Here’s a shorter version that keeps the meaning intact:
—
Everyone always said I was kind—maybe too kind. I believed kindness would come back to me eventually. I also believed love would last.
But after the wedding, both goodness and Jack faded. Now he lounged on the couch, glued to his phone.
No more evening walks. No dinner invitations. He never looked up when I stood by the door in my coat, waiting to hear, “Where are you going, Marie?”
That night, asking about a weekend getaway was met with: “Why now? I’ve got work.” When I pointed out we didn’t even have dinner together, he shrugged: “We’re together. What more do you want?” I said nothing.
His phone buzzed. He smiled. My own phone buzzed: Linda asking me to babysit—again. I hesitated—I’d just been there last night—but I agreed: “Fine. I’ll be there in thirty.”
At Linda’s, it was past 2 a.m. and she still hadn’t checked in. I checked the kids—safe—and then felt the familiar tightness in my chest. My inhaler was empty. I borrowed the old one, but breathing felt impossible. Linda’s neighbor Gloria offered to stay while I rushed home for my inhaler.
When I returned, I saw Linda’s car—and heard laughter upstairs. In the bathroom. Jack and Linda. Their clothes lay on the stairs. I burst in: they stared as if I were a stranger. “I trusted you,” I whispered. Jack replied, “I just picked the wrong sister.”
My kindness ended in that moment.
Two weeks later, DNA results arrived: 70% match. Jack was moving in with Linda: “Good luck, honey. This is not over.” I knocked on their new house at sunset and demanded an explanation.
Linda revealed that Tommy was Rick’s son—not Jack’s—and that Rick lavishly supported her so she’d stay silent. It was Jack’s realization that crushed him.
I stood up, calling out, “You picked the wrong sister, Jack.” Then Cindy and Tommy peeked around the corner. I smiled, crouched beside them, and said, “Grab your coats. Ice cream time?”
Tommy whispered, “But Mom…” I pressed my finger to his lips: “Mom needs a break for a bit. Let’s go.” Linda and Jack’s arguments echoed behind me as I stepped into the sunlight holding two small hands.
“Chocolate or strawberry?”
“Both!”
Sometimes, a sweet ending is the revenge you deserve.