He wasn’t as quick to respond as he used to, and that bothered me.
“Where are you going all dressed up?” I asked, leaning against the doorway.
“Meeting,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Important, strategy, synergy.”
He threw those words out as if they meant something.
“Synergy with lace?” I muttered.
But he was already gone.
Ten minutes later…
“DAMN!” a shout came from outside.
I watched from the kitchen.
I had a bottle of laxatives in my hand.
It wasn’t an impulsive decision.
Months of silence, calls that stopped when I entered the room, “urgent meetings” on Fridays.
And the message I saw the day before: “See you tomorrow, don’t forget my favorite perfume.” “Carolina.” The new secretary.
I took a deep breath.
“Where’s my coffee?” he shouted from the doorway.
I handed him the cup.
“A little surprise,” I said, smiling.
He drank it all without hesitation.
That deception again.
“Where are you going all dressed up?” I asked.
“A meeting,” he replied, grabbing his keys.
The door slammed quietly.
Ten minutes passed, and…
“DAMN!” another shout.
I went out onto the veranda, an innocent expression on my face.
He stood next to the car, clutching his stomach.
“What did you give me?” he screamed. “I won’t make it to the bathroom!”
“Are you nervous?” I asked with feigned concern.
He turned pale.
“What?”
“They say when you’re nervous before a date, your body reacts.”
He rushed upstairs.
“Don’t even think about using the upstairs toilet,” I added.
He froze mid-step.
“Why?”
“I’m cleaning it.”
It was unforgettable.
He, completely embarrassed, with his “important” meeting ruined, was running around the house.
And I called my friends. The evening promised to be good.
Returning home two hours later, I smelled of beer and freedom.
He was sitting on the couch, pale and depressed.
“Did you have a good time?” he asked.
“Very,” I replied.
“Carolina texted me.”
I remained silent.
“I canceled the meeting.”
“Oh, really?” I asked, surprised.
He ran his hand over his face.
“Because I realized something today.”
I waited.
“If it takes a laxative to remind me I’m married, then I’ve already gone too far.”
Silence.
I exhaled slowly.
“Next time,” I said, “I’ll just put my bags by the door.”
This time, he was at a loss for words.
And I realized that revenge isn’t always loud and destructive.
Sometimes it’s just a reminder.
That respect is something that’s either taught gently, or life teaches you… in its own way.
