It was eight in the morning when the phone started vibrating on the nightstand. I answered sleepily, and a deep voice said:
– Mrs. Philips? Your husband has had an incident… it would be best if you came to the hospital immediately.
I jumped out of bed, my heart racing wildly. I quickly got dressed, threw on my coat, and left the house without eating or drinking water. On the way to the hospital, my thoughts were spinning chaotically: was it an accident, an illness, or something related to his “secret” wife?
When I arrived, I found him on a bed, with a large bandage on his forehead and looking miserable. Around him, two nurses were whispering, casting curious glances at me.
– What happened? I asked, without getting too close.
He avoided looking at me, and the doctor intervened:
– He fell down the stairs at the apartment building, returning last night. Probably in a hurry… and, from what I understand, he wasn’t alone.
I looked at him. His hands were trembling slightly.
– Was he with…? I asked, raising my eyebrows.
The doctor shrugged, but his gaze said it all.
In my mind, revenge was already taking shape. There was no need for elaborate scenarios. Fate had already taken the first step. I just had to complete it.
When he was discharged, I offered to take him home. Instead of going to our apartment, I stopped in front of my parents’ house, in a quiet village where everyone knows each other.
– Why here? he asked suspiciously.
– Because you need someone to take care of you… and I am no longer that person, I replied, getting out of the car.
In the yard, my mom and dad greeted us with surprised looks. We entered the house, and within minutes, the neighbors had already found out that “the gentleman from the city” had been caught with another woman. In the countryside, such news travels faster than the wind.
In the following days, I returned to the apartment and began packing my things. Each item I put in the box reminded me of a lie he had told.
Then I found the printed email invitation to the party. I framed it nicely, and before leaving for good, I left it on the living room table next to a photo of us smiling. On the back of the picture, I wrote: “The truth always comes to light. Cheers!”
I haven’t looked for him since then. The last time I heard about him was from a mutual friend, who told me that his “wife” from the party left him shortly after realizing that the man had neither charm nor money anymore.
Me? I returned to the village for a while, helped my mom with the apple harvest, and felt the peace of home again. There, among the smell of sweet bread and the crackling of wood in the stove, I realized that I hadn’t lost anything valuable. On the contrary, I had freed myself from a burden.
And, as the old saying goes, “The harm done to another always returns to the one who does it.” In his case, it came back faster than I would have thought.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to real events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher do not assume responsibility for the accuracy of events or for how characters are portrayed and are not liable for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed belong to the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
