14/01/2026
I found out my husband booked a romantic dinner with his mistress — so I showed up as the chef.
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I'm 33, and for months I'd been living a quiet double life. After our second child, I left my high-pressure chef job in the city. I loved it — the noise, the heat, the chaos — but maternity leave made me realize I wanted to be home.
Instead of returning to a big restaurant kitchen, I started baking from our small Midwestern one, taking custom orders for cakes and pastries.
I'd only been doing it a few months, secretly saving for something special — a family vacation for the four of us. Somewhere sunny. Somewhere to reconnect.
Aaron, my husband, had pushed hard for a second child. But once the baby arrived, something changed. He stopped looking at me the same way.
He grew distant, distracted, cold. I tried talking, tried fixing whatever was breaking between us, but he brushed me off.
So I focused on the kids, on work, and on planning that trip. I thought maybe a break would save us.
Then I found out.
One lazy Saturday morning, scrolling Facebook, I saw it — a reservation confirmation at a fancy restaurant. Table for two. Not for us. For him… and ANOTHER WOMAN.
My stomach dropped, but I didn't cry. I'd spent months sharpening my skills again — sauces, plating, desserts. Suddenly, I knew exactly what to do.
The restaurant was small but upscale. I applied as a temp chef under a pseudonym. They needed help. I got hired.
That evening, Aaron walked in with his mistress — tall, blonde, flawless. He looked smug, like he'd gotten away with something.
From the kitchen, I watched them sit. I watched him whisper, smile, reach for her hand.
I started with appetizers.
But if only he and his mistress had known what I'd prepared for dessert — a final course seasoned perfectly with karma. ⬇️⬇️⬇️
