My husband Brian surprised me with a spa weekend—he said it was to prep me for a family vacation where he’d receive a work award. Blissful spa time, until my friend Laura texted a photo: Brian, our kids, his parents…and his assistant Jennifer, all too cozy. Holding hands. Kissing.
He sent me away so he could parade his mistress. I booked a flight. That night, at his award ceremony, I slipped a note to his boss and had them read it aloud: Brian lied—he used the spa trip to replace me with his assistant on our family vacation. The room went silent as I walked on stage: “Surprise!”
Brian stuttered. His parents were stunned. Jennifer fled, chastised by his mom. I confronted Brian there, publicly announcing our divorce. The fallout was immediate: he lost respect, custody negotiations began, and we moved out with the kids. His parents sided with me.
Six months later, I ran into Jennifer. She apologized—unaware she was complicit in his deception. I walked away. A year on, I’m thriving: my kids are happy, my career is strong, and I’ve even started dating. Brian still works at the same company but was passed over for promotion. Karma, it seems, just needed a red dress.