The relentless snowstorm made me seek shelter in a stranger’s home. At first, Justin seemed kind. Too kind. But when I discovered his connection to my biggest secret, everything changed.
That morning, I woke up with a pounding headache. The alarm blared, making the sensation worse. I groaned, fumbling to turn it off, and stared at the ceiling. Something felt off like the day was already conspiring against me.
At work, my boss, Lori, was standing at the head of the table, her sharp eyes scanning the room like a hawk circling prey. Meetings with Lori were less about collaboration and more about survival.
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“Good morning, team! Before we dive into the numbers,” Lori began, her gaze settling on me, “I have a special assignment.”
My stomach tightened.
“Sophia,” she continued, “you’ll be heading to Montana. There’s a small mountain town where our competitors are testing campaigns. I want you there by tomorrow.”
“Montana?!”
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“Yes, Montana. You’ll gather intel on their strategies. We need to stay ahead.”
“But it’s Thanksgiving! I had plans.”
Lori cut me off. “Plans can wait. This is business. You’re the best we’ve got for this kind of work.”
I glanced around the room. The silence was deafening.
“I’ll get it done,” I muttered, my hands clenched under the table.
“Excellent! Now, let’s discuss next quarter’s goals.”
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It felt ridiculous, yet there was no arguing with Lori. She wielded her authority like a weapon, and one wrong move could mean the end of my career.
After the meeting, I opened my laptop. My inbox was already filled with follow-ups from Lori: flight details, a contact list, and a reminder that the trip was “critical” for the company’s success.
I sighed, staring at the cursor blinking in the search bar.
“Montana, here I come,” I muttered, booking the flight.
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***
I packed my suitcase in record time, and in a few hours, I was seated on the plane, staring out the window at the clouds gathering in the distance.
“Looks like we’re in for some holiday weather,” a voice said beside me.
I turned to see a man settling into the seat next to mine. He had a warm, easy smile and a kind face.
“I’m Justin,” he said, extending a hand.
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“Sophia,” I replied, shaking it.
The usual polite small talk followed: where we were headed, what we did for a living. Then, after the second glass of sparkling wine, without thinking much, I let it slip.
“Actually, I’m supposed to gather ideas from competitors for my job. I guess you could call it espionage.”
Justin chuckled. “Espionage, huh? Sounds like you’ve got a pretty important job if it’s pulling you away from Thanksgiving.”
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“Well, somebody has to do it,” I said lightly, though the bitterness crept into my voice.
The flight passed fast thanks to Justin’s friendly conversation. But the moment we landed, the storm was full-blown chaos. Snow piled up against the terminal windows.
“All flights are canceled until further notice,” the intercom blared.
I sighed, pulling my coat tighter around me. The thought of spending the night in the freezing terminal made my headache return.
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“Rough day?” Justin appeared again, dragging his suitcase.
“You could say that.” I showed him the fully booked hotel listings on my phone.
“Well. I live nearby. It’s not fancy, but you’re welcome to stay.”
I blinked at him. “Are you sure?”
“It’s better than freezing here. Come on.”
Grateful and too tired to argue, I followed him out into the snowy night.
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***
When we arrived at Justin’s house, the snow was falling in thick, quiet flakes. The world outside was still, as though the storm had tucked everything in for the night.
“Everyone’s asleep,” Justin said, taking off his boots by the door. “I’ll show you to the guest room.”
I followed him up a narrow staircase. The house had a lived-in charm — family photos lined the walls, and the faint scent of pine lingered in the air. Justin opened a door and flicked on the light.
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“Here you go,” he said. “Make yourself comfortable. There are extra blankets in the closet if you need them. I’ll leave some tea and dinner for you downstairs.”
“Thanks.”
As he left, I glanced around the room. Suddenly, I noticed a photo on the wall. It was Justin, smiling broadly, with a group of employees in front of a sign. The logo on the sign was unmistakable. My stomach dropped.
Justin is the competitor!
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Before I could process the shock, my phone started buzzing on the nightstand. I groaned, knowing exactly who it was. Sure enough, Lori’s name flashed across the screen. Reluctantly, I answered.
“Well, well,” Lori’s voice crackled through the line, filled with satisfaction. “Looks like you’re exactly where you need to be.”
“Lori,” I began, keeping my voice low, “this isn’t…”
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“Listen, Sophia,” she cut me off. “I don’t care about your excuses. You’re there to get the job done. Dig through his files, find out what projects they’re working on, and send me everything. Don’t forget, I can make it look like this was all your idea. Clients won’t trust someone who spies on their own. Understood?”
Her words were ice in my veins. I hesitated, torn between guilt and the crushing pressure of her threats.
“Fine,” I muttered finally.
The call ended, leaving me feeling like I’d just made a deal with the devil.
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***
Hours later, when Justin’s house had gone completely quiet, I crept downstairs. His office door was slightly ajar, the glow of his laptop casting faint shadows.
My hands shook as I searched through his files, stopping when I spotted a flash drive inserted into the laptop.
That’s it! All in there!
Just as I reached for it, I heard a small voice.
“Hi,” a little girl said, rubbing her eyes. “I’m Liv.”
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“Hi, Liv,” I whispered, glancing nervously toward the hallway. “Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Are you playing hide-and-seek?”
Before I could respond, Justin’s voice called softly, “Liv? What are you doing up?”
I panicked, ducking under the desk and motioning for Liv to keep quiet. She gave a tiny nod.
Justin appeared in the doorway, scooping her into his arms. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you back to bed.”
As they left, I grabbed the flash drive, tucked it into my pocket, and slipped back to my room.
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***
The following morning, I intended to leave quietly, avoiding an awkward goodbye, but Justin and Liv were already at the kitchen table.
“Morning,” Justin greeted, his warm smile lighting up the room. “You must be starving after all that travel. Come on in.”
I stepped hesitantly into the cozy kitchen, the scent of fresh coffee and pancakes drawing me in. Liv was drawing at the table.
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“Hi! I am Liv,” she said brightly.
Then, to my surprise, she raised a finger to her lips and whispered, “Shh,” mimicking the gesture I’d made to her the night before.
My cheeks flushed. “Hi, Liv! I am Sophia. Could I see your masterpiece?”
Did she remember everything?
“Yup!” She giggled, giving me her picture. “Daddy says we’re making pancakes for you. I helped with the batter.”
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“She’s the head chef this morning,” Justin chimed in, flipping a pancake on the stove.
“Thanks for letting me stay last night. It was kind of you.”
“Not a problem. Storm like that? You’d have frozen at the airport.”
Liv hopped down from her chair and skipped over to the counter. She picked up a plate piled high with golden pancakes and walked it over to me, balancing it carefully with both hands.
“Daddy, can we have whipped cream on them?” Liv asked, tugging at Justin’s sleeve.
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“You have to ask our guest first. Does Sophia like whipped cream?”
Liv turned to me. “Do you?”
“Of course,” I said, laughing. “Who doesn’t?”
Liv clapped her hands. As she sprayed a generous swirl onto her pancake, she glanced at me again, her finger returning to her lips in a playful “shh.”
My heart sank slightly.
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She did remember!
Justin slid into the seat across from me. As we ate, he shared his story.
“After Liv’s mom passed away during childbirth,” he began, “it was just the two of us. Balancing parenthood and running the company hasn’t been easy, but Liv’s my reason for everything.”
Liv looked up from her pancakes, her face glowing with pride. “Daddy works hard, but he always has time for me.”
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This man isn’t just kind. He is incredible! And I betrayed his trust the night before.
Justin leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. “What about you, Sophia? What drives you?”
What can I say? That my job feels like a race I could never win? That I don’t even know what I am chasing anymore?
“I guess I’ve been so focused on my career that I haven’t stopped to think about it,” I admitted, pushing my fork into the last bite of pancake. “Maybe it’s time I do.”
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The warmth of the moment was shattered when my phone buzzed loudly on the table. Lori’s name flashed across the screen. I excused myself and stepped outside. The cold air bit at my cheeks as I read her latest message:
“Where is the file, Sophia? If you don’t send it now, you’re done. Fired. And don’t think you’ll find work elsewhere. I’ll make sure no one hires you again.”
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I stared at the phone. My career, my reputation… It was all on the line. But then I thought about Justin’s story and Liv’s trust in her Dad.
Can I really betray that?
I turned back toward the house, walked over, and held out the flash drive to Justin.
“Here. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
He looked at me, then nodded. I grabbed my coat and bag, said a quick goodbye to Liv, and walked out the door, fighting back tears.
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At the airport, I waited for my flight, staring at my phone as Lori’s messages piled up.
“You’re done. You’ll regret this. You’re fired!”
My future felt uncertain, and fear clawed at me. But before I could spiral further, I heard a familiar voice.
“Sophia.”
I turned to see Justin standing there, holding Liv’s hand. My heart almost stopped.
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“I knew everything from the start,” he said calmly. “Liv told me about ‘hide-and-seek,’ and I recognized your company’s name on your documents on the plane. Lori and I have crossed paths before.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I invited you because I liked you. Even after everything, I could see you weren’t the kind of person to go through with something like this. I wanted to see what you’d choose. And you made the right choice.”
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“Daddy says you can stay for Thanksgiving. Will you?”
Justin smiled softly. “The offer still stands.”
I didn’t have to think long. “I’d like that.”
That Thanksgiving, as snow blanketed the world outside, I felt a warmth of home. Perhaps that was the start of a life filled with meaning, love, and the promise of a future with Justin and Liv.
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My husband hired someone to teach me how to clean and cook – he wasn’t pleased with how I got back at him
I was floored when my husband, Jeff, brought in a maid to “teach” me how to cook and clean like the ideal wife. Rather than push back, I played along. What Jeff didn’t see coming was the lesson I had in store for him — one that would turn his perfect plan topsy-turvy.
I’m Leighton, 32, juggling a full-time job, a chaotic household, and a 34-year-old husband who’s lately become an expert on what a “perfect wife” should be.
Jeff and I both work demanding jobs: he’s in finance, constantly stressed about quarterly reports, while I’m in marketing, which means my brain is fried by the time I get home. You’d think we’d cut each other some slack, but lately, Jeff’s expectations have been through the roof.
It all started after that infamous dinner at his boss Tom’s place. Tom’s wife, Susan, greeted us with this warm smile, wearing a perfectly pressed dress that probably cost more than my rent in college. Her house? Spotless. Not a speck of dust, not a misplaced throw pillow.
And don’t get me started on the five-course meal she whipped up as if she’d been born holding a spatula. Jeff couldn’t stop gawking.
“You see how Susan keeps everything in order? Dinner’s ready the minute Tom gets home,” Jeff had said on the drive back, his voice dripping with admiration. “You could take a few pointers.”
I bit my tongue, staring out the window to avoid rolling my eyes but Tom wasn’t done yet. “Why don’t you try a little harder? I mean, how difficult can it be to keep things clean when you get home before me?”
The comparisons didn’t stop. Every day was a new critique. “Susan keeps her house spotless. Susan has time to make fresh pasta from scratch. Susan always looks put together.”
He’d say this while tossing his dirty clothes two feet from the laundry basket or leaving his dishes right where he finished eating.
One evening, he came home and immediately started inspecting the house like some kind of drill sergeant. He ran his finger along the windowsill and frowned. “You missed a spot. Are you even trying?”
I glanced up from my laptop, barely containing my frustration. “Seriously, Jeff?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, maybe you could put in a little more effort. It’s not like you don’t have time.”
That was his new favorite line. Not like you don’t have time. As if my workday and commute weren’t as draining as his. But the final straw came one Friday night.
I walked in, dreaming of a hot shower and some rest, but instead, I found a young woman in our kitchen. She was holding a mop and wearing an apron, her eyes darting nervously around like she’d accidentally wandered into the wrong house.
Jeff stood beside her, arms crossed, with a self-satisfied grin. “Leighton, meet Marianne. She’s here to teach you how to clean and cook properly.”
I blinked, trying to process what I was hearing. “I’m sorry… teach me?”
Jeff sighed like he was talking to a stubborn child. “Yeah, honey. I’ve tried being patient, but clearly, you’re not getting it. Susan suggested I get someone to help you get up to speed. So, here we are.”
Marianne glanced at me, then at Jeff, and back at me. “I usually just… you know, clean houses,” she said softly, almost apologetic. “He offered me double if I’d show you how.”
I turned to Jeff, barely keeping my voice steady. “So, you’re paying her to teach me to clean and cook?”
He nodded, still oblivious. “Yeah. This way, you can get the hang of it properly. Marianne, don’t hold back.”
I wanted to scream. This man, who never lifted a finger, had the audacity to hire someone to teach me how to clean? I could see Marianne’s discomfort too, like she was dragged into some weird reality TV show.
I forced a smile, seething inside. “I’m sure I’ve got a lot to learn, Jeff. Thanks for looking out for me.”
Jeff left, pleased with himself, while Marianne looked like she was ready to bolt. I leaned in, lowering my voice. “Listen, I don’t need lessons. But I do have a little idea that could use some help. Are you game?”
Marianne’s face lit up, intrigued. “What do you have in mind?”
I smiled, already plotting. “Let’s just say Jeff’s about to learn a lesson of his own.”
Over the next few weeks, I gave Jeff exactly what he’d been asking for: the perfect housewife. Every day, I woke up early, made his breakfast, cleaned the house until it sparkled, and cooked elaborate dinners that looked straight out of a cooking show.
I even dressed up every evening, greeting him at the door with a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes.
But I was cold as ice. I didn’t nag or complain, but I also didn’t engage. No conversations about my day, no affectionate touches, not even a casual laugh. I became the picture of domestic perfection, but I was just going through the motions. It didn’t take long for Jeff to notice something was off.
“Hey, babe,” he said one evening, hovering at the kitchen door while I prepared a three-course meal. “You’ve been quiet lately. Is everything okay?”
I barely looked up, keeping my tone polite but distant. “I’m fine, Jeff. Just busy with the house, like you wanted.”
His brow furrowed. “You don’t have to be… this dedicated. I mean, it’s great, but it’s like you’re here, but you’re not.”
I shrugged, setting the table with precision. “I’m just focusing on what you asked me to do, Jeff.”
He nodded, but I could tell he was confused. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? A perfect house, perfect meals, perfect wife. But I wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of my usual warmth, and it was starting to bother him.
As the days went on, I kept up my act. Every task was done flawlessly, but our relationship? It was as cold and mechanical as a well-rehearsed performance. I knew Jeff could feel the distance between us, but he didn’t know how to fix it. And I wasn’t going to make it easy for him.
Then came the day I’d been planning for weeks. After a perfectly silent dinner, I cleared the plates and turned to him with a cheerful smile. “Jeff, we need to talk.”
He glanced up, a nervous smile twitching on his lips. “What’s up?”
I sat across from him, placing a neatly folded piece of paper on the table. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole ‘perfect housewife’ thing. Marianne really opened my eyes to how much work it takes to run a household like this. It’s a full-time job, honestly.”
Jeff frowned, not sure where I was going. “Uh, okay?”
“So, I’ve decided,” I continued brightly. “I’m going to quit my job and focus on this full-time.”
His jaw dropped. “You’re quitting your job?”
I nodded enthusiastically. “Yep! You wanted the house to be spotless, meals cooked from scratch, and everything just right. To do that, I need to dedicate all my time to it. But here’s the catch — I can’t do it for free.”
He blinked, baffled. “Wait, what do you mean ‘can’t do it for free?’”
I slid the paper toward him. It was a contract I’d typed up, outlining my new terms.
“If I’m giving up my career, I should be compensated. Susan doesn’t work, and Tom supports her. So, I’ll need you to pay me a salary. This is what I think is fair.”
He stared at me, his face turning from confused to outraged. “You want me to pay you? Leighton, this is absurd!”
I kept my tone sweet, but my words were laced with ice. “Oh, but it makes perfect sense. You wanted me to be a perfect wife, and I’ve been delivering. But perfection isn’t free, Jeff. If you expect me to maintain the household to your standards, I deserve compensation. And if you’re not willing to pay, that’s fine. I’ll just stop doing it.”
He gaped at me, the color draining from his face. “I never asked you to quit your job! I never wanted this.”
I leaned back, arms crossed, savoring every second. “Oh, but you did, Jeff. You wanted a house that looked like Susan’s, meals like hers, and a wife who dedicated herself entirely to domestic duties. I’m just doing exactly what you asked for. But I have my standards too, and if you want this level of dedication, it comes at a price.”
There was a long, tense silence. Jeff held the contract, his eyes fixated on the exorbitant salary. I could see the gears turning as he realized he’d dug himself into a hole he couldn’t easily climb out of.
Finally, he sputtered, “This isn’t what I meant! I work hard all day. I don’t have time to do everything around here!”
I stood up, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Exactly. And now you know what it feels like. If you’re not willing to pay me, maybe it’s time you start contributing more around the house. Or you could always hire Marianne full-time. She’s great, after all.”
I left him sitting there, flustered and speechless.
From that day on, Jeff’s attitude changed. He never agreed to pay me, of course, but he also stopped complaining. And suddenly, chores were no longer just my responsibility.
Jeff started picking up after himself, doing the laundry, and even cooking dinner a few nights a week. He never brought up Susan again, and I never saw him running a finger along the shelves in search of dust.
Turns out, when you give someone exactly what they think they want, they realize pretty quickly that the fantasy isn’t nearly as sweet as the reality. Jeff learned that the hard way, and I got the one thing I’d wanted all along: respect.
In the end, Jeff didn’t need a perfect wife; he needed a partner. And if it took hiring a maid and drawing up a fake contract to get there. Well, that was a lesson worth teaching.
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