They say revenge is a dish best served cold. I served mine chilled, frosted, and delivered in a bakery box.
It all started with a gut feeling—the kind you can’t shake even when you want to believe you’re just being paranoid. My husband, Taylor, had been distant, taking more “late nights” at work than usual. His phone became an extra limb he guarded like a dragon hoarding gold. And then one day, while he was in the shower, the screen lit up with a message that changed everything:
“Babe, I miss you so much, when are you coming over? ❤️”
Curiosity burned hotter than my fear. One swipe later, the truth unfolded like a rotten flower: weeks of flirty texts with someone named “Taylor S.” (ironically, his own name). The kicker? He called me “his stupid wife” in one of the messages.
That was the moment…..
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