The Unbelievable Betrayal of My Husband: He Brought Home His Pregnant Lover, and My Retaliation Will Leave You Speechless
When my husband Mike brought home his pregnant girlfriend and ejected me from our home, our eight-year marriage came to an abrupt end. Though I claimed to have packed my luggage, what I really unpacked was a cunning vengeance scheme!
For eight years. around 2,922 days. About seventy-one hours. My heart was calling out one name nonstop—MIKE, my spouse. I believed that he loved me equally. How foolish I was, oh! My name is Michelle, and I was a loving wife to my husband until that awful night when everything changed drastically. 💔
That Tuesday night was the turning point. After a demanding workday, I arrived home to discover a heavily pregnant woman chowing down on chips on our couch.
I initially believed I had entered the incorrect house.
“Hello, Michelle,” he began, projecting a nonchalant tone as though he were merely requesting salt. “We must have a conversation.”
I tried to comprehend what I was seeing as I stood there, motionless. With her palm resting on her stomach, the expectant mother gave an odd smile that suggested she was in a theater class.
“This is Jessica,” Mike introduced the woman seated on our couch. “She is carrying a child. along with my kid. It simply occurred. We also made the decision to stay together.
I held out for the jest. This had to be a reality TV show joke, right? If I didn’t panic, perhaps I could win a car?
However, Mike appeared grave, while Jessica continued to display her bothersome smile.
“Mike, what do you mean when you say ‘it just happened’?” I asked carefully. Did you stumble and collide with her?
Mike appeared to take offense. “Enough already, Michelle! It’s serious, this. I think moving out would be ideal for you. You are welcome to visit your mother. I’ll take over the house with Jess.
I gave a blink. Once. Two times. thrice. No, it’s not a dream yet.
I was a little bit expecting Ashton Kutcher to show up and tell me I was punked. Not Ashton, though. Only my unfaithful husband and his extremely expectant partner.
“Okay,” I replied coolly. “I’m going to pack up and head out.”
Mike was relieved, perhaps believing he had gotten away with it. Jessica grinned even more, like though she had just won the lotto. They had no idea that their fortune was about to take a turn for the worst.
Without saying a word, I went upstairs, threw my belongings into a suitcase, and headed out.
The shock subsided as I drove to my mom’s house, and I became angry instead. But this was no ordinary rage. This was the kind that inspires audacious and immensely fulfilling action.
I followed through on my plan the following day.
The bank is the first place to go. I entered the room as if I were a lady on a mission, which I was. We had a joint account, and I froze it faster than you could say “cheating jerk.”
When I explained, the bank manager’s expression was priceless. I believe he was jotting down notes for his next book in his head.
I then visited a locksmith.
Mike had told Jessica they would be gone for three days, so I had plenty of time to execute my plan, I remembered. I had the impression that fate was on my side, and the universe was supporting me.
My house is my next stop. The same comfortable house that now in ruins and where Mike and I had previously planned our future.
I had the bewildered locksmith change all the locks on the home, and he probably laughed at me, thinking I was insane. I might have requested for the most intricate, sophisticated locks possible, going a bit too far. I wanted to do this right if I was going to do it.
The movers arrived next.
I arranged for them to pack up everything I owned, which was pretty much everything in the house, and gave them the extra keys. Even the toilet paper was mine. Watch how Mike and Jessica like to use the leaves!
The best thing, though? Well, that was yet to happen. I had a wonderful plan that would turn this retaliation into something memorable as well as nice.
I made invitations to parties. Many of them. To our friends, Mike’s family, his colleagues, and even that nosy neighbor who was often complaining about our dog being late.
The invitation read, “Join us in celebrating Mike’s fresh beginning! Tomorrow at 7 p.m., we are having a surprise party at our house.
I then made plans for a billboard. Indeed, a billboard. enormously large. Unmissable once it was delivered and placed on our front lawn.
It said, “Congratulations on Dumping Me for Your Pregnant Mistress, Mike!” in huge, strong characters. I hope your adultery doesn’t trickle down to the baby!
I took a step back to admire my work, feeling like the world’s most sardonic fairy godmother who had just granted a playful desire. Anticipating the turmoil that was ahead, I walked away with a smug smirk and a dramatic hair flip.
My phone rang the very next evening, exactly on time. It was Mike, and he seemed to be going crazy.
“Michelle!” he said, raising his voice to a pitch I wasn’t aware he could. “What in the world is happening? Why do people keep coming to our house? And why is this absurd billboard there?
“Oh, that.” I said, attempting to appear naive. “Just a small get-together to celebrate you and Jessica moving in.” Are you not fond of the decorations?
“Decorations? This place is like a freaking circus! And why am I unable to enter the house?
I couldn’t contain my laughter. You told me to move out, honey, don’t you remember? There was never any mention of your staying there. I changed the locks because I am the legal owner of the house. Whoops!
On the other end, there was a prolonged silence. He was making an almost audible effort to comprehend what was going on.
With a forlorn air, he finally questioned, “Where are we supposed to go?”
“Oh, Mike, I have no idea. Would Jessica’s mother be interested in having you? Pregnancy hormones and in-laws are said to get along just fine.
Feeling lighter than I have in years, I hung up the phone. But there was still more!
I cancelled the cable, switched off the utilities, and made sure that all of our joint property was in my name in the days that followed. I listed the house for sale and made sure to specify that the property included a “bonus front lawn art installation.”
I served divorce papers to Mike at his place of employment. I went so far as to urge the mailman to don a pregnant woman’s outfit. For fun only!
However, Mike wasn’t the last person in the universe. The best thing was saved until last, oh no.
I received a call from Jessica a week later. That Jessica, indeed. She was crying so hard I was having trouble understanding her.
“Michelle, I’m so sorry,” she wailed. I had no idea. I mean, Mike informed me that the two of you had split up. And right now… I don’t know what to do because I’m pregnant and he’s destitute and homeless right now.
I nearly felt sorry for her. Nearly.
I tried not to sound too excited as I said, “Well, Jessica, I hear the circus is always looking for new acts.” Perhaps the two of you might become a juggling duo? He juggles his lies as you juggle the infant.
My comedy was not appreciated by her. Stupid! Stupid!
In the end, Jessica realized it wasn’t a good idea to be with a guy who had no money, no house, and no future after finding out that Mike was now broke, homeless, and the joke of the town.
She fired him more quickly than you could say “Karma is a b****!”
When I last heard, Mike was attempting to make ends meet and pay his bills while residing in a small apartment. His actions had caused his family to distance themselves from him.
They even sent me a card of apologies and a fruit basket. I enjoyed the fruits in my new jacuzzi while unwinding.
What about me? The house did sell for a healthy profit, though. I bought a cat, launched my own business, and relocated to a lovely new home. I gave him the name Karma.
