After years of infertility, we adopted Sam, a sweet 3-year-old with ocean-blue eyes. But when my husband went to bathe Sam, he ran out, yelling, “We must return him!” His panic made no sense until I spotted the distinctive marking on Sam’s foot.
I never expected that bringing home our adopted son would unravel the fabric of my marriage. But looking back now, I realize that some gifts come wrapped in heartache, and sometimes the universe has a twisted sense of timing.
A thoughtful woman | Source: Midjourney
“Are you nervous?” I asked Mark as we drove to the agency.
My hands fidgeted with the tiny blue sweater I’d bought for Sam, our soon-to-be son. The fabric was impossibly soft against my fingers, and I imagined his small shoulders filling it out.
“Me? Nah,” Mark replied, but his knuckles were white against the steering wheel. “Just ready to get this show on the road. Traffic’s making me antsy.”
A man driving a car | Source: Pexels
He drummed his fingers on the dash, a nervous tick I’d noticed more frequently lately.
“You’ve checked the car seat three times,” he added with a forced chuckle. “Pretty sure you’re the nervous one.”
“Of course I am!” I smoothed the sweater again. “We’ve waited so long for this.”
The adoption process had been grueling, mostly handled by me while Mark focused on his expanding business.
A woman staring thoughtfully out a car window | Source: Midjourney
The endless paperwork, home studies, and interviews had consumed my life for months as I searched agency lists for a child. We’d initially planned to adopt an infant, but the waiting lists stretched endlessly, so I started expanding our options.
That’s how I found Sam’s photo — a three-year-old boy with eyes like summer skies and a smile that could melt glaciers.
His mother had abandoned him, and something in those eyes spoke directly to my heart. Maybe it was the hint of sadness behind his smile, or perhaps it was fate.
A little boy with striking blue eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Look at this little guy,” I said to Mark one evening, showing him the photo on my tablet. The blue glow illuminated his face as he studied it.
He’d smiled so softly I knew he wanted this boy as much as I did. “He looks like a great kid. Those eyes are something else.”
“But could we handle a toddler?”
“Of course we can! No matter how old the kid is, I know you’ll be a great mom.” He squeezed my shoulder as I stared at the picture.
A woman staring at her tablet | Source: Midjourney
We completed the application process and, after what seemed like forever, we went to the agency to bring Sam home. The social worker, Ms. Chen, led us to a small playroom where Sam sat building a tower of blocks.
“Sam,” she said softly, “remember the nice couple we talked about? They’re here.”
I kneeled beside him, my heart thundering. “Hi, Sam. I love your tower. May I help?”
He studied me for a long moment, nodded, and handed me a red block. That simple gesture felt like the beginning of everything.
A child playing with toy blocks | Source: Midjourney
The drive home was quiet. Sam clutched a stuffed elephant we’d brought him, occasionally making small trumpet sounds that made Mark chuckle. I kept glancing back at him in his car seat, hardly believing he was real.
At home, I started unpacking Sam’s few belongings. His small duffle seemed impossibly light for containing a child’s whole world.
“I can give him his bath,” Mark offered, from the door. “Give you a chance to set up his room exactly how you want it.”
A man standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Great idea!” I beamed, thinking how wonderful it was that Mark wanted to bond right away. “Don’t forget the bath toys I picked up for him.”
They disappeared down the hall, and I hummed as I arranged Sam’s clothes in his new dresser. Each tiny sock and T-shirt made this feel more real. The peace lasted exactly forty-seven seconds.
“WE MUST RETURN HIM!”
Mark’s shout hit me like a physical blow.
A woman looking over her shoulder | Source: Midjourney
He burst from the bathroom as I raced into the hall. Mark’s face was ghost-white.
“What do you mean, return him?” I struggled to keep my voice steady, gripping the doorframe. “We just adopted him! He’s not a sweater from Target!”
Mark paced the hallway, running his hands through his hair, his breathing ragged. “I just realized… I can’t do this. I can’t treat him like my own. This was a mistake.”
“Why would you say that?” My voice cracked like thin ice.
A confused woman | Source: Midjourney
“You were excited just hours ago! You were making elephant noises with him in the car!”
“I don’t know; it just hit me. I can’t bond with him.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes, staring instead at a point somewhere over my shoulder. His hands trembled.
“You’re being heartless!” I snapped, pushing past him into the bathroom.
Sam sat in the tub looking small and confused, and still wearing everything but his socks and shoes. He held his elephant clutched tight against his chest.
A boy holding a stuffed elephant | Source: Midjourney
“Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing cheerfulness into my voice while my world crumbled. “Let’s get you cleaned up, okay? Would Mr. Elephant like a bath too?”
Sam shook his head. “He’s scared of water.”
“That’s okay. He can watch from here.” I set the toy safely on the counter. “Arms up!”
As I helped Sam undress, I noticed something that stopped my heart.
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
Sam had a distinctive birthmark on his left foot. I’d seen that exact mark before, on Mark’s foot, during countless summer days by the pool. The same unique curve, the same placement.
My hands trembled as I bathed Sam, and my mind raced.
“You’ve got magic bubbles,” Sam said, poking at the foam I’d barely registered adding to the water.
“They’re extra special bubbles,” I muttered, watching him play. His smile, which had seemed so uniquely his own, now held echoes of my husband’s.
A bubble bath | Source: Pexels
That night, after tucking Sam into his new bed, I confronted Mark in our bedroom. The distance between us on the king-size mattress felt infinite.
“The birthmark on his foot is identical to yours.”
Mark froze in the act of removing his watch, then forced a laugh that sounded like breaking glass. “Pure coincidence. Lots of people have birthmarks.”
“I want you to take a DNA test.”
A woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snapped, turning away. “You’re letting your imagination run wild. It’s been a stressful day.”
But his reaction told me everything. The next day, while Mark was at work, I took a few strands of hair from his brush and sent them for testing, along with a swab I took from Sam’s cheek during tooth-brushing time. I told him we were checking for cavities.
The wait was excruciating. Mark grew increasingly distant, spending more time at the office. Meanwhile, Sam and I grew closer.
A woman playing with a child | Source: Midjourney
He started calling me “Mama” within days, and each time he did, my heart swelled with love even as it ached with uncertainty.
We developed a routine of morning pancakes, bedtime stories, and afternoon walks to the park where he’d collect “treasure” (leaves and interesting rocks) for his windowsill.
When the results arrived two weeks later, they confirmed what I’d suspected. Mark was Sam’s biological father. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the paper until the words blurred, hearing Sam’s laughter float in from the backyard where he played with his new bubble wand.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“It was one night,” Mark finally confessed when I confronted him with the results. “I was drunk, at a conference. I never knew… I never thought…” He reached for me, his face crumpling. “Please, we can work this out. I’ll do better.”
I stepped back, my voice ice-cold. “You knew the moment you saw that birthmark. That’s why you panicked.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sinking into a kitchen chair. “When I saw him in the bath, it all came rushing back. That woman… I never got her name. I was ashamed, I tried to forget…”
An emotional man | Source: Midjourney
“An accident four years ago, while I was going through fertility treatments? Crying every month when they failed?” Each question felt like glass in my throat.
The next morning, I visited a lawyer, a sharp-eyed woman named Janet who listened without judgment. She confirmed what I hoped — being Sam’s legal adoptive mother gave me parental rights. Mark’s previously unknown paternity didn’t automatically grant him custody.
“I’m filing for divorce,” I told Mark that evening after Sam was asleep. “And I’m seeking full custody of Sam.”
A determined woman | Source: Midjourney
“Amanda, please—”
“His mother already abandoned him and you were ready to do the same,” I cut in. “I won’t let that happen.”
His face crumpled. “I love you.”
“Not enough to come clean. It seems to me that you loved yourself more.”
Mark didn’t fight it, so the divorce proceedings were quick. Sam adjusted better than I expected, though sometimes he asked why Daddy didn’t live with us anymore.
A boy in his bed | Source: Midjourney
“Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes,” I’d tell him, stroking his hair. “But it doesn’t mean they don’t love you.” It was the kindest truth I could offer.
Years have passed since then, and Sam’s grown into a remarkable young man. Mark sends birthday cards and occasional emails but keeps his distance — his choice, not mine.
People sometimes ask if I regret not walking away when I discovered the truth. I always shake my head.
A woman hugging her son | Source: Midjourney
Sam wasn’t just an adopted child anymore; he was my son, biology, and betrayal be damned. Love isn’t always simple, but it’s always a choice. I vowed never to give him up, except to his future fiancée, of course.
Here’s another story: Despite being a struggling single mom, I had to help the elderly woman I found out in the cold on Christmas Eve. I never imagined that my simple act of kindness would lead to a mysterious luxury SUV at my door — or heal my broken heart.
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.
I Found a Christmas Gift in My Husband’s Closet, but It Had His Mistress’s Name on It – So I Switched It to Get Revenge
Finding a hidden Christmas gift is supposed to bring excitement and joy — but what if the tag reveals a name that shatters your trust? One woman’s discovery turned heartbreak into a bold act of revenge that’s equal parts shocking and satisfying.
Two days before Christmas, I found a hidden gift box in my husband’s closet meant for his mistress. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I planned the “perfect” surprise instead, one they’d never forget.
I never thought I’d be the type of woman who’d get creative with payback, but life has a way of surprising you. Just like finding that little red gift box in my husband’s closet surprised me. Now, sitting here with a glass of wine, I can’t help but smile at how perfectly my Christmas surprise turned out.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
The first sign something was wrong came a month before Christmas. Jimmy started working late… really late. The kind of late that makes you wonder if your husband’s office actually has a bed hidden somewhere.
Then, one day, out of the blue, he was already home. Weird.
“Hey, you’re home early! I took half a day off today. Headache. So, how was the meeting with the client” his voice echoed from the kitchen as I walked through our front door at 7 p.m. These days, that counts as early.
I dropped my keys in the ceramic bowl we’d bought on our honeymoon. “Yeah, the meeting was fine.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
The house felt empty despite the Christmas decorations I’d put up — the garland along the stairs, the wreaths on every door, and the giant tree in our living room that I’d decorated alone while Jimmy worked another late night.
“I made pasta,” he called out. “Want some?”
“Already ate.” I headed upstairs, my footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs. “Got a headache. Think I’ll turn in early.”
A woman ascending upstairs | Source: Midjourney
That night, I lay awake listening to Jimmy’s steady breathing beside me, wondering when exactly we’d become strangers who shared a bed. Five years of marriage, no kids yet. We’d been “waiting for the right time.”
Now, I wondered if there’d ever be one.
My mom had warned me about marrying young. “You’re only 23, Alina,” she’d said. “What’s the rush?”
But I’d been so sure. Jimmy was different. He was special. He was… well, currently getting a text at 2 a.m. that made his phone light up the darkness of our bedroom.
A man using a smartphone in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
Two days before Christmas, I finally tackled Jimmy’s disaster of a home office and then started cleaning his closet. Between the messy clothes, tangled charging cables, and abandoned gym gear, something caught my eye.
It was a red gift box tucked behind some of his winter coats.
My heart skipped. Maybe I’d been wrong. Maybe he’d planned a surprise. Maybe all those late nights were just him working hard to afford something special for me.
Then I saw the note attached with a pristine silver ribbon: “LOVE YOU, JULIE!”
Here’s the heartbreaker: My name IS NOT JULIE!
A red gift box | Source: Midjourney
The world didn’t stop spinning. My hands didn’t shake. Instead, a strange calm washed over me as I opened the box to find a diamond necklace — the exact one I’d shown him months ago during our anniversary dinner.
“Look how beautiful that is,” I’d said, pointing to the jewelry store window.
“Too expensive,” he’d replied, barely glancing up from his phone.
Apparently not too expensive for Julie, though!
A heartbroken woman holding a red gift box | Source: Midjourney
I pulled out my phone and dialed Mark, my furniture-fixing friend from college. “Remember when you said you owe me for helping with your divorce paperwork? Time to cash in that favor.”
“Alina? Everything okay?”
“Not really. How good are you at modifying gift boxes?”
Mark’s workshop smelled like sawdust and revenge when I visited. He whistled as he examined the box. “You sure about this, Alina? Once we modify it, we can’t—”
“Absolutely.” I handed him a small canister that contained my secret recipe for revenge. “Make it count.”
A woman holding a small canister | Source: Midjourney
“It’ll trigger the moment anyone lifts the lid more than an inch.” He demonstrated the mechanism with careful hands. “Spring-loaded, just like you asked. It will hit everything within a three-foot radius. Industrial grade stuff.”
I smiled, imagining the scene. “Perfect!”
“Want to tell me who it’s for?”
“Let’s just say someone’s getting an extra special Christmas surprise this year.”
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
That evening, I returned the gift box to its hiding spot, right where Jimmy would expect to find it. Now came the hard part… waiting.
Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. I’d always loved the magic, anticipation, and joy of Christmas. This year, I felt a different kind of anticipation as I watched from the kitchen while Jimmy grabbed his coat, the red box poorly hidden under his arm.
“Heading to the office, hun?” I asked sweetly, stirring my coffee. “On Christmas?”
A man smiling against the backdrop of Christmas decorations | Source: Midjourney
“Just for an hour,” he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. “Emergency client meeting, sugar.”
“Of course. Don’t work too hard.”
He smiled and left. I grabbed my car keys and followed him to Honey Bunz, our favorite restaurant.
Through the window, I saw her. JULIE. My husband’s mistress. She had that perfectly styled blonde hair, red lipstick, and a designer outfit. Everything I didn’t have.
A young woman smiling in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Julie bounced in her seat like a kid on Christmas morning as Jimmy approached. “Awww, Jim, darling! You shouldn’t have!” She clapped her hands together, drawing stares from nearby tables.
“Anything for you, sweetheart.” Jimmy’s voice carried through the window he’d forgotten to close completely. He slid into the booth across from her, presenting the glittery box with a flourish. “I picked it out for you, my love.”
“Oh my god, is it…?” Julie’s eyes widened as she grabbed the box. “The diamond necklace from La Enchanted Diamonds? The one I showed you last month? The diamond ring from Botswana?”
An excited woman holding a glittery gift box | Source: Midjourney
“Open it and see, sugar.” Jimmy leaned forward, grinning like a fool.
“I’m trying. The knot seems a bit too tight,” Julie said.
“Let me help you,” Jimmy rose from his chair and approached her as they untied the ribbon.
“Three…” I whispered, my phone steady and recording. “Two… one…”
SPLAT!
The explosion of green paint was magnificent. Julie’s scream hit a note I didn’t think was humanly possible. “MY HAIR! MY DRESS!” She jumped up, paint dripping down her face like melted ice cream. “JIMMY, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?”
A startled woman shrieking | Source: Midjourney
Jimmy stood frozen, mouth open, green paint dripping from his nose. “I… I don’t…”
“Is this some kind of joke?” Julie shrieked, wiping paint from her eyes. “Do you think this is funny, you MORON?”
An elderly woman at the next table snorted into her mimosa. “Well, I think it’s hilarious!”
“Someone get this on video!” a teenage boy called out.
“Already trending!” another responded, typing furiously on his phone.
A shocked man with his face covered in green paint | Source: Midjourney
Julie grabbed her ruined designer purse. “I look like the Grinch threw up on me! This dress cost more than your monthly salary, you idiot!”
“Julie, baby, wait—” Jimmy stood up, spreading green paint everywhere.
“Don’t ‘baby’ me! I’m done being your dirty little suprise!” She stormed toward the door, leaving green footprints in her wake. “And by the way? Your wife’s way too good for you!”
You got that right, sister!
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
I barely made it home before Jimmy burst through the door, his face and expensive suit covered in bright green paint.
“What happened to you?” I gasped, fighting to keep my expression concerned. “You look like the Grinch!”
“Some… some kids with paint balloons,” he sputtered. “They were targeting everyone outside my office.”
“On Christmas? How awful!” I reached for the manila envelope on the counter. “Oh, by the way, these came for you today. Consider it my Christmas gift, DARLING!”
A woman holding a manila envelope | Source: Midjourney
Jimmy’s paint-streaked fingers trembled as he opened the envelope. His eyes widened at the divorce papers inside.
“WHAT?” He looked up, anxiety dawning on his green face.
“Merry Christmas, darling.” I pulled the diamond necklace out of my pocket. “By the way, your taste in jewelry has improved since our anniversary. Poor Julie. She missed out on this!”
A woman holding a diamond necklace | Source: Midjourney
“You… you swi—”
“Yep! I switched the gift box you’d so lovingly hidden for your sweet mistress! How was the surprise? Liked it?”
“Alina, honey, let me explain. You don’t understand!” He stepped forward. “Julie means nothing to me! She was a mistake!”
“A mistake?” I laughed. “A mistake is forgetting to buy milk. A mistake is mixing whites with colors in the laundry. Buying your mistress the exact necklace your wife wanted? That’s betrayal.”
A man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
“We can fix this!” He reached for me with paint-stained hands. “I’ll do anything! Counseling, therapy, whatever you want!”
“What I want?” I stepped back. “I wanted a faithful husband. I wanted the man I married. Instead, I got a liar who can’t even come up with a decent excuse for being caught. ‘Kids with paint balloons?’ Really?”
“Baby, please,” Jimmy stepped forward, green paint dripping onto our pristine floors. “It was nothing serious. Julie was just… she didn’t mean anything. We never—”
“Save it.” I held up my hand. “I’ve heard all the excuses. ‘She’s just a friend.’ ‘We’re just colleagues.’ ‘Those late nights were just work.’ Do you know what the worst part is? I actually believed you for a while.”
An angry woman yelling | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t do this. Please. I’m sorry.”
I laughed. “You know what’s funny? I spent months thinking I wasn’t enough. That I needed to be prettier, smarter, and better somehow. But standing here looking at you covered in paint, I realize you’re the one who was never enough.”
“Give me another chance.”
“No.” I grabbed my packed suitcase from behind the couch. “But thanks for the necklace. Consider it my consolation prize. Oh, and Jimmy? Green really isn’t your color.”
As I drove away, I caught one last glimpse of Jimmy in my rearview mirror, a pathetic green figure standing in our driveway. My phone buzzed with notifications. Apparently, someone had posted the paint incident online. The video was already going viral.
A woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
The last I heard, Julie dumped him following the paint incident that made rounds at the law firm where they worked. She couldn’t handle being known as ‘the green mistress.
Jimmy tried dating apps for a while, but it’s hard to find matches when you’re infamous as “the green Christmas cheater.”
Me? I’m doing just fine. The necklace looks beautiful with everything I wear. Every time it catches the light, I smile, remembering my special Christmas payback: the day I wrapped up my marriage with a bow and a whole lot of green paint.
A cheerful woman wearing a diamond necklace | Source: Midjourney
Here’s another story: I mourned my dead wife for 23 years after she died in a plane crash. But fate had arranged for one more meeting with her.
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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