The Anniversary Gift That Changed My Life
Emily studied her reflection in the mirror. Today, she looked especially lovely—her hair neatly styled, makeup flawless, and delicate jewellery chosen with care. It had to be perfect—after all, today marked her wedding anniversary with Paul.
The celebration was in full swing. Guests approached the couple one by one, offering congratulations and gifts while laughter and music filled the air. Emily smiled, yet deep down, she felt oddly restless—as if something significant was about to unfold.
When the time came to exchange presents, Emily took the microphone:
“Well, darling, our turn has finally come. I do hope you’ll like my gift,” she said, locking eyes with her husband.
The banquet hall doors swung open, and several men carried in a large box draped in vibrant fabric. Paul, intrigued, rose from his seat—but as the covering fell away, his face froze in shock.
Hours before the party, Emily had sat in the bedroom, rereading a message on her husband’s phone. Each word cut like a knife. “I miss you madly… counting the hours until I see you again,” read the text from his mistress.
But what truly shattered Emily wasn’t the betrayal itself—it was the woman he’d chosen. She was nearly fifteen years his senior, heavyset, and far from society’s beauty standards. Yet Paul had picked her.
Hearing footsteps, Emily quickly deleted the messages and set the phone down just as Paul strolled in, whistling cheerfully. A bonus at work had put him in high spirits, already dreaming of whisking “his Charlotte” away on holiday.
Noticing his wife’s sombre expression, he hesitated.
“Something wrong? You seem off.”
“Everything’s fine,” Emily replied coolly. “Just thinking about tonight. By the way, I’ll need some money for the party arrangements.”
“Of course, no problem,” he smiled.
Even she didn’t understand her own calmness. In the past, his infidelities had left her hysterical, threatening divorce. Now, she remained silent. Something inside her had shifted.
Paul stepped onto the balcony to send another love note to Charlotte, while Emily recalled the times she’d forgiven him before. His mother had always excused him:
“Men are like cats—if they’re warm and fed at home, they’ll always return. Don’t make a scene, darling. You’ll only have yourself to blame if you lose him.”
His father chimed in:
“Stop complaining! Paul’s a good man—works hard, provides. What more could you want?”
But Emily knew the truth. This “good man” strayed whenever opportunity arose, just as his father had for years—only better at hiding it.
She remembered growing up in a home where cheating was unthinkable, where her parents taught her self-respect. But in Paul’s family, it was normalised—”Just endure it; things will get better.”
Friends urged her to leave while she could. But where would she go? With three children and no steady income? Moving back with her parents wasn’t an option—her brother’s family already lived there. And despite everything, part of her still loved Paul—for their school days together, their first whispered confessions, their children.
Maybe his mother was right. Maybe he’d “sow his wild oats” and settle down.
But that message, dripping with affection for another woman, sliced through her heart anew. She knew—this agony had to end.
Emily called an event planning agency. The owner, a man named Leonard, listened patiently as she fought back tears, explaining her situation.
“You should live for yourself and your children,” he said softly. “Why tolerate someone who doesn’t value you?”
In that moment, her plan took shape. A plan to end her marriage—once and for all.
The anniversary party was held at a grand countryside manor. Guests included family, friends, colleagues—and, of course, Charlotte, Paul’s mistress, who smirked smugly from the crowd.
Emily observed quietly from the sidelines, poised in an elegant black dress, heels, and tasteful jewellery.
When the gift exchange began, she took the microphone:
“My dearest Paul! Ten years ago, I chose you as my husband. Since then, I’ve learned that perfect men exist only in fairy tales. But today, I want to thank you for teaching me one invaluable lesson—what a family should *never* be.”
A massive cake was wheeled in. The room held its breath.
The cover was pulled away—and out stepped three scantily clad women: a blonde, a brunette, and a redhead.
Paul gaped in disbelief. Charlotte paled.
Emily stepped closer to her husband.
“Enjoy, darling. You always wanted more ‘variety,’ didn’t you?”
Amidst gasps and murmurs, she took the children’s hands and walked out. Leonard waited by the entrance.
The divorce was messy. Paul raged, accused her of betrayal, of infidelity. But the court granted it without hesitation.
Emily rented a flat, found work. Leonard helped her rebuild—becoming not just her support, but a loving husband and father to her children.
Years later, she never regretted her choice.
Life begins where patience ends. No one has the right to trample your self-worth.
