I used to think that my husband, Mark, was normally quiet and frugal. He didn’t like to spend a lot of money on me. When I asked for a simple date night or even a small gift, he always replied: “We don’t have a budget. Times are tough.”
I believed him. I held back. Even though I sometimes wanted to feel appreciated by him, I held back because I thought we were saving for the future.
But one day, while I was organizing things in his drawer, I found a receipt. Not just any receipt—it was payment for a luxurious vacation to a beach resort, worth $10,000.
I could barely breathe as I read it. I thought it was for us. But it wasn’t. It listed the names of the guests: Mark, his mother… and his ex-girlfriend Amanda.
It felt like heaven and earth had covered me. That’s why we didn’t have a budget for a simple dinner—because he prioritized giving his mother and the woman he once loved the royal treatment.
But I wasn’t just crying. I wasn’t going to scream or fight either. I decided to plan a quiet but powerful revenge.
—
The day of the vacation arrived. He said he was on a “business trip.” But before he could leave, I packed my bag myself. I had a copy of the booking details, and I booked my own room at the same resort.
When I got there, I watched them from afar—enjoying, laughing, as if I didn’t exist. It hurt to see, but my anger gave me courage.
That evening, they were starting to eat a delicious dinner at the resort’s restaurant. I approached there, wearing my favorite red dress. I sat quietly at the other table, just enough for them to see me.
When Amanda first noticed me, she almost choked. As for Mark, his eyes widened, as if he had seen a ghost.
I smiled and said calmly, “The food looks delicious. It’s a good thing we have a budget for it.”
I didn’t need a long scene. I didn’t make a fuss, I didn’t shout. My simple presence was enough of a blow. I quietly ate my own dinner while they could barely eat from the nervousness.
—
When we got home, he couldn’t take it anymore.
“How could you do that? You embarrassed me in front of my mom and Amanda!” he shouted angrily.
I just smiled, calm and firm. “I didn’t ruin it, Mark. You ruined us when you chose to pay for them over your wife.”
And then I took an envelope out of my bag. It was clean, thick, and had his name on it. I gently placed it on the table.
He opened it and almost fell off his chair. Divorce papers.
“I signed it,” I said. “You just need to put your signature. If you can spend ten thousand on someone else, you can definitely live without me.”
He was stunned. Almost trembling as he held the paper, unable to believe what he was seeing.
Me? Turned around, carrying my small suitcase, and walked out of the house with a high forehead.
I didn’t need to spend ten thousand for revenge. My simple departure and cutting off all connections with him—that was the most expensive, most severe, and most elegant punishment he could receive.