As Amelia’s 30th birthday approaches, her husband, Jared, keeps hinting at a major surprise for her, causing her imagination to grow wild. On the day of her birthday party, she discovers that her birthday surprise is a man who she never wanted to see again…
I could tell that something was up. My husband, Jared, had been buzzing for weeks about this “life-changing” gift. Every day, another cryptic comment came my way.
“You’ll love it, babe, trust me!” Jared would say, practically bouncing on his feet.
When I asked him about it, he’d just smirk and say, “You’ll see!”
Honestly, by the time my birthday party rolled around, I was convinced that it was something practical. Like maybe an appliance, or the recliner with the massage functions I’d been eyeing. I would have been happy with the ice cream machine that I wanted, but honestly, Jared’s enthusiasm made me feel good that he’d gone to so much trouble.
“You’re worth all the effort, Amelia,” he said. “I just want you to feel special and know that I listen and I care.”
So when he walked in on my birthday, he struggled to roll in a massive gift box much bigger than our washing machine.
“A freezer?” I asked, laughing. “I always said we needed more space for leftovers.”
Jared winked at me and shook his head.
“You’re not even close,” he said.
I should’ve noticed the way some of our friends shifted awkwardly when he said that. Or how my mom suddenly became very interested in rearranging the snack table. But I didn’t. I was too wrapped up in the excitement and anticipation of the moment.
The party was in full swing by then. Friends, coworkers, and even some of Jared’s relatives had shown up. There were people that I hadn’t seen in a while, and everyone I cared about was there, sipping on their drinks and chatting loudly.
After about ten minutes, Jared clinked his glass to get everyone’s attention, and the room quieted.
“Alright, babe,” Jared said, his eyes practically gleaming. “Are you ready for your life-changing gift, Amelia?”
I nodded, my heart racing. Even if it wasn’t anything amazing, it was Jared’s joy that was highly addictive. He told me to close my eyes. And I heard some shuffling and the sound of the box moving slightly.
People giggled.
And then someone said, “Oh my God,” under their breath, and I could hear Jared counting down.
“Three… two… one…”
I opened my eyes, and my breath caught in my throat.
Standing there, grinning from ear to ear, was my father.
My father.
I could barely process it. The room spun for a moment, the laughter around me faded into a dull hum, and all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.
The flashbacks hit me like a freight train.
Suddenly, I could see my father stumbling home drunk while I had friends over. I could see my mom crying at the kitchen table, bills spread out in front of her. I could remember my father helping himself to the little wooden box that I kept in my nightstand where I put all my savings from babysitting.
And I remembered how he blew it all on gambling and alcohol.
And the countless nights where he just never came home. Not to mention the day he packed up and left us, leaving us with nothing but a mountain of debt and broken promises.
And now, here he was. Right in front of me. At my 30th birthday party.
“Hey there, kiddo!” he said loudly.
His voice slurred a bit, exactly how I remembered it from my childhood. He wobbled slightly as he stepped forward, arms out like he was expecting a hug.
I froze.
My chest tightened, my stomach twisted into knots. This man reeked of whiskey and cigarettes, his face flushed red with a buzz. A few people clapped, most likely thinking that this was a sweet reunion.
But they had no idea.
“Surprised, babe?” Jared asked, oblivious to the storm brewing inside me.
He wrapped his arms around me, beaming.
“I tracked Patrick down. I knew that you hadn’t seen him in years, but I figured that it would be great to bring him back into your life for your birthday.”
My father’s grin widened.
“Yeah, it’s been too long, hasn’t it, Amelia?”
His eyes scanned our home, not settling on me for more than a second.
“This is a nice party,” he said. “And this is a nice house. I bet it cost a pretty penny, huh? How many bedrooms do you have? Because I’m staying at a motel for the weekend. Didn’t know how long I was going to be here…”
I felt my throat close up. This wasn’t happening. There was no way that he was here. This was supposed to be my birthday. It was supposed to be my day.
And instead? It felt like I had been thrown back into my worst memories, trapped in a nightmare with no escape.
“Amelia? Sweetheart?” Jared’s voice was soft now, noticing my stillness and the absence of the joy that he thought I’d have by now. “You okay?”
I wasn’t okay. I couldn’t breathe.
Then, like some sick punchline, my dad patted Jared on the back, leaning in too close.
“Hey, kiddo, Jared, do you guys think that you could lend me a little something? Just for old-time’s sake? You know, for my troubles getting here. It was expensive.”
My husband blinked, confused. I wasn’t. This was exactly who he was. This was exactly who he had always been. This man was always looking for a handout. He was always ready to take more from the people he claimed to care about.
The room felt too small. The walls were closing in. And I needed to get out.
“I can’t do this,” I whispered to Jared.
Without waiting for a response, I turned and bolted out of the living room, ignoring the shocked looks from everyone. My heels clicked loudly on the pavement as I ran.
I ran upstairs to our bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My chest heaved as I collapsed onto the bed.
“How could he actually come back and show his face?” I asked the empty room.
I thought about my mother and my heart broke all over again. I hadn’t even checked on her before running out.
Minutes passed, maybe even hours. I completely lost track. All I could think about was the teenage girl I had been when my father broke my heart on the daily.
Finally, the door creaked open, and Jared slipped in quietly, his face pale. He stood in the doorway for a moment as if unsure whether he should approach me or not.
“I had no idea, sweetheart, your mom filled me in now,” he said. “When we were talking about your father a few months ago, I just thought that maybe there was a yearning of sorts. And you wanted him back in. I thought you wanted this.”
I shook my head, wiping away more tears than I knew had fallen.
“No, I didn’t want this, Jared,” I said. “I just mentioned him because we were eating that pumpkin pie and that’s the one good memory I have of him. The two of us sitting on the couch and eating pumpkin pie. I’ve never wanted this man back in my life.”
Jared was quiet.
“He gambled away everything we had, Jared. He broke us. And left us with nothing.”
My husband reached for my hand, squeezing it gently.
“I’m so sorry, Amelia. If I knew about this, I would never have reached out.”
“I know,” I said. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me, and I know how excited you’ve been about this whole thing. I just didn’t imagine that my father would pop out of a box.”
We sat in silence for a while, and I could hear the party winding down slowly. My father was probably long gone by now, slinking away like the ghost he’d become.
“Right, come on down and eat something,” my mother’s voice said as her head peeped through the door.
“I’m so sorry, Julia,” Jared told her. “I didn’t know about Patrick.”
“Oh, honey,” my mother said. “It’s more than okay. Before he left, I gave him a good piece of my mind. If anything, I’m sorry Amelia had to see him. But I am grateful that you gave me the opportunity to tell this man exactly how I feel about him.”
I smiled.
“I’m glad, Mom,” I said, getting off the bed. I was starving.
“There’s pizza and hamburgers and a lot of salad. There’s also about thirty-seven uneaten cupcakes,” my mother said.
“Coming,” I said.
It wasn’t the birthday I expected. It wasn’t the celebration I’d hoped for. But in the end, my mother had gotten her peace, and I was grateful.
What would you have done?
MY HUSBAND LEFT ME AND OUR KIDS FOR HIS MISTRESS – I WAS FURIOUS AND TOOK MY REVENGE.
The bitterness tasted like ash in my mouth. How could he? How could he just walk away, leaving us like discarded toys? Mark, my husband of fifteen years, the man I’d built a life with, had traded us in for a shiny, new model. A twenty-year-old, no less. A coworker. I’d suspected something was off, the late nights, the secretive phone calls, but I’d pushed it aside, trusting him. Foolish me.
The day I caught them, at that cheap motel on the outskirts of town, was seared into my memory. The look on his face, a mixture of guilt and something disturbingly close to relief, still haunted my dreams. He didn’t even try to deny it, just mumbled some pathetic excuse about “finding himself.”
The divorce was a whirlwind of lawyers and paperwork, a cold, clinical process that stripped away the remnants of our life together. He’d agreed to everything, too quickly, too easily. I was left with a pittance, barely enough to cover a few months’ rent.
Then came the real insult. He’d put our marital home, the house where we’d raised our kids, the house filled with memories, up for sale. And he’d listed it for an absurdly inflated price, far exceeding the online valuation used during the financial order. The judge had signed off on it, seemingly oblivious to the glaring discrepancy.
I was left scrambling, barely able to make ends meet, while he was raking in a fortune. Seeing that listing online, the photos of our home, now staged and impersonal, was like a knife to the heart. It was a constant reminder of everything I’d lost.
But the final straw was when his new fiancée, the mistress, announced on social media that they were buying a “dream home” because they were expecting a baby. A baby! He was building a new life, a new family, while my kids were struggling, while I was drowning in debt. The injustice of it all was suffocating.
I was consumed by rage, a burning desire for revenge. I wanted him to feel the same pain, the same despair, that he’d inflicted on me. I wanted him to understand the consequences of his actions.
It wasn’t until I visited my former mother-in-law, a woman who had always been kind to me, that a plan began to form. She was as devastated by Mark’s actions as I was. We sat in her cozy kitchen, sipping tea, and she told me stories of Mark’s childhood, of his father’s own infidelity, a pattern repeating itself.
Then, she mentioned a small, overlooked detail. A safety deposit box, inherited from Mark’s father, containing… well, she wasn’t entirely sure. She’d always assumed it was just old documents.
The next day, I went to the bank. I’d remembered Mark mentioning the box once, years ago, but he’d dismissed it as unimportant. I presented myself as his legal representative, using a power of attorney document I’d obtained during the divorce proceedings, a document Mark had signed without reading thoroughly.
Inside the box, nestled amongst faded photographs and yellowed letters, was a stock certificate. A substantial amount of shares in a company that had recently skyrocketed in value. Mark, in his haste to leave, had completely forgotten about it.
I sold the shares.
The money, a significant sum, allowed me to pay off my debts, secure a comfortable apartment for myself and the kids, and even put a down payment on a small business.
I didn’t tell Mark. I didn’t gloat. I simply moved on, building a new life for myself and my children. The satisfaction wasn’t in the money, but in the knowledge that I had taken back control, that I had turned his betrayal into my liberation. And maybe, just maybe, he’d learn that some things, like family, are worth more than any fleeting infatuation.
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