“Emma, sweetheart,” I said warmly. “I need your help. Would you come over tomorrow night? I’d love your advice on redecorating my living room.”
Her eyes flickered with hesitation. Then, she smiled—a sly, self-satisfied smirk.
“Oh, of course! I’d love to help!”
Perfect.
The next evening, Emma arrived looking like she was ready for a date—heels, makeup, the whole show.
I welcomed her inside with a sweet smile. “Before we get to the living room, let me show you a few things.”
I led her through the house, stopping at key locations.
“Here’s the dishwasher. You’ll need to load it every night—Mark won’t bother, of course.”
She blinked. “What?”
“The kids’ laundry goes here. Be sure to separate the loads, they’re sensitive to different detergents. And here’s the after-school schedule—you’ll need to pick them up Tuesdays and Thursdays. Oh! And the numbers for the plumber, electrician, and pediatrician. Just in case.”
Her smile was fading.
“This is where you’ll prep meals,” I continued, leading her into the kitchen. “Mark likes his steak medium-rare. The kids, on the other hand, want it dead. Completely charred. Hope you’re good at multitasking!”
Emma’s mouth opened, then closed.
“Uh, Lexie… I’m not sure I understand. I didn’t sign up to babysit.”
Just then, the front door opened.
Mark walked in.
His face drained of color the second he saw us standing together.
“Lex, what’s going on?” he stammered.
I beamed. “Oh! I probably should’ve included you in this conversation. Since you think I’ve ‘let myself go,’ I figured it’s time for me to prioritize myself. So, Emma’s taking over everything I do. The house. The kids. The chores. Congratulations!”
Emma went rigid. “Wait, what?”
Then came the final touch.
A knock at the door.
I opened it to reveal Emma’s parents.
“Oh, it smells delicious!” her father said cheerfully. “Told Anne you were making roast chicken, Lexie.”
I smiled sweetly. “Thanks for coming, Howard. Anne. And thank you for raising such a helpful daughter! She and Mark have grown so close, I figured it was time to make her part of the family.”
Emma’s mom frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving,” I said simply. “Emma’s going to take care of everything now. Isn’t that wonderful?”
Emma’s father turned to her, eyes dark with fury. “Emma. Tell me this isn’t what I think it is.”
Emma stammered. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Mark, desperate, tried to shift the blame.
“Lexie, this isn’t fair! Emma came onto me!”
I raised an eyebrow. “So, you’re saying you’re not responsible for cheating and insulting your wife?”
Howard’s jaw clenched. “Mark, this is on you. And Emma—this is equally on you. Let’s go. Now.”
Emma shot me a venomous glare before storming out, her parents following, muttering apologies.
Mark turned to me, panic setting in.
“Lexie, please. We’ve been together so long. Let’s talk.”
I smiled. “Oh, we’ll talk. My lawyer will call you tomorrow. In the meantime, pack your bags.”
“Where will I go?” he asked, pitifully.
I shrugged. “Motel. A friend’s couch. The circus. Not my problem.”
Mark left that night.
A week later, I heard Emma had dumped Mark.
“It was fun, but I didn’t sign up to play mom.”
Two weeks later, Mark showed up at my door with flowers.
“I’ve been miserable without you, Lexie. Please, let’s fix this.”
I shut the door in his face.
It’s been months, and I’ve never been happier. I rediscovered myself—joined a salsa class, found joy, embraced freedom.
And Mark? Still single.
Emma’s parents? Not thrilled with her, but Howard still rakes my leaves, and Anne bakes me pies.
Karma’s a beautiful thing, isn’t it?