My husband Mike kicked me out of the house after bringing home his pregnant sidekick, shattering our eight years of marriage in a single breath. I packed okay, but when I opened it, I discovered a fantastic, karmic retribution plot!
Eight years. A little over 2,922 days. 70,128 hours, roughly. My spouse, Mike, was the only name that kept repeating in my head every single second. I believed he felt the same way about me. How foolish I was! My name is Michelle, and I was a devoted wife who adored her husband unconditionally until that tragic night when everything in my life completely changed.
My life chose to take a drastic turn on a Tuesday night. A hugely pregnant woman was eating chips on our couch as I entered our living room after a long day at work.
I initially believed that I might have inadvertently entered the incorrect residence.
However, Mike insisted on preserving our unsightly flowered wallpaper, and there he stood, looking as though he had just eaten a porcupine.
He said, “Hey, Michelle,” in a tone as informal as if he were requesting that I pass the salt. “We must speak.”
I stood motionless as my mind attempted to process the scene in front of me. The pregnant woman appeared to be trying out for a soap drama as she grinned clumsily while placing her palm on her belly.
Mike went on, pointing to the human incubator on our couch, “This is Jessica.” “She is expecting a child.” with my kid. It simply happened. We have also made the decision to be together.
I held out for the joke. This must have been a sophisticated practical joke for a brand-new reality TV program. Maybe if I didn’t stress out, I’d win a car.
However, Mike’s expression stayed solemn, while Jessica continued to flash that angry grin.
“What do you mean by ‘it just happened,’ Mike?” I responded slowly. Have you stumbled and collided with her—?
Mike was so bold as to appear insulted. “Enough, Michelle! This is a severe matter. I believe it would be best if you moved out. You are welcome to stay with your mother. I’ll take over the house with Jess.
I blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. It’s still not a dream, though.
I kind of thought Ashton Kutcher would come out and tell me I had been punked. No Ashton, unfortunately. Just my spouse, who cheats, and his buddy, who is quite pregnant.
“All right,” I responded coolly. “I’ll gather my belongings and head out.”
Mike appeared relieved, perhaps believing he had gotten away with it. Jessica grinned broadly, as if she had won the lottery. They had no idea that the lottery was going to strike them back—hard.
Without saying another word, I went upstairs, grabbed a suitcase with a few necessities, and walked out.
The shock subsided as I drove to my mother’s house, and anger replaced it. However, this anger wasn’t just any anger. When you’re angry like this, you want to do something really dumb but also really fulfilling.
I started my plan the following day.
The bank is the first stop. Like a lady on a mission, which I was, I strode into the room. Before you could say “cheating jerk,” I froze our joint account.
When I explained why, the bank manager’s expression was priceless. He was probably mentally making notes for his next book.
I then went to a locksmith.
I recalled hearing Mike inform Jessica that they would be gone for three days, which would allow me ample time to carry out my grand scheme. Who was I to argue with fate when it seemed like the cosmos was working in my favor?
My home is where I’m going next. Mike and I used to live in the same comfortable home where we planned a future that was now a complete train disaster.
When I asked the bewildered locksmith to change all the locks on the house, he probably laughed and thought I was insane. I might have overreached myself by requesting the most advanced, complex locks available. Hey, I was going to do this correctly if I was going to do it. and large.
The movers then arrived.
I scheduled them to pack up everything I owned, which was essentially everything in the house, and I gave them the extra keys. Even the toilet paper was taken by me. Check out how much Mike and Jessica like to use leaves!
However, the piece de resistance? Oh, that had not yet arrived. I had an amazing idea that would make this retaliation not only delicious but also enduring.
I invited people to a party. Many of them. To Mike’s friends, family, and coworkers—even that inquisitive neighbor who was always whining about our tardy dog.
“Come celebrate Mike’s new life!” was the invitation. Tomorrow at 7 p.m., we will have a surprise party at our house.
I then ordered a billboard. A billboard, indeed. An enormous one. Unmissable, it was delivered and placed on our front lawn.
It read: “Congratulations on Dumping Me for Your Pregnant Mistress, Mike!” in large, strong characters. I hope your infidelity is not passed down to the child!
Feeling like a cheeky fairy godmother who had just fulfilled the most ironic desire in the world, I took a moment to appreciate my creation. I left the scene with a smug grin and a dramatic hair flip, looking forward to the mayhem that would soon break out.
Just like clockwork, my phone rang the following evening. He sounded like he was suffering an aneurysm, and it was Mike.
“Michelle!” His voice struck octaves I was unaware he could reach as he shrieked. “What on earth is happening? What’s bringing folks to our house? And why is this crazy billboard there?
“Oh, that?” Trying to sound innocent, I said. “Just a small housewarming celebration for Jessica and you. Do you not find the decorations appealing?
“Decorations? This place is like a circus! And why am I unable to enter the house?
I couldn’t contain my laughter. “Well, honey, do you recall that you instructed me to move out? You never mentioned that you would remain there. I just realized that I am the only owner of the house. I changed the locks as a result. Oh no!
The other end was silent for a long time. His tiny brain was working so hard to absorb what was happening that I could practically hear the gears turning.
He muttered, “Where are we supposed to go?” at last.
“Oh, Mike, I’m not sure. Wouldn’t Jessica’s mother be thrilled to have you? I’ve heard that in-laws and pregnant hormones get along great.
Feeling lighter than I have in years, I hung up. But there was still more!
In the days that followed, I made sure that all of our joint assets were moved into my name, cancelled the cable, and had the utilities turned off. I made sure to note in the listing that the house had a “bonus front lawn art installation” when I put it up for sale.
At work, I served Mike with divorce papers. In particular, I asked the mailman to disguise himself as a pregnant woman. For amusement only.
However, Mike was not yet finished by the universe. It had saved the greatest for last, oh no.
I received a call from Jessica a week later. That Jessica, indeed. I could hardly understand her since she was crying so much.
“I’m so sorry, Michelle,” she wailed. I had no idea. Mike informed me that you two were no longer together. And now… I’m pregnant, he’s homeless and broke, and I’m at a loss on what to do!
I nearly felt sorry for her. Nearly.
I tried not to show my joy as I answered, “Well, Jessica, I hear the circus is always looking for new acts.” Perhaps the two of you could form a juggling duo. He juggles his lies as you juggle the baby.
She didn’t find my comedy funny. Tsk! Tsk!
As it happens, Jessica concluded that perhaps dating a man who had no money, no house, and no future wasn’t such a bad idea after learning that Mike was now homeless, broke, and the town’s laughingstock.
She left him before you could say, “Karma is a b****!”
Mike was living in a small apartment and struggling to make ends meet while also providing for his ravenous stomach when I last heard from him. Disgusted by his actions, his family had cut him off.
They even sent me a card of apology and a bouquet of fruit. I soaked in my new jacuzzi and ate the fruits.
What about me? The house sold for a good profit, though. I launched my own business, adopted a cat, and relocated to a lovely new location. I gave him the name Karma.
Therefore, it’s possible that my retaliation was a little excessive. But let’s face it, attempting to evict me from my own home while bringing home a pregnant mistress? Pole-vaulting over a line and then putting the pole on fire is more than merely crossing it.
Ultimately, I discovered an important lesson: Don’t merely create lemonade when life throws you a curveball. Squeeze those lemons into the eyes of the people who have harmed you, then watch them go blinded in the process. It’s far more fulfilling.
And don’t forget, people: those who cheat never make it, but those who are cheated on and have a sense of humor and drama? Oh, we’re all right!
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