso de uma distração”, eu disse, tentando soar otimista.
“Claro, Lisa! Vamos nos encontrar na minha casa em uma hora,” ela respondeu com seu entusiasmo habitual.
Eu me arrumei e dirigi até a casa de May. O sol estava brilhando, e eu esperava que um dia na piscina levantasse meu ânimo.
Uma mulher de camisa amarela dirigindo | Fonte: Pexels
A piscina estava cheia de famílias e grupos de amigos aproveitando o dia ensolarado. May e eu encontramos um lugar perto da água e nos acomodamos. Pedimos pizza e começamos a conversar sobre tudo e nada.
“Era exatamente disso que eu precisava”, eu disse, finalmente começando a relaxar.
“Eu também. Nada como um dia de piscina para sacudir a tristeza”, May respondeu, com seu sorriso contagiante.
Uma mulher na piscina | Fonte: Pexels
Estávamos rindo de uma velha lembrança do ensino médio quando o vi. A cerca de 20 metros de distância, estava Tom, descansando em uma espreguiçadeira. Mas ele não estava sozinho. Uma jovem loira estava com ele, sua mão apoiada na dele.
“May, olha aquilo”, eu disse, com a voz trêmula enquanto os apontava.
“Meu Deus, Lisa. Isso é…?” A voz de May sumiu.
“É. Esse é o Tom. E quem é essa loira?”, perguntei, minha raiva fervendo.
Um homem de meia idade com sua namorada | Fonte: Midjourney
Tom parecia tão relaxado, tão confortável, sua mão na dela como se não tivessem nenhuma preocupação no mundo. Senti uma mistura de traição e raiva.
“Não acredito nisso. Preciso fazer alguma coisa”, eu disse, levantando-me.
“Espere, Lisa. Pense bem nisso,” May advertiu, agarrando meu braço.
Mas eu estava além do pensamento. Enquanto observava a cena se desenrolar, meu primeiro instinto foi marchar e confrontar Tom. Meu coração batia forte no peito e minhas mãos tremiam de raiva. Assim que dei um passo à frente, um rapaz jovem e atarracado chegou antes de mim. Ele parecia ter cerca de 22 anos e se movia com um senso de propósito.
Um homem furioso em uma piscina | Fonte: Midjourney
“Ei! O que diabos você pensa que está fazendo?” o rapaz gritou, agarrando Tom pelo colarinho e prendendo-o na espreguiçadeira. A loira gritou e pulou para trás.
O rosto de Tom empalideceu. “E-eu posso explicar!” ele gaguejou.
“Explicar o quê? Que você está se metendo com a minha namorada?” o cara cuspiu, apertando mais forte.
Os olhos de Tom se arregalaram de medo. “Por favor, não vamos fazer uma cena. Eu pago você. Quanto você quer?” ele implorou, sua voz tremendo.
Um homem assustado em uma cadeira de praia | Fonte: Midjourney
O jovem pareceu enojado. “Você acha que pode comprar sua saída disto?” Ele levantou o punho, pronto para atacar.
Fiquei ali, uma mistura de raiva e diversão borbulhando dentro de mim. Peguei meu telefone e comecei a filmar. Isso era bom demais para perder.
A voz de Tom era um gemido. “Por favor, não me bata. Sinto muito!”
A expressão do jovem mudou de raiva para pena. Ele soltou Tom com um empurrão. “Você não vale a pena.”
Um homem loiro zangado | Fonte: Midjourney
Tom caiu de volta na espreguiçadeira, parecendo patético. Parei de filmar e caminhei até lá, sentindo uma estranha sensação de satisfação.
“Lisa, não é o que parece”, Tom começou, com a voz trêmula.
“Ah, é mesmo? Então você não estava só ficando íntimo de outra mulher?” Eu rebati, segurando meu telefone. “Eu tenho tudo em vídeo.”
Seu rosto caiu. “Lisa, por favor. Vamos conversar sobre isso.”
Um homem chocado perto de uma piscina | Fonte: Midjourney
“Não há nada para conversar. Terminamos. Estou me divorciando de você”, eu disse, minha voz fria e firme. No entanto, a história não terminou ali.
A viagem para casa foi silenciosa. Tom continuou olhando para mim, mas eu me recusei a olhar para ele. Minha mente estava tomada. Não havia como voltar atrás. Olhei pela janela, tentando processar tudo o que tinha acontecido. A traição, o confronto, a humilhação pública — tudo parecia surreal.
Um casal dirigindo | Fonte: Pexels
Em casa, Tom finalmente quebrou o silêncio. “Lisa, me desculpe. Prometo que isso nunca mais vai acontecer”, ele disse, sua voz suplicante, quase desesperada. Seus olhos estavam vermelhos, e ele parecia prestes a chorar.
Cruzei os braços, mantendo-me firme. “Não me importo. Você me traiu, Tom. Você destruiu qualquer confiança que tínhamos.”
“Por favor, Lisa. Podemos resolver isso”, ele insistiu, chegando mais perto, mas eu recuei. O espaço entre nós parecia um abismo que nunca poderia ser transposto.
Uma mulher furiosa | Fonte: Midjourney
“Não, Tom. Terminei. Não há chance de perdão”, respondi, minha determinação inabalável. A mágoa e a raiva borbulhavam dentro de mim, fazendo minha voz tremer.
O desespero de Tom rapidamente se transformou em raiva. “Sério? Isso é tudo culpa sua!” ele gritou, seu rosto se contorcendo de raiva. “Você ficou tão sério e distante. Você me empurrou para isso!”
Olhei para ele, incrédula. “Você está me culpando pela sua infidelidade? Inacreditável.”
“Sim! Você não é a mesma pessoa com quem me casei. Você me afastou!” ele acusou, sua voz aumentando. “Você me fez sentir indesejado, Lisa. O que você esperava?”
Um homem gritando com raiva | Fonte: Midjourney
Eu não conseguia acreditar no que estava ouvindo. O homem que uma vez prometeu me amar e cuidar de mim agora estava ali, me culpando por sua própria traição. Essa foi a gota d’água. Peguei meu telefone e abri o vídeo. Com alguns toques, enviei para seu chefe. “Bem, vamos ver o que seu chefe acha sobre sua filha estar neste vídeo”, eu disse, clicando em enviar.
Os olhos de Tom se arregalaram de horror. “Lisa, não! Você não pode fazer isso!” ele gritou, pegando meu telefone, mas era tarde demais. O dano estava feito.
Uma mulher furiosa enviando uma mensagem de texto | Fonte: Midjourney
A repercussão foi imediata. No dia seguinte, Tom foi demitido. Seu chefe ficou furioso com o escândalo envolvendo sua filha. Tom voltou para casa parecendo derrotado e quebrado. Ele tentou me implorar novamente, mas eu estava resoluto.
A vida de Tom desmoronou, mas eu senti uma estranha sensação de libertação. Pedi o divórcio, pronta para seguir em frente e reconstruir minha vida. Pela primeira vez em muito tempo, me senti forte e independente. Percebi que estava carregando o peso do nosso casamento problemático sozinha por muito tempo.
Documentos de divórcio | Fonte: Pexels
A traição de Tom havia quebrado nosso casamento, mas também me libertou. Agora, eu poderia começar de novo sem o peso de suas mentiras e enganos. Eu ansiava por me redescobrir, por encontrar a felicidade em meus próprios termos. O futuro era incerto, mas pela primeira vez em muito tempo, eu me sentia esperançosa.
Este bolo de $ 30 destruiu meu casamento – meu marido desmoronou no meio de sua festa de aniversário
Na animada comemoração de aniversário de Tom, uma entrega de bolo aparentemente inocente inesperadamente transformou a atmosfera de festiva em gelada. Quando o bolo foi revelado, revelando um segredo chocante, a sala caiu em um silêncio atordoado enquanto a traição de Tom era exposta para amigos e familiares.
Eu estava correndo pela casa, certificando-me de que tudo estava perfeito para a festa de aniversário do Tom. Balões flutuavam nos cantos, e serpentinas pendiam do teto, adicionando toques de cor em todos os lugares.
A sala de jantar | Fonte: Midjourney
A sala de estar fervilhava de risadas e conversas enquanto os primeiros convidados começavam a chegar, trazendo consigo o cheiro quente e reconfortante de pratos caseiros e o som de saudações alegres.
Enquanto arrumava a mesa de lanches, a campainha tocou. Limpei as mãos no avental e corri para atender. Um entregador estava lá, segurando uma caixa grande com um alegre adesivo de “Feliz Aniversário!” colado na lateral.
Quer saber o que aconteceu depois? Clique aqui para ler o resto da história.
Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.
My Brother & His Fiancée Hired Me to Make Their Wedding Cake — They Refused to Pay, So Our Grandma Got the Perfect Payback
When Emily bakes her heart into her brother’s wedding cake, she expects gratitude, not betrayal. But when payment turns into a family scandal, it’s Grandma Margaret who serves the real justice. In a world where passion is mistaken for obligation, Emily learns that respect is the sweetest ingredient of them all.
You learn a lot about people when cake and money are involved.
I’m Emily, 25, and I love to bake. I work in a bakery, making cakes for every occasion. Growing up, it was just a hobby but the more I learned, the more my passion grew. Cakes became my love language.
Birthdays, holidays, breakups, random Tuesdays: cake is always the answer.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
I’ve been piping frosting roses since I was sixteen and built a little Instagram following along the way. Which is how I landed my job in a bakery.
“You want to work in a bakery, Emily?” my father had asked. “Seriously?”
“It’s for now,” I said in return. “It’s just for me to learn and work my way up. I’m going to save money as well. I’m going to culinary school, Dad. One way or another.”
“This is a hobby, Emily,” he retorted. “You’ll learn that one day when you need help paying your bills.”
A close up of a frowning man | Source: Midjourney
Still, I had the support of the rest of my family and to sweeten the deal with them, I had never charged my family for personal, small bakes. It’s just something that I didn’t do, unless they came in through the bakery, of course. Anything through the bakery is business. Strictly.
But they always gave me a little something. Gift cards. Flowers. Sometimes a few folded notes tucked into my apron pocket. It was sweet. It felt… respectful almost.
A vase of flowers on a table | Source: Midjourney
Then my little brother, Adam, got engaged to Chelsea.
And everything changed before my eyes.
They were 23. A bit too young for marriage in my humble opinion but I didn’t want to voice my concerns.
A smiling couple | Source: Midjourney
“They’ll think you’re bitter because you’re single, honey,” my mother said over pizza and wine one night.
“But I’m not! I’m just genuinely concerned, Mom,” I replied, picking the olives off my slice.
“I know, sweetheart,” she agreed. “I am, too. But Adam’s convinced that Chelsea is the one for him. Let’s see how that ends up. Look, I think she’s high maintenance, but it’s clear that she loves him. That’s enough for me.”
If it was enough for my mother, then it was enough for me.
A box of pizza and a bottle of wine | Source: Midjourney
But at 23, they were all Pinterest boards and highlighter pens, planning a wedding that looked like a lifestyle influencer’s fever dream. When they asked me to make their wedding cake, I said yes.
Of course, I did. I wanted to. I was proud.
But I had to be realistic with them, too.
“This isn’t a birthday cake, guys,” I said. “It’s three tiers. For 75 guests. The ingredients alone are going to cost me. I won’t do it through the bakery because the price will be insane. So, I’m going to do it at home.”
A woman sitting at a kitchen table | Source: Midjourney
“That’s totally fair,” Adam said, looping his arm around Chelsea. “Of course, you’ll be compensated, Em.”
I quoted them $400. And honestly, if they had come through the bakery, it would have easily been $1200 at least.
They agreed.
“But I’ll do a taste-test at the bakery,” I said, pouring cups of tea. “That way you guys can get the full experience and decide on a final flavor. Deal?”
A cup of tea on a table | Source: Midjourney
“Deal,” Chelsea said tightly. “I do want to have the full bridal experience, and this is one of them. I was worried that you’d choose the flavor instead.”
I was frowning on the inside. Which respectful baker would just choose a flavor without consulting her clients? I chose to smile and push a plate of fresh eclairs toward them.
A woman sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney
A week later, they came into the bakery for a tasting. The space smelled like vanilla and lemon glaze when they walked in. I’d prepped everything. Three sample plates, fresh linen and even a cinnamon-scented candle.
It was the most effort I’d ever put into family.
“Whoa, Em,” Adam grinned. “This looks fancy. So, this is how everyone else gets the Emily-treatment?”
The interior of a bakery | Source: Midjourney
“I didn’t know you did it like this,” Chelsea nodded, her delicate fingers adjusting her blouse.
“I wanted you to feel like clients,” I said, trying not to sound nervous. “Because… you are.”
My boss let me use the space for tasting as long as I handled the costs.
They tried the chocolate raspberry. All it got was polite nods. They tried the lemon lavender and exchanged a glance.
A woman standing in a bakery | Source: Midjourney
But when they bit into the strawberry shortcake, their expressions changed.
Adam actually closed his eyes.
“Okay… that’s delicious!” he exclaimed.
Chelsea licked a bit of cream from her lip.
“It’s nostalgic, Emily. Like whipped cream summers. It’s perfect.”
A cake square on a white plate | Source: Midjourney
They chose it for all three tiers.
And in that moment, I thought that maybe they really saw me. That they recognized my talent. And maybe this wedding would pull us closer.
I sent them numerous sketches so that they could be involved in every aspect of the process.
I baked for three days straight. I decorated the cake in the early hours of the wedding morning. I even drove the cake to the venue myself. It was the most intricate thing I’d ever done.
Cake sketches on a page | Source: Midjourney
Three tiers, whipped mascarpone, fresh strawberries glazed in honey. I set it up with trembling hands and a heart full of pride.
And then they took it. Smiled. Thanked me.
And never paid.
At first, I thought that it was okay. That we’d deal with it after the wedding. I mean, I didn’t really expect them to hand me the cash then and there.
But a little reassurance would have been nice.
A beautiful wedding cake | Source: Midjourney
I discovered the truth ten minutes later, when Adam cornered me near the bar, his voice low and tight.
“Emily, you’re seriously expecting us to pay you? For cake? I heard you telling Mom that you’re expecting it.”
“Yes?” I blinked.
“But you never charge family,” he said simply, like I was stupid.
“This isn’t a batch of birthday cupcakes, Adam.”
A pensive groom | Source: Midjourney
Chelsea slipped beside him, her tone glossy and fake, just like her hair extensions.
“It’s a wedding gift. We thought you’d understand. Just let it go,” Chelsea said, winking. “Be generous, sister-in-law. It’s family.”
I stood there, stunned.
It was funny because someone had overheard the entire thing.
A close up of a bride | Source: Midjourney
Grandma Margaret.
She’s the kind of woman who wears pearls to the grocery store and could end a war with a single look. When she speaks, everyone listens.
Dinner had ended, the buffet clearing out as the reception hall silenced. Speeches began. The mic passed from best man to maid of honor. Then, casually, Grandma stood.
A wedding buffet | Source: Midjourney
She smiled as she took the mic, glass of champagne in her hand, her eyes sharp.
“I’ve always dreamed of giving my grandchildren something special for their honeymoons,” she began. “For Adam and Chelsea, I had something wonderful planned. The idea came to me at their Greek God-inspired engagement party. An all-expenses-paid trip to Greece!”
The room erupted.
Chelsea gasped. Adam’s mouth dropped open.
Grandma raised a finger.
An older woman at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
“But now, I have no choice but to reconsider my decision.”
Silence took over.
She turned slowly. She looked at me and smiled gently. Then she looked at the cake.
“I believe that generosity should be met with gratitude. Especially within a family,” she said.
An older woman giving a speech | Source: Midjourney
People shifted in their seats. I knew most of them wanted the speeches to be done, they were ready for the dessert buffet and the music.
“I think you all know why,” she continued.
She handed her mic back with a polite smile and sipped her glass of champagne like she hadn’t just set the room on fire.
A glass of champagne | Source: Midjourney
I didn’t see Adam again until sunset, the light bleeding into soft amber across the reception lawn. I’d stepped outside, away from the clinking glasses, the sugar-high flower girls and the noisy music.
I just wanted to sit on a bench and let the breeze cool me down. The anger had started to wear off but the ache in my chest remained. It was like something I hadn’t known was fragile had finally cracked inside me.
Even I couldn’t pinpoint what it was.
A woman sitting outside | Source: Midjourney
Adam.
My baby brother, the kid who used to sit on the kitchen counter licking beaters while I piped frosting flowers. He looked wrecked, tie askew, forehead damp, lips pressed tight.
He had an envelope in his hand, already crumpled like he’d been squeezing it too hard.
“Em,” he said, his eyes darting around. “Wait.”
A groom standing outside | Source: Midjourney
I turned but I didn’t speak.
He thrust the envelope at me like it burned his fingers.
“Here,” he said. “It’s the $400… plus a little extra. I didn’t know how to push back, Em. Chelsea got so excited about calling it a ‘gift,’ and I didn’t want to start our marriage with a fight. But it didn’t sit right.”
“You just thought that I wouldn’t stand up for myself,” I said, my voice low and even.
A close up of a woman sitting on a bench | Source: Midjourney
He flinched. His shoulders sank.
I saw it then, not just guilt, but fear. Not of me. Of what being married to someone like Chelsea might cost me.
“No, that’s not… It wasn’t like that, Emily.”
“You agreed to pay me,” I said. “I gave you a discount, Adam. A huge one! I spent three days in my kitchen working myself sick. And you took it like it was owed to you.”
A groom with his hand in his hair | Source: Midjourney
“Chelsea said…” he looked at the ground. “I mean, we thought… family doesn’t charge family.”
“That’s funny,” I said. “Because you were both happy to treat me like a vendor until the bill came.”
I saw it then, the flicker of shame behind his eyes. Not just because he got caught. Because he knew I was right.
Chelsea appeared behind him a second later, her heels clicking like punctuation. She looked picture-perfect until you got close. Her mascara was smudged. Her smile was too tight.
A close up of a bride standing outside | Source: Midjourney
“Emily,” she said, in that performative, high-pitched tone she used when she was trying to charm her way out of trouble. “Seriously, it was just a misunderstanding. We didn’t mean to make you feel like you weren’t appreciated.”
I laughed, short and cold.
“You didn’t make me feel anything. You showed me exactly where I stood.”
“I didn’t think it would matter this much. I mean, you love baking,” she blinked, eyes glossy.
A frowning woman sitting outside | Source: Midjourney
“I do,” I said. “Which is why it hurts more. You didn’t just take money from me. You took respect. You treated my passion and my career like a party favor.”
Chelsea opened her mouth to argue. Then closed it. Her eyes flicked to the envelope in my hand.
There was $500 inside. No note. No apology. Just cash. Just damage control.
A woman holding a small crumpled envelope | Source: Midjourney
“I’m glad Grandma doesn’t see ‘family’ the way you do,” I said, slipping the envelope into my purse. “Because if she did, I’d have nothing left.”
Adam looked like he wanted to say something, anything, but couldn’t find the words. So he just stood there, hands stuffed in his pockets, watching his wedding slip further from the fairytale they’d built on someone else’s labor.
I turned and walked away before either of them could try again.
A upset groom | Source: Midjourney
And this time, they didn’t follow me. They went off together.
Later, just as dessert was being served and people were laughing again, Grandma stood once more.
She clinked her glass gently.
“I want to make something very clear, especially to my grandchildren and their new spouses. Generosity is a gift. Not an obligation. And it should never be repaid with greed or disrespect.”
A dessert buffet at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
People sat up straighter.
Grandma paused. She looked around the room with deliberate calm.
“I’ve given each of you the benefit of the doubt. And my honeymoon gift still stands, this time. But if I ever see something like this again?”
She smiled. Sweet. Lethal.
“I won’t just take away a trip. I’ll take everything else too, trust funds included.”
An older woman giving a speech at a wedding | Source: Midjourney
She nodded toward Adam. Then Chelsea.
Then sat down like she’d just read bedtime stories to kids.
“I see and hear everything, Emily,” she said later. “And no more giving discounts to ungrateful family. This is your career now, darling. Take a stand. And if you really want to go to culinary school, talk to me. Your trust fund is there for a reason. Why you’re trying to save money, only the Lord knows, child.”
“Thanks, Gran,” I smiled.
A smiling woman sitting at a wedding reception | Source: Midjourney
After, Adam started texting me on my birthday. On time. Chelsea began tagging and re-posting my bakes on socials.
At the next family barbecue, hosted by Chelsea and Adam, she hovered near the drinks table before walking over. Her smile was tight, eyes scanning for anyone nearby, like she didn’t want an audience.
She handed me a thank-you card with a massage gift card tucked inside.
Food on a grill | Source: Midjourney
“These were really good, by the way,” she said.
She meant the brownies, but the compliment landed weird, it like got stuck on the way out. Her tone was off. I nodded, said thanks, and watched her retreat like she’d completed a chore.
It wasn’t affection. It was fear. Respect. Caution.
And honestly? That worked just fine.
A woman standing in a backyard | Source: Midjourney
If you’ve enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
While Emma is sitting at her desk one afternoon, she gets a surprise delivery. When she opens the box, she finds a cake with an unsettling message and the pregnancy test she forgot to hide. Will she go home and explain the truth to her husband or let him walk away?
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