Chapter 1:
I sit in my study, the golden afternoon sun filtering through the blinds, casting slatted shadows across my desk. My fingers hover over the keyboard, reluctant to break the stillness of the room. The sound of the front door creaking open and then softly closing signals Jenny’s return from her yoga class. I hear her voice, bright and cheery, calling out to me.
«Hey, Mike! How’s work going?» she asks, her footsteps approaching.
«Fine,» I reply, trying to mask the tightness in my voice. «Just finishing up some emails.»
She pokes her head through the door, her auburn hair slightly disheveled, a few strands sticking to her forehead from the workout. «Dinner in an hour?» she asks, a habitual smile on her lips.
«Yeah, sounds good,» I manage to say, forcing a smile back.
Jenny retreats to the kitchen, and I turn my attention back to the screen. An innocuous-looking email from her old college friend, Clara, sits unread in her inbox. My heart pounds as I click it open. Jenny had left her laptop on, and my curiosity got the better of me.
The words leap out at me, and I nearly fall off my chair: «I still can’t forget the night with my AP in Chicago, because my hubby was never good in bed.»
A cold sweat breaks out across my forehead. The room spins for a moment, and I grip the edge of the desk to steady myself. I read it again, disbelief giving way to a burning rage. The ‘AP’—affair partner. Chicago. The pieces of a grotesque puzzle fall into place.
«Mike, could you grab the salad from the fridge?» Jenny’s voice is light, carefree, coming from the kitchen.
I swallow hard, trying to keep the bile from rising. «Sure thing,» I reply, forcing my voice to remain steady. My hands tremble as I close the email and shut down her laptop. I need to process this. I need to think.
As I walk to the kitchen, I replay the countless nights we spent together, the moments of intimacy that now feel like a cruel joke. I grip the salad bowl, feeling the cool ceramic against my skin, and carry it to the counter.
Jenny is humming softly as she chops vegetables, completely unaware of the storm brewing inside me. Her betrayal feels like a knife twisted in my gut. How could she do this? I wonder. How could she pretend everything was fine?
«Dressing’s in the fridge, too,» she says without looking up.
I nod, even though she can’t see me, and open the fridge again. The mundane act of preparing dinner feels surreal, like I’m moving through a dream. I need to confront her, but not now. Not like this. I need a plan.
Dinner is a blur. Jenny chatters about her yoga class, a new pose she’s mastered, and plans for the weekend. I nod in the right places, forcing myself to act normal. Inside, I’m seething, my mind racing with thoughts of revenge. She doesn’t deserve my anger tonight. No, she deserves something far more devastating.
As I clear the dishes, an idea begins to take shape. It’s dark, and it’s risky, but it’s perfect. I need to make her feel the same humiliation, the same betrayal. She needs to understand the gravity of what she’s done.
“Mike, are you okay?” Jenny asks, her brow furrowed. “You seem… off.”
I plaster on a reassuring smile. “Just tired,” I say. “Work’s been stressful.”
She nods sympathetically. “I get it. Maybe we can take a weekend trip soon. Just the two of us?”
The irony of her suggestion isn’t lost on me. “Yeah, that sounds great,” I say, my mind already whirring with plans for a very different kind of getaway.
Later that night, as Jenny sleeps peacefully beside me, I lie awake, staring at the ceiling. My heart races with anticipation and dread. The plan is forming, each detail more sinister than the last. She won’t see it coming. She won’t know what hit her.
I reach for my phone and begin making notes, crafting my strategy with meticulous care. This will take time, but it will be worth it. I need to make sure everything is perfect. Jenny’s life is about to change in ways she can’t even imagine.
I glance at her one last time, her face serene in the moonlight. My resolve hardens. This isn’t just about revenge. This is about reclaiming my dignity, my sense of self. She shattered my trust, and now, I’ll shatter her world.
Tomorrow, the game begins. And I intend to win.
Chapter 2:
The morning sun filters through the bedroom window, casting a soft glow across the room. Jenny stirs beside me, her movements gentle and content. I roll out of bed, my mind already racing with the day’s plans. Today, the game truly begins.
In the kitchen, I start the coffee maker and begin cooking breakfast. The scent of bacon and eggs fills the air as Jenny walks in, still in her pajamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
«Morning, love,» she says, stretching her arms above her head.
«Morning,» I reply, keeping my tone light. «I made your favorite.»
She smiles, her eyes lighting up. «You’re the best. What’s the occasion?»
«Just felt like treating you,» I say, shrugging. «Maybe we can have a nice breakfast before you head to work.»
She sits at the table, her smile lingering. «Sounds perfect.»
As we eat, I casually bring up the idea of a weekend trip. «I was thinking, maybe we could take that trip you mentioned. How about we visit some friends? You know, make it a social thing.»
Jenny’s eyes sparkle with interest. «That sounds great! Who did you have in mind?»
«I was thinking Clara and Tom,» I say, watching her reaction closely. «We haven’t seen them in a while.»
Her smile falters slightly, but she quickly recovers. «That would be fun. I’ll give Clara a call later and see if they’re up for it.»
«Great,» I say, hiding my satisfaction. «I’ll handle the arrangements.»
After breakfast, Jenny heads to the shower while I clean up the kitchen. My phone buzzes on the counter, a text from my best friend, Mark. He’s always been my confidant, and I know I need his help with this.
“Can you meet up later? Need to talk. Urgent,” I text him.
The response is almost immediate. “Sure thing. Usual spot at 6?”
“Perfect. See you then.”
The day drags on, each hour filled with mundane tasks that barely register as I go through the motions. My mind is consumed with the plan, each step meticulously considered. When 6 p.m. finally rolls around, I head to our usual bar, a quiet place on the edge of town where we can talk freely.
Mark is already there, nursing a beer. His sandy hair is tousled, and his expression is concerned as I slide into the booth across from him.
«Mike, what’s going on?» he asks, leaning forward.
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. «I found out Jenny’s been cheating on me.»
Mark’s eyes widen in shock. «What? How did you find out?»
I recount the details, my voice low and controlled. The email, the betrayal, the humiliation. By the time I finish, Mark is shaking his head in disbelief.
«That’s… I don’t even know what to say, man. I’m so sorry.»
«Thanks,» I say, feeling a flicker of gratitude. «But I need your help. I have a plan, and I need you to be part of it.»
Mark listens as I outline my idea, his expression shifting from concern to a mix of intrigue and unease.
«Are you sure about this?» he asks when I finish. «It sounds risky.»
«I’m sure,» I say firmly. «I need her to feel the same pain she caused me. I need her to know what it’s like to be betrayed.»
Mark nods slowly. «Alright. I’m in. What do you need me to do?»
«First, I need you to help me gather some information. I need to know everything about this guy she’s been seeing. Where he works, his routine, everything.»
Mark agrees, and we spend the next hour planning our next moves. By the time I leave the bar, I feel a strange sense of calm. The pieces are falling into place.
When I get home, Jenny is in the living room, flipping through a magazine. She looks up and smiles as I walk in. «How was your evening?»
«Good,» I say, keeping my voice neutral. «Just caught up with Mark.»
«That’s nice,» she says, her smile genuine. «I talked to Clara. She and Tom are free next weekend, so we can go visit.»
«Perfect,» I say, my mind already racing with plans for the trip. «It’s going to be a weekend to remember.»
The following days are a blur of preparation. Mark proves invaluable, digging up everything he can about Jenny’s affair partner. His name is Adam, a corporate executive with a predictable routine. He works long hours and frequents a particular bar downtown. The perfect target.
The weekend arrives, and we pack our bags for the trip to Clara and Tom’s. Jenny is excited, her mood infectious as we drive out of the city. I play along, masking my true feelings with practiced ease.
Clara and Tom greet us warmly, their home a picturesque suburban dream. As we settle in, I notice Clara casting curious glances in my direction, her eyes lingering a bit too long. She knows, I realize. She knows about the affair. The thought fuels my resolve.
That evening, as we sit around the dinner table, I steer the conversation toward relationships and trust. «You know,» I say casually, «I’ve been thinking a lot about how important trust is in a marriage. Don’t you agree, Clara?»
Clara shifts uncomfortably, her gaze flicking to Jenny. «Uh, yes, absolutely. Trust is everything.»
Jenny looks puzzled, her brow furrowing slightly. «Why are we talking about this?»
«Just a thought,» I say, smiling. «It’s interesting to hear different perspectives.»
Tom, oblivious to the undercurrents, laughs. «Well, trust and a good sense of humor, right? Keeps things from getting too serious.»
The conversation moves on, but I can see the tension in Jenny’s shoulders. She knows something is off, but she can’t quite put her finger on it.
Later, as we retire to our guest room, Jenny turns to me, concern etched on her face. «Mike, is everything okay? You’ve been acting… strange.»
I take her hand, my expression sincere. «I’m fine. Just thinking about us, about our future. I want to make sure we’re on the same page.»
Her eyes soften, and she leans in to kiss me. «We are, Mike. We are.»
As she falls asleep, I lie awake, the wheels turning in my mind. Tomorrow, I will set the final part of my plan into motion. The game is far from over, and Jenny has no idea what’s coming.
Chapter 3:
The next morning, sunlight spills through the window, warming the room. I sit up slowly, careful not to wake Jenny. The events of the past week churn in my mind, blending into the day’s plan. The final piece of the puzzle needs to be put in place.
As I head downstairs, Clara is in the kitchen, pouring coffee. She glances up and offers a small, almost forced smile.
«Morning, Mike. Coffee?» she asks, holding up the pot.
«Please,» I reply, taking a seat at the table. Clara hands me a mug, and I take a sip, savoring the bitter warmth.
«Clara, can we talk?» I ask, keeping my tone casual.
She freezes for a moment, then nods. «Sure, what’s up?»
I lower my voice, leaning in. «I know about Jenny and Adam.»
Clara’s eyes widen, and she sets the coffee pot down with a clatter. «Mike, I—»
«It’s okay,» I say quickly, raising a hand to stop her. «I’m not here to blame you. I just need your help.»
Clara looks conflicted, glancing toward the stairs. «What do you need?»
«I need you to get Adam to the bar he usually goes to tonight,» I say. «Tell him Jenny will be there. She needs to see him.»
Clara’s face pales. «Mike, that’s…»
«Please, Clara. I need to do this.»
She hesitates, then nods slowly. «Okay. I’ll text him.»
«Thank you,» I say, feeling a mixture of relief and anticipation. «Just keep it between us.»
Jenny comes downstairs a few minutes later, her hair damp from the shower. She smiles brightly, oblivious to the tension between Clara and me.
«Morning, love,» she says, giving me a quick kiss. «What’s the plan for today?»
«I thought we could explore the town a bit,» I suggest, keeping my tone light. «Maybe grab lunch somewhere nice.»
«Sounds great,» she replies, her eyes sparkling.
We spend the day wandering through the quaint town, visiting small shops and cafes. Jenny is in high spirits, and I play along, masking the turmoil beneath my calm exterior.
As evening falls, we return to Clara and Tom’s house. Jenny heads upstairs to freshen up, and I find Clara in the kitchen again, her expression tense.
«Did you do it?» I ask quietly.
She nods. «Adam will be at the bar at eight. He thinks Jenny is meeting him.»
«Perfect,» I say. «Thank you, Clara. You’ve done the right thing.»
«I hope so,» she murmurs, turning back to the sink.
At seven-thirty, I tell Jenny I have a surprise for her. She looks intrigued as I lead her to the car, her curiosity piqued.
«Where are we going?» she asks.
«You’ll see,» I reply, driving us to the bar. My heart pounds as we approach, the weight of the plan pressing down on me.
We arrive at the bar, a dimly lit place with a worn sign. I park the car and turn to Jenny. «Wait here for a minute. I’ll be right back.»
She looks puzzled but nods. «Okay.»
I walk into the bar, scanning the room for Adam. He’s sitting at a table near the back, nursing a drink. He looks up as I approach, confusion flickering across his face.
«Adam?» I ask, my voice steady.
«Yeah. Do I know you?» he asks, his brow furrowing.
«You will,» I say, pulling out my phone. «I have a message for you.»
He watches warily as I press play on the recording I made of Jenny’s confession from our last argument, the one where she admitted to everything in a moment of guilt.
The color drains from Adam’s face as he listens. «What the hell is this?» he mutters, looking around nervously.
«This is me showing you that I know everything,» I say, my voice low. «And now, you’re going to tell her it’s over. Right now.»
Adam swallows hard, glancing at the door. «She’s here?»
«Yes. And you’re going to break it off, or this recording goes public. Your job, your reputation—gone.»
He looks like he might argue, but then he nods reluctantly. «Fine. Let’s get this over with.»
We walk back to the car, Adam trailing behind me. Jenny’s eyes widen as she sees him approach.
«Adam? What’s going on?» she asks, her voice tinged with panic.
Adam shifts uncomfortably. «Jenny, it’s over. I can’t do this anymore.»
Her face pales, her eyes darting between us. «What? Why? What’s happening?»
I step forward, my expression cold. «It’s over, Jenny. I know everything.»
Tears well up in her eyes as she realizes the truth. «Mike, please, I—»
«Save it,» I snap, cutting her off. «You’ve made your choices. Now, you face the consequences.»
Adam looks at me, then back at Jenny. «I’m sorry, Jenny. This isn’t worth it. Goodbye.»
He turns and walks away, leaving Jenny standing there, trembling.
I look at her, my heart hardening. «Get in the car. We’re going home.»
The drive back is silent, the air thick with tension. Jenny sobs quietly beside me, but I keep my eyes on the road, my mind already moving to the next phase of my plan.
When we arrive home, Jenny collapses onto the couch, her body shaking with sobs. I stand over her, my anger barely contained.
«How could you?» I ask, my voice low and dangerous. «How could you betray me like that?»
She looks up at me, her eyes red and swollen. «Mike, I’m so sorry. I made a terrible mistake.»
«It’s too late for apologies,» I say coldly. «You’ve destroyed everything.»
She sobs harder, her body convulsing with each breath. I turn away, unable to look at her any longer.
«I need some air,» I say, grabbing my jacket. «Don’t wait up.»
I leave the house, the night air cool against my skin. I walk aimlessly, my mind racing. The satisfaction I expected to feel is overshadowed by a hollow ache. The reality of what I’ve done begins to sink in, but I push it aside. This is what she deserves, I tell myself.
As I walk, I pull out my phone and dial Mark’s number. He answers on the second ring.
«Mike? How did it go?»
«It’s done,» I say, my voice flat. «He broke it off in front of her.»
There’s a pause. «And Jenny?»
«She’s devastated,» I admit. «But it’s not over. I need to make sure she understands the full extent of her betrayal.»
«Mike, maybe you should take a step back,» Mark says, his tone cautious. «You’ve already hurt her. Maybe that’s enough.»
«No,» I say firmly. «It’s not enough. She needs to feel the same humiliation, the same pain.»
Mark sighs. «Alright. Just be careful, okay?»
«I will,» I promise, hanging up.
As I wander through the empty streets, a new plan begins to form. Jenny’s world is already crumbling, but I need to make sure it falls apart completely. She needs to lose everything she holds dear, just as I have.
By the time I return home, the house is silent. Jenny is asleep on the couch, her face streaked with tears. I look at her for a long moment, a mixture of anger and sadness swirling inside me.
Tomorrow, I think, the final phase begins. And when it’s over, she’ll know exactly what she’s done.
Chapter 4:
The next morning dawns gray and somber, mirroring the heaviness in my heart. I wake early, leaving Jenny still sleeping on the couch, her face peaceful despite the turmoil of the previous night. I move quietly around the house, preparing for the final stage of my plan.
I text Mark, letting him know the final details, and then head to the study to retrieve the documents I’ve been gathering. These papers are the culmination of weeks of planning—a detailed account of Jenny’s infidelity, the financial transactions tied to her secret spending, and the evidence needed to ensure she feels the full weight of her betrayal.
Jenny stirs as I return to the living room, blinking groggily at me. “Mike? What time is it?”
“It’s early,” I say, sitting down across from her. “We need to talk.”
She sits up, rubbing her eyes. “Mike, I know I messed up, but please, let’s try to fix this.”
“I’ve made my decision, Jenny,” I say, my voice firm but calm. “There’s no going back.”
Her eyes well up with tears, but she nods, seemingly resigned. “What do you want me to do?”
“Sign these,” I say, handing her the papers. “They’re divorce papers. I’ve also included a settlement agreement. You’ll get the house, but I’m keeping the savings and the car.”
Her hands tremble as she takes the documents, her eyes scanning the pages. “Mike, I—”
“Sign them,” I interrupt, my patience wearing thin. “It’s the least you can do after everything.”
She hesitates but eventually picks up the pen and signs each page, her tears falling onto the paper, smudging the ink. I take the documents from her, feeling a strange mix of satisfaction and sadness.
“I’m leaving,” I say, standing up. “Mark is coming to help me move my things. You’ll have the house to yourself.”
Jenny’s eyes widen in surprise. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” I say, heading to the door. “Goodbye, Jenny.”
Mark arrives shortly after, and we spend the next few hours packing up my belongings. He doesn’t ask many questions, sensing the finality of my decision. By noon, the car is loaded, and I’m ready to leave the life I once knew behind.
As I drive away, I can’t help but glance in the rearview mirror, watching the house grow smaller until it disappears entirely. The weight of the past weeks begins to lift, replaced by a sense of freedom. But there’s one more thing I need to do before I can truly move on.
I drive to the address I found in the background check I had Mark run on Adam. It’s a modest apartment building in the city, far from the suburban life Jenny and I shared. I park the car and walk up to the front door, my heart pounding with anticipation.
A woman answers the door, her expression wary. “Can I help you?”
“Is Adam here?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
She eyes me suspiciously but nods. “Hold on a minute.”
Adam appears a moment later, looking as though he’s just rolled out of bed. His eyes widen when he sees me. “Mike? What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk,” I say, my voice cold. “It’s about Jenny.”
His face pales, but he steps outside, closing the door behind him. “What do you want?”
“I know about the affair,” I say, my anger barely contained. “And I know you’re married.”
Adam’s eyes widen in panic. “How did you—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap. “What matters is that I’ve decided not to expose you. Not yet, anyway.”
He looks at me, confusion and fear in his eyes. “What do you want from me?”
“I want you to understand the pain you’ve caused,” I say, my voice low and dangerous. “You and Jenny destroyed my life. But I’m giving you a chance to make it right.”
“How?” he asks, his voice trembling.
“I want you to leave her alone,” I say. “No more contact, no more lies. If you don’t, I’ll make sure your wife knows everything.”
Adam swallows hard, nodding slowly. “Okay. I’ll stay away from her. I promise.”
“Good,” I say, turning to leave. “And one more thing—if I find out you’ve broken your promise, there won’t be a second chance.”
As I drive away, I feel a sense of closure. The final piece of my plan is in place, and I can finally move on.
Months pass, and I start to rebuild my life. I find a new apartment, throw myself into work, and reconnect with old friends. The pain of Jenny’s betrayal slowly fades, replaced by a sense of hope.
One evening, as I’m sitting in my new living room, my phone buzzes with a text message. It’s from Clara.
“Mike, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.”
I call her immediately, my heart pounding. “Clara, what’s wrong?”
“It’s Jenny,” she says, her voice trembling. “She’s in the hospital.”
I feel a chill run down my spine. “What happened?”
“She had a breakdown,” Clara says. “She’s been struggling since the divorce, and I think… I think she might have tried to hurt herself.”
My mind races as I process her words. Despite everything, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt and concern.
“Which hospital?” I ask, already grabbing my keys.
She gives me the address, and I drive there as fast as I can, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. When I arrive, Clara is waiting for me in the lobby, her face pale and drawn.
“She’s stable,” she says, leading me to Jenny’s room. “But she’s in a bad place, Mike.”
I walk into the room, and my heart aches at the sight of Jenny lying in the hospital bed, her eyes closed, her face pale. I sit down beside her, taking her hand in mine.
“Jenny,” I whisper, my voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”
Her eyes flutter open, and she looks at me, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mike, I didn’t know what else to do. I’ve lost everything.”
I squeeze her hand, feeling a wave of regret. “I never wanted this for you. I was so angry, and I thought… I thought I could make things right by hurting you back.”
“I understand,” she says, her voice barely a whisper. “But I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live with the guilt.”
“We’ll get through this,” I say, my resolve strengthening. “I’ll help you, Jenny. We’ll find a way to move forward.”
As we sit there, holding each other’s hands, I realize that the path to healing won’t be easy. But for the first time, I feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe, just maybe, we can find a way to rebuild our lives—separately, but with a newfound understanding and forgiveness.
And in that moment, I know that revenge isn’t the answer. Love, forgiveness, and the willingness to move forward—that’s the true path to healing.
