My Fiancé Cheated On Me, So I Teamed up with His Lover’s Husband for Ultimate Revenge — Story of the Day

I thought my life with Mark was perfect until I found a hotel reservation for two. In Spain, I met Daniel, whose wife was also hiding secrets. Together, we planned our revenge, but what happened next surprised us both.

I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wedding magazines spread across the coffee table. Just last week, Mark and I had been discussing venues and honeymoon destinations. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Supposed to be. But then, something shifted.

“Spain again?” I had asked Mark when he casually mentioned his upcoming trip. “Didn’t you just get back?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Work, babe. You know how it is.”

That evening, he flew off on his business trip, and I was left behind, bored out of my mind. I’d already done everything possible to keep myself busy.

Before, during these trips, we’d talk on the phone five or six times a day. But the phone calls became shorter and less frequent. Lately, I’d just been staring at my phone, willing it to ring.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

That evening, as I was cleaning out my inbox, I found the hotel reservation for two. At first, I laughed, thinking maybe Mark had accidentally used our vacation plans when booking his hotel in Spain.

But my heart sank as I scrolled through the details. Champagne and strawberries. I had an allergy to strawberries!

What does it mean? He isn’t alone in Spain! He is with someone else. Maybe right now, SHE’s eating those strawberries!

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“No, this can’t be right,” I whispered, pacing back and forth, gripping my phone tightly.

The email felt like a hot coal burning in my hand. Deep down, I knew. The pit in my stomach grew heavier. I grabbed my phone and called Claire, my best friend.

“You need to breathe,” she said, but her tone was anything but calm.

“I have to go to Spain, Claire. I have to see for myself,” I said, my voice shaking.

“You hate flying,” she reminded me.

“Watching my life fall apart from here is worse,” I replied, my fingers already booking the next flight.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

The flight to Spain was a nightmare from the start. My seat was cramped, the air felt stuffy, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning with every possible scenario.

What if Mark is truly sorry? What if he will beg me to forgive him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care at all?

I stared out the window, trying to distract myself, when suddenly, a cold splash hit my lap. I looked down to see tomato juice soaking into my jeans. Perfect. Just what I needed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The man next to me, wide-eyed and horrified, started fumbling with napkins. “I swear, I didn’t mean to… I’m just… I’m just really clumsy.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, dabbing at the red stain.

Of course, such things happen. Could anything else go wrong today?

“Let me make it up to you. How about I buy us a drink? I mean, unless you want to sit in awkward silence for the rest of the flight with juice all over your lap.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I couldn’t help but laugh despite everything. “Sure, why not? A drink could save the day.”

“I’m Daniel, by the way,” he said, offering his hand with a grin. “And I promise, I’m usually better with tomato juice.”

“Rebecca. And don’t worry, it’s not the worst thing to happen today.”

“Oh? Well, now I’m curious.”

I sighed, taking a sip of my drink.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“I’m on my way to Spain to confront my fiancé. He’s… probably cheating on me.”

“Yikes. That’s… rough.”

“Yeah. I found a hotel reservation for two. Champagne, dinner… you know, the works.”

“Ouch,” Daniel winced, shaking his head. “And here I thought spilling juice on you was bad.”

“Honestly, it kind of fits the day I’ve been having.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Daniel leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. “Well, get this. I’m flying to Spain to see my wife. Who, surprise, might also be cheating on me.”

I blinked, stunned for a second, before bursting into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was. But I’m not. It’s like some kind of messed-up cosmic joke, isn’t it? Two betrayed souls stuck on the same flight.”

“What are the odds of us sitting next to each other?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Pretty slim, I’d say,” Daniel replied, raising his glass with cola. “To bad luck and strange coincidences?”

I clinked my glass against his. “And to being covered in tomato juice.”

***

By the time we landed, the tomato juice incident was a distant memory. We both had bigger things on our minds. As we grabbed our bags and headed for the exit, Daniel turned to me.

“So… where are you staying?”

“It’s here.” I opened the GPS on my phone.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Me too.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. “Of course you are. What’s next? We’re assigned the same room?”

As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. The hotel had overbooked, and the frazzled desk clerk apologized profusely, offering us a shared room.

I was too exhausted to argue, and honestly, too curious about what would happen next. We both stood there in stunned silence for a moment.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Well, I guess it’s just another chapter in this weird story.”

Daniel smirked. “Looks like fate wants us to be roommates.”

We agreed to share the space. What were the odds? Two strangers, both betrayed, stuck together in a foreign country. It was absurd. But so was everything else about that day.

***

We settled into the room, both of us giving each other space. It was an odd situation. After some awkward silence, we decided to have lunch on the balcony.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I was picking at my salad when something caught my eye. I froze, my fork hovering mid-air. There, lounging by the pool, was Mark. But he wasn’t alone.

He was swimming too comfortably with a woman. And they looked… close. Way too close. In panic, I quickly ducked behind the balcony railing.

“That’s him,” I whispered, pointing shakily at the couple. “That’s Mark… with her.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

I expected Daniel to say something, maybe a word of comfort. Instead, I noticed him tense up beside me. Without saying a word, he dropped down next to me on the balcony floor. He peered through the railing.

“That’s… my wife. Brenda.”

We both crouched there, our faces inches apart, staring through the slats of the railing like two kids spying on the neighbors. His wife. My fiancé. Together.

I turned to Daniel. “They’re cheating on us… with each other.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“This is like a bad sitcom.”

I raised my hand to shush him as we strained to hear their conversation. Brenda’s voice floated up, calm and collected like she was talking about the weather.

She was telling Mark her plan to divorce Daniel and live off the money she’d get from him. Mark, to my horror, was encouraging her, saying how great it would be.

I chuckled. “Are you… rich?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Not rich enough for her.” He let out a bitter laugh.

We sat there for a moment, absorbing the insanity of the situation. Then, Daniel’s face lit up with an idea.

“Why don’t we give them a taste of their own medicine?”

“What do you mean?”

His kind of grin suggested nothing good was about to happen.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Let’s pretend we’re madly in love. Make a scene. We know where they’ll be having dinner tonight. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

My brain was struggling to keep up with the absurdity of the suggestion.

“That’s… ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” Daniel said. “It’s the perfect kind of ridiculous.”

It was childish, absurd, and completely out of character for me. But it was exactly what I needed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For the next few hours, we plotted. Surprisingly, Daniel had a sharp sense of style. At one point, he looked at my wardrobe and groaned.

“You dress like a grandma at 40,” he teased.

“Excuse me?” I laughed. “I thought you liked this sophisticated, mature look.”

Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out a stunning red dress from his suitcase.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“I bought this for Brenda,” he said with a smirk, holding it up. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll look way better on you.”

I stared at the dress, then back at him, and burst out laughing. That was about to get very interesting.

***

That evening, we stepped out of the taxi, and for the first time in days, I felt… powerful. Daniel, dressed in a sharp suit, looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, and I…

Well, that red dress did things I never thought possible. I almost didn’t recognize myself.

“You ready?” Daniel asked, offering me his arm with a playful smirk.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, slipping my arm through his.

We walked into the restaurant like we owned the place. The moment we passed Mark and Brenda’s table, I could feel their eyes on us.

Mark’s jaw practically dropped. Brenda froze with her fork suspended mid-air. I squeezed Daniel’s arm tighter, reminding myself not to burst into laughter. It was perfect.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

We stopped by their table. Daniel leaned in, his voice loud enough for them to hear.

“Should we invite them to join us for dinner? After all, it’s such a small world.”

Mark and Brenda exchanged awkward glances before giving us a hesitant wave. What followed was one of the most painfully delightful dinners I’ve ever had.

Brenda barely said a word. Mark looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, fidgeting in his seat. Daniel was in his element, flashing that charming grin of his.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“So, Mark, Brenda… how long have you two been enjoying Spain?” he asked casually.

“Uh, a few days,” Mark muttered. “Just a… spontaneous trip.”

Daniel didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, spontaneous! I love that. We should try that sometime, right, darling?”

I smiled sweetly, catching Mark’s bewildered expression. “Absolutely. Spontaneity is everything. Though, I’m not sure we could top your getaway.”

Mark’s face turned redder, and he shot a glance at Brenda, who was struggling to keep her composure.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“We were actually about to leave,” Brenda said.

Then, the grand finale. Daniel reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it slowly, revealing a stunning pair of diamond earrings.

“Brenda, I was planning to give you these. But I think they’ll suit my dear friend here much better.”

I didn’t suppress my grin as Brenda’s expression turned to pure horror.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“You’ll never see a dime of my money,” Daniel added, his tone suddenly serious. “And as for the rest… well, I think we both know where we stand.”

Daniel glanced at me, giving me a playful wink. “Shall we, darling? We have a reservation at a much better place.”

We strolled out of the restaurant, heads held high, arm in arm. It wasn’t the ending I had expected when I boarded that plane to Spain, but at that moment, I realized I had finally let go of the life I thought I needed. And what I found was something far more valuable. I found myself.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

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My Husband Kept a Christmas Gift from His First Love Unopened for 30 Years—Last Christmas, I Couldn’t Take It Anymore and Opened It

I ignored the little box under our Christmas tree for years. My husband said it was just a memory from his first love, but memories don’t haunt you like that. Last Christmas, something inside me snapped. I opened the gift and found a secret that changed everything.

I met Tyler when I was 32 and he was 35. It sounds cliché, but it felt like fate. Our connection was fast and electric, like when you step outside just as the first snowfall starts. Everything was magic, glittering, and impossibly perfect.

A couple walking in the snow | Source: Midjourney

A couple walking in the snow | Source: Midjourney

He made me laugh with his dry humor, and I admired his quiet confidence. He was never brash and never postured. Tyler was just steady and certain, a safe harbor in a storm.

At least, that’s what I thought. I later realized his calm demeanor wasn’t confidence; it was cowardice.

Our first Christmas together was everything I’d dreamed of. Candles flickered, soft music played, and snow dusted the windows. We took turns unwrapping gifts, leaving ribbons and bows scattered across the floor. Then I saw it.

A woman sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney

One gift remained under the Christmas tree: a small, neatly wrapped box with a slightly flattened bow.

“Oh?” I said, tilting my head toward it. “Is that also for me?”

Tyler glanced up from the sweater I’d just given him and shook his head. “Nah, that’s… that’s something from my first love. She gave it to me before we broke up.” He shrugged like it was nothing. “Each year, I place it under the tree, though I’ve never opened it.”

A man sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t even look up. Just folded the sweater over his lap. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just a memory of someone who once meant a lot to me.”

I felt a prickle at the back of my neck. “Why didn’t you open it?”

“We broke up soon afterward, and I didn’t feel like opening it,” he said, and that was that.

The moment passed, or at least he thought it did.

A happy man sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney

A happy man sitting in a living room on Christmas | Source: Midjourney

But I remember sitting there, my smile feeling too tight on my face. A little red flag waved somewhere in the distance of my mind, but I told myself it was fine. People hold on to weird things. Old love letters. Ticket stubs. Nobody’s perfect, right?

The years rolled on, and we built a life together. Tyler and I got married and bought a little starter home. We had two kids together who filled the rooms with shrieks of joy and toddler tears.

We were happy. Or busy, which sometimes feels the same. Christmases came and went like clockwork.

A Christmas tree in a living room | Source: Pexels

A Christmas tree in a living room | Source: Pexels

I’d put up the tree while Tyler wrangled the lights. The kids would argue over which ornaments went where, and every year, without fail, that little box appeared under the tree.

I asked him about it again around year seven of our marriage.

“Why do you still have that old gift?” I’d said, dusting pine needles off the floor. “You’ve had it longer than you’ve had me.”

He looked up from untangling the lights, brow furrowed like I’d just asked him to solve world peace.

A man untangling Christmas lights in his living room | Source: Midjourney

A man untangling Christmas lights in his living room | Source: Midjourney

“It’s just a box, Nicole. It’s not hurting anyone. Leave it be.”

I could’ve argued. I wanted to, but I didn’t. Back then, I still believed that peace was more important than answers. I still believed in us.

Time slipped through our fingers. Christmases came and went. The kids grew up and left for college. They called less and less and skipped spending holidays with the folks more often.

The house was quieter than I expected. It’s funny how you never realize how much noise you’ll miss.

A mature woman decorating a Christmas tree alone | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman decorating a Christmas tree alone | Source: Midjourney

But that box? It never missed a year.

Every December, I’d watch it appear like a ghost. Tyler would place it in a spot where it was out of the way, but still clearly visible. It still had the same stupid paper, as smooth as the day his first love wrapped it.

I didn’t say anything anymore. I’d just see it, feel my chest tighten, and keep moving. But something had shifted.

A mature woman standing near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney

A mature woman standing near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney

The box wasn’t just a box anymore. It was everything we never said to each other. It was his silence on the nights I lay awake, wondering if he’d ever loved me as much as her.

One night, after putting away dinner leftovers, I stood in the kitchen, hands on my hips, staring at the ceiling like it owed me an answer.

Tyler still hadn’t washed the dishes like he’d said he would, and hadn’t taken the trash out either. Instead, he was upstairs, tapping away on his laptop while I held everything together, like always.

A solemn-looking woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A solemn-looking woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

I’d committed years of my life to this man and our family, and I was tired of always having to fight with him and remind him about chores. I looked around our kitchen and my heart ached for something I couldn’t name.

I sighed, dried my hands on a dishrag, and made my way to the living room.

The Christmas tree lights twinkled softly, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. It should’ve been peaceful. But then I saw that darn box.

Gifts under a Christmas tree | Source: Pexels

Gifts under a Christmas tree | Source: Pexels

It was sitting there, smug, untouched. Still unopened after all these years.

Something deep and sharp unfurled in my chest. I could’ve walked away. I should’ve, but I’d walked away too many times already.

I grabbed it off the floor, and before I could think, I tore it open. Paper shredded in my hands and that stupid, flattened bow fell to the floor. My breath came short and fast as I tore open the thin cardboard and revealed the gift from Tyler’s first love.

A woman opening a Christmas gift | Source: Pexels

A woman opening a Christmas gift | Source: Pexels

Inside was a letter, neatly folded, aged to a soft yellow. I froze.

This was the thing he’d guarded for thirty years. My heart drummed in my ears as I unfolded the page, fingers trembling.

My stomach dropped as I read the first sentence. I stumbled backward and sat down hard on the sofa as my knees went weak.

A woman sitting on a sofa while reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting on a sofa while reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

“Tyler, I’m pregnant. I know this is a shock, but I didn’t know where else to turn. My parents found out and they’re forcing me to stay away from you, but if you meet me at the bus station on the 22nd, we can run away together. I’ll be wearing a green coat.

Please, meet me there, Tyler. I’m so sorry I lied that day I broke up with you. My father was watching from the car. I never stopped loving you.”

I pressed my fist to my mouth to keep from making a sound.

A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney

She’d been there. She’d waited for him. And he never showed. But worse than that — he’d never even opened the letter. He had no idea…

I heard Tyler’s footsteps coming down the stairs. I didn’t even try to hide what I’d done.

When he saw me holding the letter, his face went pale.

“What did you do?!” His voice was sharp, slicing through the air like glass. “That was my most precious memory!”

I rose and turned to him slowly, feeling something inside me crack wide open.

A shocked man standing in a living room decorated for Christmas | Source: Midjourney

A shocked man standing in a living room decorated for Christmas | Source: Midjourney

“Memory?” I held up the letter like a battle flag. “You mean this? This letter you never even opened? You’re telling me you clung to this ‘memory’ for thirty years and didn’t even have the courage to see what it was?”

He blinked, stepping back like I’d hit him.

“I didn’t…” He stopped and swiped a hand down his face. “I was scared, okay?”

“Coward,” I hissed, thrusting the letter at him like it was a sword.

A furious woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

A furious woman holding a letter | Source: Midjourney

His eyes widened. We stood there like that for what felt like forever, but then he took the page in his hands, and read the letter.

My eyes didn’t even sting with tears as I watched him gasp with shock and sit down on the arm of the sofa. I was too tired for that now.

Emotions flickered across his face, and at one point, he let out a low moan. He seemed to reread her words at least three times before he dropped his head into his hands.

A man sitting with his head in his hands | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting with his head in his hands | Source: Midjourney

“She… she was waiting, and I didn’t show up.” His shoulders shook and his voice was thick with emotion.

Silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. He cried like a man mourning his own grave. But I didn’t feel sorry for him. I’d been waiting too.

“Tyler,” I said, my voice calm like a still lake after a storm. “I’m tired. Tired of being second to a ghost.” I felt my heart settle into something steady. “We’re done.”

He didn’t chase me as I left the room.

An angry woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman glancing over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney

The divorce was quiet. Neither of us had the energy to make it messy. We split the house, the cars, and the rest of our lives.

He tracked her down. I found out from our youngest. She was happily married and their son wasn’t interested in meeting Tyler or his half-siblings. He’d missed his chance. Twice.

And me? I got my own place. On Christmas Eve, I sat by the window, watching the soft glow of lights from the neighboring apartments.

A content woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney

A content woman sitting near a window | Source: Midjourney

There was no tree this year, no boxes, and no ghosts. Just peace.

Here’s another story: When Madison’s husband, Larry, surprises her with a handmade advent calendar, she’s touched — until day one reveals a “gift” that’s really a chore. Each day, it gets worse, but by day 15, Madison’s patience snaps, and she hatches a plan to teach him a lesson.

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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