When my husband came home with another woman and announced he wanted her to be his second wife, I thought it was a joke. But when I realized he was serious, I told him I’d agree on one condition. That condition was something he wasn’t expecting.
I never thought I’d find myself in this situation, but here I am, ready to share what happened a week ago.
It all started a couple of months ago when Jack, my husband of eight years, began acting strangely.
A man standing in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
We weren’t newlyweds anymore, but our marriage was stable. Or at least, that’s what I thought.
Jack’s mood shifts were subtle at first.
He’d always been full of ideas, but suddenly, he was talking about “alternative lifestyles” as if he’d discovered a new way of life.
“You know,” he said one evening while scrolling on his phone, “some people are really embracing unconventional ways of living. Makes you think about what works and what doesn’t.”
“Like what?” I asked.
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “Just… ways to make life easier.”
I assumed he meant something harmless, like minimalism or one of those eco-friendly lifestyles.
The thing is, Jack was always diving headfirst into fads. There was that time he became obsessed with woodworking and another when he swore he’d open a food truck.
It always fizzled out eventually. I thought this time would be no different.
A woman looking at her husband | Source: Midjourney
Then came the comments.
“Wouldn’t it be nice if we had some extra help around here?” he asked one night as I folded laundry.
“What do you mean?” I replied, glancing at him.
“Oh, nothing,” he said with a shrug. “You’re always so busy. Don’t you think it’d be great if you had someone to share the load?”
“You mean a cleaning service?” I joked.
He chuckled but didn’t answer. His tone was weirdly serious, and for the first time, I felt uneasy.
A man with a serious look | Source: Midjourney
Around this time, I noticed he’d started spending a lot more time on his phone. He’d take it everywhere. Literally everywhere. The kitchen, the bathroom, and even to bed.
He’d sit there scrolling and chuckling to himself. When I asked what was so funny, he’d say, “Just some reels on Instagram.”
At first, I brushed it off. But then something about his weird habit started bothering me.I mean, who spends so much time on their phone? And that too all of a sudden?
That’s when I knew I had to confront him.
A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
One night, as he came out of the bathroom with his phone in hand, I finally asked, “Jack, is everything okay?”
He paused mid-step.
“Of course,” he said with a smile. “I’m just thinking about how to make life better for us, that’s all. Don’t worry about it.”
His words were meant to reassure me, but they had the opposite effect. “Make life better for us” sounded like code for something I wasn’t ready to unpack.
A man looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
A few days later, Jack asked me something that sent a shiver down my spine.
“Do you think I’m honest with you?” he said casually.
“Honest?” I repeated. “Umm, yeah. Why?”
“No reason,” he replied quickly. “I just think honesty is the most important thing in a marriage. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“Of course,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “But what’s this about? Where is this coming from?”
“Oh, nothing,” he chuckled. “I just think it’s time we talked about the future. You know, ways to make things better for both of us.”
A man talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
“Uh, okay,” I said, thinking of a way to change the topic. “I have to go grab some things from the store today. Mind coming along?”
“Sure,” he said.
I hoped he’d drop whatever weird topic he was trying to bring up that day. But in hindsight, that conversation was just the beginning of the storm.
Fast forward to last week. Jack came home from work looking unusually chipper. I was in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner when the door swung open.
A woman chopping vegetables | Source: Pexels
I glanced up, expecting his usual halfhearted “Hey, babe.” Instead, he walked in with a young woman trailing behind him.
“Amelia,” he said in a cheerful tone, “this is Claire.”
I set the knife down, confused.
Who was this woman? Was this a friend? I’d never heard her name before.
“Hi, Claire,” I said. “Can I, uh, help you with something?”
Instead of replying, she just stared at Jack, waiting for him to answer.
“What’s going on, Jack?” I asked impatiently.
I knew something was not right.
A woman standing in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Amelia…” he began. “Claire is going to be my second wife.”
Second wife? I thought he was joking.
“Good one, Jack,” I laughed. “You got me. Where’s the hidden camera?”
But his expression didn’t change. He was serious. Dead serious.
“You’re joking,” I said. “This isn’t true, right?”
My gaze shifted from him to Claire, who stared back at me like I was the one being unreasonable.
A woman standing in her boyfriend’s house | Source: Midjourney
“No,” Jack replied. “Listen, Amelia, this is going to sound unconventional, but it’s practical. Claire is a hardworking woman. She can help with the cooking, cleaning, and other household tasks. This way, everything runs smoothly. And it’s better than sneaking around and having a mistress, right? At least I’m being honest.”
I stared at him, trying to process his words.
He was trying to fit another woman into our lives as if it was no big deal. And he wanted me to appreciate his honesty? Seriously Jack?
A woman looking at her husband | Source: Midjourney
Meanwhile, Claire stood behind him, trying to avoid my gaze. I could tell that she wanted to be anywhere but there.
As I stood there, Jack kept rambling about how this was the “best solution” for everyone. That’s when a wicked idea popped into my head.
I folded my arms and waited for him to finish. When he finally stopped talking, I smiled sweetly.
“Alright,” I said. “You can have a second wife. But I’ll set one rule.”
His face lit up. “Of course! Anything! What’s the rule?”
A man smiling while talking to his wife | Source: Midjourney
“She can’t approach my second husband,” I announced. “Deal?”
Jack stared at me like I’d just said the most unusual thing he’d ever heard.
“S-second husband?” he stammered. “Wh-what does that mean?”
“Well, if you’re allowed to have a second spouse, why shouldn’t I? Think about it, Jack. Two incomes. Someone to take me out when you’re busy or don’t feel like it. A man who actually buys me flowers. It’s only fair, right?”
A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
“That’s… that’s not how it works!” he spluttered. “You’re being ridiculous, Amelia!”
“Oh, I’m the ridiculous one?” I shot back, raising an eyebrow. “You walk in here with a stranger and expect me to welcome her with open arms, but the idea of me having the same freedom is absurd? Interesting logic, Jack.”
Claire stood frozen, her gaze darting between us like she’d accidentally wandered into the wrong room. If she was nervous before, she now looked like she was seconds away from bolting out the door.
A woman looking at her boyfriend talk to his wife | Source: Midjourney
Jack’s face turned red as he tried to justify his idea.
“This is different,” he said. “A man having two wives… it’s acceptable in some cultures. But a woman having two husbands? No one has ever heard of that.”
I snorted. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on culture? Funny, I don’t remember you suddenly adopting any other traditions. Why only THIS SPECIFIC tradition, huh?”
“Amelia, be serious,” he said, his voice rising. “You can’t have a second husband. That’s not how things work!”
A man arguing with his wife | Source: Midjourney
“Well, Jack, if you want to live in a ‘traditional’ way, then I guess I’ll embrace some traditions of my own,” I said with a shrug. “But let me be clear. You can’t have a second wife unless I get a second husband. That’s my rule. Take it or leave it.”
He stared at me with eyes wide open. I knew he wanted to scream at me, but even he knew he was the one being unreasonable.
Then, without another word, he turned to Claire. “Go home. We’ll figure this out later.”
Claire didn’t argue. She grabbed her purse and practically ran out the door without even saying goodbye to the man she thought would marry her.
A close-up shot of a doorknob | Source: Pexels
That night, Jack tried everything to convince me I was being unreasonable. “You don’t mean this,” he said, pacing the living room. “You’re just trying to prove a point. Let’s talk about this like adults.”
“We are talking,” I said coolly. “I’ve made my position clear. If you want Claire, I want another husband. Fair’s fair, Jack.”
By morning, his tune had changed. He entered the kitchen with his gaze lowered.
“I’ve been thinking,” he said sheepishly. “Maybe this whole second-wife thing wasn’t such a great idea.”
A man talking to his wife in the morning | Source: Midjourney
“Maybe?” I replied, arching an eyebrow.
“Fine. It was a terrible idea. Let’s just forget this ever happened, okay?”
Forget this ever happened? Haha! Nice try, Jack.
“It’s too late to forget everything,” I told him. “Last night, I’d set up a dating app profile, and I’ve already received dozens of messages from men who seem way more interested in being my second husband than I ever expected.”
“What do you mean?” he asked in a trembling voice.
“I’m done, Jack. It’s over,” I said.
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I packed my bags and moved to a friend’s house.
Jack kept calling me, but I didn’t respond. He even sent texts, begging me for forgiveness.
Soon, I filed for divorce, and from what I’ve heard, even Claire stopped answering Jack’s calls.
Guess he should’ve thought twice before pitching such a “practical” solution.
My Husband Invited His Entire Office to Our Thanksgiving Without Telling Me – My Revenge Was Delicious
When Zoe’s husband invites 15 coworkers to Thanksgiving — without warning — her cozy holiday turns chaotic. With a smile sharper than her carving knife, she channels her fury into orchestrating a feast they’ll never forget. Can she pull it off while teaching her husband a lesson he won’t live down?
Thanksgiving morning came in like a hurricane. My coffee had gone cold on the counter while I darted between rescuing the living room walls from Emma’s artistic endeavors and intercepting Jake, who’d somehow scaled the counter to get his tiny hands on a plate of cookies.
A boy reaching for a cookie | Source: Midjourney
“Emma, honey, we color on paper, not the walls,” I said, peeling the crayon from her sticky fingers.
She looked up at me with a grin both innocent and maddening.
“Jake!” I called, snatching the plate just as he made off with another cookie. He gave me a gummy smile, crumbs tumbling down his chin like tiny confessions.
A boy holding a cookie | Source: Midjourney
I sighed and scooped him off the counter, setting him on the floor with a toy spatula as a peace offering.
The turkey was in the oven, the table half-set, and the mashed potatoes — well, they were still more like potato chunks, but I was determined.
Hosting Thanksgiving was my Everest every year. Sure, it was stressful, but there was something deeply satisfying about pulling it off, even if my in-laws did nothing but offer critiques disguised as helpful suggestions.
A woman cooking | Source: Midjourney
I’d barely taken a breath when the front door slammed open. Dan’s voice boomed through the chaos.
“We’re here!”
We?
I turned, still holding a bowl of partly mashed potatoes, to see Dan standing in the entryway. He was beaming, the kind of grin he wore when he’d made a decision he thought was brilliant but was about to wreck my day.
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
Behind him, a parade of unfamiliar faces streamed in, each looking ready for a party. Some held bottles of wine or bags of snacks, while others glanced around uncertainly, clearly sensing that their arrival wasn’t as warmly anticipated as Dan had promised.
“Dan,” I said slowly, my voice edged with warning, “who’s ‘we’?”
He didn’t notice the tension in my tone, and even worse, chose to ignore it. His grin widened, oblivious to the rising storm.
A smiling man | Source: Midjourney
“I invited a few coworkers,” he said casually as if this were something we’d discussed in detail and agreed upon over breakfast. “They didn’t have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving. Isn’t that what the holidays are all about?”
I stared at him, the words not quite connecting in my brain. Did he seriously just say a few coworkers? My grip tightened around the bowl of potatoes, the ridges of its edge digging into my palms.
“A few?” I managed, my voice climbing a little higher with each word.
A shocked woman holding a bowl | Source: Midjourney
“Fifteen,” he replied, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He was still grinning, proud of his altruistic brilliance. “But it’s no big deal! Just make a couple more portions. You’re great at this stuff.”
I blinked, the number reverberating in my skull. Fifteen. Fifteen unexpected, unplanned, utterly uninvited people standing in my house on Thanksgiving, the day I dreaded each year for its precise balancing act of chaos and tradition.
For a moment, I was too stunned to do anything but picture my bowl of potatoes sailing through the air toward Dan’s head.
A bowl of potatoes flying through the air | Source: DALL-E
The fantasy was short-lived but oh-so-satisfying. I could almost hear the splat as the potatoes scattered like confetti.
But alas, I was not the kind of woman who hurled produce. At least, not yet.
Instead, I took a deep breath, the kind that makes your chest feel too tight but stops you from screaming. Plastering on a smile that felt more like barbed wire than warmth, I pivoted toward the living room, where Dan’s coworkers were now awkwardly congregating near the couch.
People standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
Emma was circling their legs like a determined little tornado, holding up her latest crayon masterpiece, while Jake toddled around with a triumphant fistful of crackers he’d scavenged from God knows where.
“Welcome, everyone!” I called, clapping my hands together so loudly it startled one poor guy into dropping his snack bag. “So glad you could join us! Since this was a little… unexpected,” I said, letting the pause hang heavily in the air, “I’ll need some help to make it all come together.”
Dan’s grin faltered. That alone was enough to give me a spark of satisfaction.
A man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“Uh, I thought you had everything under control—”
“Oh, I do,” I said sweetly, my voice dripping with the kind of sugary determination that made my children instinctively behave. “But you can take the kids upstairs so I can focus down here.”
He opened his mouth to argue, the flicker of panic crossing his face suggesting he realized too late that he had underestimated the situation.
I gave him a pointed look. He closed his mouth and glanced around the room for an ally. None of his coworkers made eye contact. They all suddenly seemed deeply interested in the patterns on my living room rug. Smart move.
People standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
With Dan momentarily neutralized, I turned back to the crowd, my smile now dialed up to full-on mom-general mode.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. Jim,” — I decided the man fumbling with the dropped snack looked like a Jim — “can you continue mashing these potatoes? And you, Sarah, right? Great. Sarah, could you help set the table?”
They hesitated, unsure whether this was part of some elaborate Thanksgiving tradition or just my thinly veiled way of punishing them.
People exchanging awkward glances | Source: Midjourney
“The kitchen is just through here, follow me,” I added, turning to lead the way.
Soon, everyone was busy with their assignments like recruits who knew better than to question their drill sergeant.
Dan returned after about ten minutes, now wearing a paper turkey glued to his shirt, courtesy of Emma’s relentless crafting enthusiasm. Jake trailed after him with a smug look, holding a juice box I was certain he hadn’t asked for.
A boy holding a juice box | Source: Midjourney
Dan surveyed the scene, his mouth opening in what was likely another attempt at commentary, but I shut it down with a simple glance. My impromptu army was working, and no way was he going to derail it now.
The sound of the potato peeler scraping against tubers joined the clinking of plates and the occasional giggle of guests trying to navigate their tasks.
It was chaos, yes, but it was my chaos.
A confident woman | Source: Midjourney
It wasn’t all smooth sailing. Someone spilled cranberry sauce on my rug, and another coworker accidentally doubled the sugar in the sweet potatoes. But somehow, by sheer force of will (and a little wine), the chaos began to look like progress.
Dinner came together like a miracle. The table groaned under the weight of turkey, stuffing, and all the trimmings, each dish looking more impressive than the last.
I took my seat at the head of the table, raising my glass with a triumphant smile.
A woman making a toast | Source: Midjourney
“Thank you all for coming on such short notice,” I began, my tone warm but pointed. “This wouldn’t have been possible without your help — literally. I hope you enjoyed seeing what Thanksgiving prep looks like in this house. Isn’t teamwork amazing?”
Dan’s boss chuckled. “Dan, you didn’t tell us we’d be working on our day off!”
The table erupted in laughter. Dan gave a sheepish smile, sinking lower into his chair. I allowed myself a moment of smug satisfaction.
A sheepish man at a dinner table | Source: Midjourney
After dessert, I stood, clapping my hands once more. “Alright, everyone, let’s tackle the clean-up together! Dan, why don’t you lead the dishwashing crew? You’re so good at organizing.”
Dan’s coworkers didn’t even blink. They rose, collecting plates and stacking bowls as if it were second nature.
I watched from the doorway as Dan scrubbed dishes, a streak of whipped cream on his cheek and an expression of utter defeat on his face.
A man washing dishes | Source: Midjourney
Jake toddled over, tugging at his pant leg, and Dan crouched down, his voice soft but tired.
“I’m sorry, buddy. Mommy’s the boss, isn’t she?”
You bet your glued-on turkey she is, I thought, smirking as I headed back to the dining room.
Later that night, as the house finally quieted and the kids snored softly in their beds, Dan found me on the couch. He sat down beside me, handing me a mug of tea.
A woman holding a mug of tea | Source: Pexels
“Zoe,” he began, running a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about how much work goes into this. I shouldn’t have surprised you like that.”
I let the silence stretch just long enough for him to squirm. “No, you shouldn’t have,” I said, though my tone was more teasing than angry now.
He gave me a small smile. “You were amazing today.”
I sipped my tea, leaning back onto the couch with a satisfied sigh.
A woman relaxing | Source: Midjourney
“Just remember this next time you think about inviting an entire office to Thanksgiving.”
“Next time?” He looked horrified, and I couldn’t help but laugh.
“Let’s hope there’s no next time,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder.
Thanksgiving was a rollercoaster, but at least it was our rollercoaster, and I was firmly in the driver’s seat.
A confident woman | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: My MIL Gloria crossed a line when she strutted into Thanksgiving with a turkey bearing a photo of my face. Her humiliating “joke” in front of the family was the last straw. But little did Gloria know, I had a plan to turn her stunt into the talk of the town — for all the wrong reasons.
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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