We had a good life, or so I thought. Two kids, a house with a creaky porch swing, and a weekly tradition of homemade pizzas on Friday nights. Ethan was the kind of guy who earned respect everywhere he went. A hard worker, and a dedicated father.

And then there was Rachel, his so-called “work wife.” We’d met many times, and I liked her. She was friendly, funny, and always spoke warmly about her husband. We weren’t friends, but I was glad Ethan had a colleague like her.

He’d smile, brushing it off with a vague comment about her love of spreadsheets.

For years, I admired their partnership. She was the yin to his professional yang, or so I convinced myself. But lately, cracks had started to appear.

It wasn’t just the long hours or the constant texting. It was how he’d smile at his phone, a smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in months. Something didn’t add up.

“Are you sure?” I asked as we loaded the dishwasher together. “I thought everything was set.”

Ethan averted his gaze and shrugged. “It was… but we had all those unexpected expenses in October and November and now we can’t afford to go on vacation after Christmas. I’m sorry, honey.”

I sighed. “It’s okay… there’s always next year.”

I was disappointed, but I believed Ethan. We did have a rough time financially the last few months, and I had no reason to think he was lying to me.

Last week, while sorting through receipts for budgeting, I noticed a $3,000 charge to “Tranquility Luxe Spa.”

My first thought was that it had to be a mistake. Some kind of glitch on our credit card statement. But the date, this coming Saturday, sent a chill through me. Something wasn’t adding up.

I stared at it as I thought about why Ethan had paid so much for a spa day when we couldn’t afford a holiday. It couldn’t be a surprise for me (he could just have planned the holiday in that case), so it had to be work-related.

“So, what plans do you have for Saturday?” I asked, nudging him playfully.

“Saturday? I actually have to work… there are some last-minute details I need to iron out for that big project I told you about. Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” I said, keeping my voice light. “I, uh, thought we could take the kids to the park together.”

“Maybe next weekend,” he replied absently as he typed a text on his phone.

On Saturday morning, I waved goodbye to Ethan like everything was fine. The minute he was out of sight, I texted the babysitter to come over. I’d already arranged that she would take the kids to the park.

I gave her the bag with the snacks and games I’d packed for the kids. Then, I set out to catch Ethan red-handed. My heart raced as I pulled into the spa’s parking lot. I told myself I’d take a peek, confirm my suspicions, and leave.

Ethan and Rachel were lounging beside each other in plush white robes like they were on a honeymoon. I didn’t understand… they’d always just been work buddies. I thought I might be missing something, but then she laughed at something he said and leaned in close.

Ethan cupped the side of her face with his hand and kissed her.

My legs felt like jelly. I gripped the doorframe, desperate not to fall apart. A lump rose in my throat, but I swallowed it down. Not here. Not yet. I’d confirmed my suspicions, and now… now I knew I couldn’t walk out of there without doing something about it.

I smiled back, my lips trembling. “Yes, actually. I’m planning a surprise for a couple here — Ethan and Rachel? Could I add a complimentary massage to their booking?”

“Oh, how sweet!” she gushed, typing quickly. “We’ll let them know right away.”

“No,” I said, my voice firm. “I’d really like to keep this a surprise.”

“One surprise massage coming up!” She said, winking at me.

If Ethan and Rachel wanted to play dirty, fine. I could play dirtier.

I lingered in the lobby until I saw Ethan and Rachel being whisked off for their massage. I followed them discreetly and took note of which room they entered.

Now, it was time to put my plan into action.

I waited until they were deep into their treatment before making my next move. I grabbed a large bucket of ice-cold water from the staff area and marched toward their massage room.

I stepped inside quietly, holding my breath. Then, I dumped the bucket of freezing water over them.

Rachel screamed, jerking upright and sending towels flying. Ethan bolted upright, his face pale with shock.

“What the hell?” he spluttered.

I dropped the bucket, standing tall. “Surprised? You shouldn’t be.”

“What are you doing here?” Ethan stammered, his eyes darting between me and the drenched sheets.

Rachel wrapped herself in a robe, her face red and blotchy. “This isn’t what it looks like—”

“Oh, be quiet,” I snapped, cutting her off. “Save your excuses for your husband. He’ll be getting a call from me shortly.”

Ethan tried to speak, but I raised a hand. “Don’t. You lied to me, Ethan. You humiliated me. Worst of all, you chose this — her — over your family.”

“You’ll need to figure out where to live because there’s no place for you in our home anymore. I hope the two of you enjoy whatever this mess is because you just threw away everything for it.”

Staff were scurrying into the room at this point, alerted by Rachel’s screams, no doubt. I walked past all of them and left.

Back home, I wasted no time. Ethan’s clothes went into garbage bags.

The fallout was spectacular. Ethan lost his family, and when word spread at work, both their reputations were dragged through the dirt. Rachel asked to be transferred to a different office, the last I heard.

Apparently, even workwives have limits when the office whispers turn savage.

The kids and I went on that vacation after all. I booked us a whole week at a beachside cabin where we collected seashells and laughed until our sides hurt. At night, as the waves lapped the shore, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time. Freedom.

Here’s another story: When Madison’s husband, Larry, surprises her with a handmade advent calendar, she’s touched — until day 1 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.