On our anniversary night, I stood in my best dress, waiting for my husband. Then, a cake arrived with golden lettering: “It’s time to get divorced!” An hour later, I was on a flight to uncover the truth.
Marriage suited me. It wasn’t always perfect, but I felt loved and secure with Thomas. Our first year as husband and wife had been filled with warmth, late-night conversations, and laughter over burnt pancakes on Sunday mornings.
That’s why I spent two weeks preparing for our first wedding anniversary. Two weeks. Can you imagine?
Every detail had to be perfect. I spent hours searching endlessly for the ultimate duck à l’orange recipe, even practicing it twice to ensure it turned out right. And, of course, the gift.
I still remembered how he had paused by the store window a few months ago, staring at that designer tie. It was one of those quick, fleeting moments men had when they saw something they liked but decided they didn’t need.
But I noticed. And I remembered.
Finally, the table was set, the candles flickered, and I stood in my best dress, feeling completely happy.
Suddenly, my phone rang.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Thomas’s voice sounded… casual. “I’m already halfway to the airport.”
I frowned. “What airport?”
“There’s an emergency meeting. Clients, you know how it is…”
I closed my eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out.
“Thomas, today is our anniversary.”
“And I haven’t forgotten! I’ll make it up to you, I promise, as soon as I’m back.”
That phrase stuck in my mind. Make it up…
I looked at the beautifully set table. I pictured myself sitting there, eating alone, wearing that dress I chose just for him.
“Right. Safe flight.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. Love you.”
I didn’t want to ruin my evening. Instead of sulking, I decided to take a long, luxurious bubble bath.
Just as I was sinking into the warmth, the doorbell rang. I sighed, wrapping a towel around myself and heading to the door. A delivery man stood there, holding a large white box tied with a red ribbon.
“Anna?”
I nodded.
“Special delivery,” he said, handing it over.
“Who is it from?”
“Anonymous order. Have a great evening!”
I shut the door, walked to the table, and stared at the box.
For a split second, my heart lifted.
Did Thomas at least arrange a surprise? I love surprises!
I carefully untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. Inside was a cake. The smell of buttercream filled the air. But it wasn’t the cake that stole my breath. It was the message written across the top in elegant golden lettering.
“It’s time to get divorced!”
My mind scrambled for an explanation.
A joke? A cruel mistake? Some kind of mix-up?
And then, I saw a small card tucked beneath the lid.
“Hope you take this as well as he did. XOXO.”
Mistress? But how…
And then my phone rang. It was Gloria. My mother-in-law. I hesitated before answering.
“Anna, darling! Happy anniversary!”
I swallowed, barely managing a muted “Thank you.”
“How do you like the ring?” she chirped. “Thomas said it was exquisite!”
My blood ran cold.
Because I never received a ring. Thomas always gave me gifts in the morning on special occasions. Always. It was his thing.
But today? Nothing.
“Oh… yes, it’s beautiful,” I lied.
“Such a shame Thomas had to leave today,” Gloria sighed dramatically. “But what a wonderful opportunity for a surprise!”
“A surprise?”
“Of course! He told me he’s staying at,” she giggled, “the same hotel where you two once stayed, remember? Oh, how romantic! I know you’re spontaneous, Anna. Buy a ticket and surprise him!”
Something inside me clicked into place.
The cake. The note. The mysterious ring I never got. That wasn’t a coincidence. Is Thomas cheating on me?
My mouth felt dry. I closed my eyes for a moment, steadying my breath.
“That’s a wonderful idea, Gloria,” I said sweetly. “I’ll book a flight right now.”
“Oh, how exciting! Can’t wait to hear all about it.”
“Of course,” I said, staring at the cake one more time. “Thank you for calling.”
I ended the call and set my phone down.
For a long moment, I stood there, staring at the cake, the note, and the flickering candles, which were meant to celebrate something beautiful.
Then, without hesitation, I grabbed my purse and booked the next flight.
I barely reached the last flight, sprinting through the terminal with my bag slamming against my hip. The whole time, my mind raced faster than my legs.
Am I making a mistake? Am I about to walk into something I couldn’t unsee?
Exhaustion sat heavily on my shoulders by the time I landed, but adrenaline kept me upright. My hands trembled as I checked the room number—the number the kind receptionist had so helpfully provided after I quickly explained my situation and casually flashed the cake.
Room 614.
Finally, standing outside the door, my pulse pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears. I took a breath. Knocked.
The door swung open, and I almost fainted.
A brunette. Gorgeous. Effortlessly styled waves of dark hair cascaded over one bare shoulder. Her silk dress clung to her like it had been custom-made for one purpose—to make a wife feel small.
Behind her, on the bed, lay Thomas’s clothes. The air left my lungs.
She leaned against the doorframe, taking her time, her lips curling into a slow, knowing smirk.
“Thomas is in the shower,” she purred, eyeing me up and down. “I’ll let him know you stopped by.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
“Oh? Wouldn’t want to disturb him?”
“Something like that,” I said, shifting the weight in my hands.
And with one swift motion, I smashed the cake straight into her smug little face. A beautifully disgusting explosion of buttercream and fondant splattered across the hallway.
She shrieked, stumbling back, hands flying to her frosting-covered hair.
“WHAT THE…?! ARE YOU INSANE?!”
“Possibly,” I admitted, stepping inside.
My heart pounded. This was only the beginning.
I had more surprises waiting. And I was about to deliver them all.
