I always knew about my husband’s affair… And one day, I devised the perfect plan for revenge.
It’s true what they say—nothing stays hidden forever. I had long been aware that my husband had someone else. He thought he was cunning: late nights at work, a phone that was constantly off, sudden “business trips.” But a woman knows. And I knew. I kept quiet. Not because I was weak, but because I was gathering strength. I needed time. To strike precisely, coldly, and for good.
I didn’t want drama, humiliation, or sympathy. I wanted revenge, the kind he’d remember for the rest of his life. And I got it.
First, I filed for divorce—without his knowledge. I did everything quietly, professionally, and legally. The summonses that arrived by mail, I simply destroyed. All three of them. He never saw a single one. And when the court made its decision, he was completely unaware. We were officially no longer husband and wife. Quick, silent, just like I wanted.
The second part of my plan was more complex, but I managed. I persuaded him to take out a loan—supposedly for the down payment on a new home for us. He hesitated a bit, but I was more convincing than ever. He received the money and put it in a box in our closet, thinking it would be more convenient to hand over the sum all at once.
The next day, I left for my mum’s with our son, quietly taking all the money from the box before leaving. He didn’t even realize what had happened. By evening, he was calling me with a panicked voice, saying the money had disappeared. That he was sure his lover had taken it. How sorry he was. Begging for forgiveness.
I played the role of the betrayed wife to perfection: sobbing, accusations, shouting. Then I kicked him out of the house. He left, without the slightest idea that we were already divorced. By then, I had already rented a cosy flat in Manchester, where our son and I began our new life. The money from that box covered a few months’ rent.
The next day he returned—with a bunch of roses, tearful eyes, pleading for forgiveness. But instead of a welcome, I handed him the divorce papers. He threw a fit, shouting that I wouldn’t survive without him, that I couldn’t manage, claiming I’d regret it in a week.
I quietly shut the door behind him.
Later, I found out he tried to return to that woman, but she turned her back on him as soon as she learned about his debts. The debts he had taken for us. Or rather, for himself.
Now, he lives with his mother, buried in debt, dreaming of getting me back. But that will never happen. I’ve broken free. I’ve burned it all down. I destroyed him just as he once destroyed me.
Now, I have a new life. Without lies. Without betrayal. I’m in a warm home with my son, making plans, breathing freely, and I don’t regret my actions for a single moment. Revenge isn’t always evil. Sometimes, it’s liberation. And yes, my plan worked flawlessly.
I won.
