“Love, could you pick me up from work?” she called her husband, hoping to avoid a weary forty-minute bus ride after a gruelling day.
“Sweetheart, can you fetch me from the office?” Philippa rang her husband, praying she wouldnt have to endure the crowded coach following an exhausting shift.
“Im busy,” replied Michael curtly. In the background, the telly blaredproof enough he was lounging at home.
A deep melancholy settled over Philippa. Their marriage was unravelling, and only six months ago, Michael had vowed to carry her in his arms. What had changed so swiftly? She didnt understand.
She kept herself fit, spending hours at the gym. Her cooking was sublimeno surprise, given she worked at a bustling eatery. Never once had she demanded money, nor thrown a tantrum. Always ready to fulfil his every whim
“Youll wear him out like this,” her mum would sigh, hearing her grievances. “A man cant be spoiled rotten.”
“I just love him,” the young woman would answer with a helpless smile. “And he loves me”
*****
“So, he grew tired,” Philippa thought, biting her lip as she scrolled through the browser history. Michael spent all his free time on dating sites, chatting up countless women. “Why not just tell me? Id have understood. Why suffer, trapped with a woman you dont love?”
Divorce, then. She was strongshed survive. But she wouldnt let him off without a little revenge
That very night, she signed up on the same site, found his profile, and began messaging. Snatching a random photo online, she touched it up, certain hed take the bait. He did.
Their exchange was fervent. Michael claimed he was single, eager for commitment, for children. He boasted of his golden heart, making Philippa laugh until tears streamed down her cheeks. She knew better than anyone how difficult he truly was.
“Lets meet,” she typed, awaiting his reply.
“Brilliant!” came the instant response. “Though my sisters crashing at mine, revising for entrance exams. Well grab a drink first, then head to a hotel?”
“Really?” Philippa whispered, staring at the screen. “Who proposes that straight off? Any decent woman would be insulted!” But it served her purpose.
“How about my place? A cottage on the outskirts, all to ourselves” Would he bite?
“Perfect!” Michael clearly fancied saving a few quid. “Send the address. Ill be there on loves wings.”
“25 **** Lane, ten tonight. Suit you?”
“Absolutely! Expect me.”
By nine, Michael feigned an urgent work call. His car keys vanishedhad his wife seen them?
“On the table,” Philippa answered innocently, the keys snug in her pocket. “Maybe the cat took them?”
But she had no intention of waiting. Why bother? She packed her things swiftly. Luckily, she owned a flat left by her gran. The only thing left behinda divorce form, placed conspicuously on the table.
Michael returned at dawn, fuming. Not only had the journey taken ages, but the lovely “Annabel” from the site was nowhere to be found.
The address was real, the cottage too. But the woman who answered the door wasnt the model from the photo. She was twice his size, clad in a sheer dressing gowna sight hed pay good money to forget.
Extricating himself was a battle! He had to call a cab, shivering in his thin jacket as he waited. The driver, a stranger, took him on a detour through nowhere Quite the lively night.
Only when he stumbled into the flat and saw the divorce papers did it click. Beside them, scrawled in red lipstick:
“This sweet revenge”
