On our anniversary night, I stood dressed to the nines, waiting for my husband. Then a cake arrived, iced in gold letters: “Time to call it quits!” An hour later, I was boarding a flight to find out what really happened.
I’d always felt marriage fit me well. It wasn’t flawless, but with Thomas, I felt cherished and grounded. Our first year as a married couple was full of cozy evenings, deep talks, and giggles over Sunday pancakes that were always a little too burnt.
That’s why I spent two full weeks planning the perfect celebration for our one-year anniversary.
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Two weeks. Can you believe it?
Everything needed to be flawless. I poured countless hours into hunting down the perfect duck à l’orange recipe—even cooked it twice just to nail it. And naturally, there was the present.
I could still picture the way he lingered outside that shop window a few months back, eyeing that sleek designer tie. It was one of those brief, passing glances men give when they spot something they want but convince themselves they can live without.
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But I noticed. And I never forgot.
At last, everything was perfect – the table arranged just so, candlelight dancing across the room, me standing there in my favorite dress, brimming with joy.
Then my phone buzzed to life.
“Hey babe,” Thomas said, his tone… disturbingly relaxed. “I’m already on my way to the airport.”
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My brow furrowed. “Which airport?”
“Emergency summit. Big clients – you understand how these things go…”
I shut my eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled.
“Thomas…today’s our anniversary.”
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“And I haven’t forgotten! I’ll make it right, I swear, once I’m home.”
That line echoed in my head. Make it right…
I glanced at the carefully arranged dinner table. I could see myself sitting there, alone, in the dress I’d picked just for him.
“Sure. Have a safe flight.”
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“Thanks, babe. Love you.”
I wasn’t about to let the night go sour. Rather than mope, I chose to indulge in a long, soothing bubble bath.
The moment I melted into the steamy water, the doorbell chimed. With a groan, I grabbed a towel, wrapped it around me, and walked to the front door. A courier stood waiting, holding a big white box wrapped with a bold red ribbon.
“Anna?”
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I gave a small nod.
“Got a delivery for you,” he said, passing the package over.
“Who sent it?”
“No name—just says anonymous. Enjoy your night!”
I closed the door, walked back to the table, and fixed my eyes on the box.
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For a brief moment, my heart fluttered.
Had Thomas actually planned something unexpected? I adore surprises!
Gently, I loosened the ribbon and removed the top. Nestled inside was a cake. The sweet scent of buttercream instantly wafted up. But it wasn’t the dessert that left me stunned—it was the message scripted across it in graceful golden letters.
“It’s time to get divorced!”
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My thoughts tumbled over each other, desperate for reason.
Was this some sick joke? A terrible misunderstanding? Had something gotten horribly mixed up?
Then my eyes caught it – a tiny envelope peeking from under the lid.
“Hope you handle this better than he did. XOXO.”
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Mistress? How could this…
My phone’s sudden ringing startled me. Gloria’s name flashed on the screen. My husband’s mother. My finger hovered before accepting the call.
“Anna, sweetheart! Anniversary blessings!”
I forced down the lump in my throat, barely whispering, “Thanks…”
“Tell me, dear – do you love the ring?” she gushed. “Thomas swore it was perfection!”
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A chill ran down my spine.
Because I never got a ring. Thomas always gave his gifts first thing in the morning on special days. Always. That was his signature.
But today? Nothing.
“Oh… it’s lovely,” I said, forcing a smile.
“Such a pity Thomas had to leave today,” Gloria sighed with flair. “But what a perfect chance for a surprise!”
“A surprise?”
“Absolutely! He mentioned he’s staying at,” she laughed, “the same hotel you two once visited, remember? So romantic! I know how impulsive you are, Anna. Grab a ticket and surprise him!”
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Something deep within me suddenly made sense.
The cake. That message. The engagement ring that never came. This wasn’t random. Could Thomas be having an affair?
My throat tightened. I shut my eyes briefly, trying to gather myself.
“That’s a fantastic suggestion, Gloria,” I said with a sugar-sweet tone. “I’ll book a flight immediately.”
“Oh, how thrilling! I’m dying to hear everything.”
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“Of course,” I murmured, my eyes locked on that damned cake. “Thanks for letting me know.”
The call disconnected with a hollow click.
Time suspended as I stood there – the cake, the venomous note, the dying candle flames that were supposed to mark a celebration.
In one fluid motion, I snatched my bag and purchased a one-way ticket.
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I barely made the final boarding call, dashing through the terminal as my bag thumped against my side. My thoughts outpaced my frantic strides.
Was this reckless? Would I regret what awaited me?
By touchdown, weariness weighed me down, but nervous energy propelled me forward. My fingers shook as I confirmed the room number—the digits the sympathetic front desk clerk had slipped me after my hurried explanation and strategic cake reveal.
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Room 614.
At last, standing just outside the door, my heartbeat thundered so loudly it echoed in my ears. I inhaled deeply. Knocked once.
The door opened—and my knees nearly gave out.
A brunette. Stunning. Her dark hair flowed in perfect waves, draped over one bare shoulder like it belonged in a magazine. The silk dress hugged every curve, as if it had been made with one cruel intention—to make a wife feel invisible.
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Behind her, sprawled across the bed, were Thomas’s clothes. My breath hitched.
She lounged casually against the doorway, deliberate and calm, a sly, satisfied smile spreading across her lips.
“Thomas is rinsing off,” she murmured, scanning me from head to toe. “I’ll be sure to mention you dropped in.”
“Don’t bother.”
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“Oh? Afraid you’ll interrupt something?”
“Something like that,” I replied, adjusting the weight in my arms.
“You seem a little wound up. Maybe try the spa downstairs—best massage in town.”
“Appreciate the tip,” I said with a smile. “But I came prepared. Brought my own way to unwind.”
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In one sharp move, I hurled the cake right into her arrogant, smirking face. A glorious, messy burst of buttercream and fondant sprayed down the corridor.
She screamed, stumbling backward, clawing at her now sugar-drenched hair.
“WHAT THE HELL…?! HAVE YOU LOST IT?!” she howled, blinking furiously as vanilla frosting clung to her lashes.
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“Maybe,” I conceded, crossing the threshold.
“You—you absolute monster!” she screamed, snatching a cushion and launching it at my head.
I sidestepped with ease.
“Meant to hit your pride, but seems you were fresh out,” I smirked.
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She charged at me, swinging wildly, but her frosting-slicked heels failed her. She crashed to the floor in a humiliating, limbs-flailing spectacle. I strode right past her.
“Make sure you invoice me for the cleaning!”
I marched toward the bathroom, pulse roaring, prepared to tear Thomas to pieces…
Then I froze mid-step.
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There she was—draped in a fluffy white robe, sipping champagne like she owned a suite at some luxury resort—Gloria.
My mother-in-law. She raised her glass in a slow, mocking toast, lips curled in a smirk.
“Oh,” she drawled. “You weren’t supposed to storm in. That’s not really… your style, sweetheart.”
“What?”
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“You’re usually so… timid. I didn’t see this version of you coming.” Her gaze drifted over my rising chest, my tangled hair, the traces of cake clinging to my fingertips. “Almost admirable—for a dull little mouse like you.”
I brushed off the jab.
“Where is Thomas?”
“Oh, he’s holed up in a different hotel. Who abandons his wife on their anniversary? I noticed a window—and I seized it.”
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A smoldering rage crept between my shoulder blades.
“Opportunity for what exactly?”
Gloria exhaled like I was draining her will to live.
“To erase you, darling.”
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“The cake…” My voice came out in a whisper.
She smirked, savoring another deliberate sip.
“Made it from scratch! Wasn’t it delicious?”
“But why would you—?”
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“Oh, sweetheart, you were never quite right for my son. But Alicia…” she waved a hand toward the chaos still unfolding in the other room, “now she’s ideal. A successful model. Gorgeous. Connected in all the right circles. And now you’ve officially met—how charming!”
“You’re delusional. Thomas loves me. You’ll never come between us.”
“Oh, it’s a bit more complicated now,” Gloria said with a casual shrug. “But no worries—I’m very patient.”
“Thomas will learn the truth, and when he does, you’ll wish you hadn’t ruined today for me.”
“And what exactly is your strategy for that, sweetheart?”
I slid my phone from my pocket and raised it where she could see. Gloria stiffened.
“Oops,” I said lightly, tapping the screen. “Did I forget to mention? I rang Thomas the second I stepped inside. And once I noticed that suit didn’t belong to him? I never ended the call.”
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For the first time, Gloria’s smug mask slipped. I tapped speakerphone just as Thomas’s furious voice exploded through the room.
“Mom, this is unbelievable! What the hell were you thinking? We’ll deal with this later.” His tone could have cut glass. “Anna, don’t move – I’m coming now. Meet me downstairs.”
Gloria’s face drained of color. Her master plan? Obliterated in an instant.
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“Have a lovely night,” I cooed, turning toward the exit.
I hesitated, casting one last look at Alicia – still glazed in frosting like a failed pastry.
“Gloria, darling?” I added without turning around. “Brilliant cake recipe. Though it wears better on Alicia than in the box.”
Then I swept out like I owned the place.
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I stood in the hotel lobby, eyeing my reflection in the glass doors. What a disaster.
My hair looked like a bird’s nest, mascara streaked like I’d gone twelve rounds with a raccoon, and frosting clung stubbornly to my sleeve. And still—despite looking like I’d survived a dessert-related war—I felt utterly triumphant.
Behind me, the elevator dinged. Quick footsteps closed in.
I turned just in time to see Thomas stop in front of me, chest heaving, breath caught.
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“I honestly don’t even have words,” he said, dragging a hand through his hair.
“Start with ‘my mom has completely lost it,’” I snapped.
His jaw tightened. “Anna, I swear—I didn’t know…”
“Listen, we’ll sort it out later. For now? I’m absolutely starving.”
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Thomas let out a breath, gave a small nod, and wrapped an arm around my waist as we stepped into the cool night air.
Dinner was more subdued than usual. By the time dessert came, I finally felt the tension in my chest begin to ease. Then, Thomas reached into his jacket and pulled out a tiny velvet box. I slowly set my fork aside.
“Is this… something from your mom?”
Thomas chuckled softly, shaking his head. “No. This one’s actually from me.”
Inside was a breathtaking ring. I brushed my thumb gently over the shimmering stone.
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“My real present is waiting back at the house.”
Thomas leaned closer, grinning. “Please don’t say it’s another cake.”
“No. But if you ever ditch me for a business trip on our anniversary again… then yes. And it won’t be sweet.”
He laughed, fingers wrapping around mine. That night, we celebrated. It wasn’t flawless. But it was ours.
I knew more battles with his mother were inevitable. But I’d drawn a line in the sand that evening—one she wouldn’t cross so easily again.
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