Our first wedding anniversary was supposed to be perfect. I had envisioned a romantic evening, so I went all out—put on my favorite dress, lit some candles, set the table, and waited for my husband, Thomas, to come home and celebrate. But then came the call. He said he had to leave suddenly for a last-minute business trip. I tried to hide my disappointment, telling myself work comes first sometimes, but my heart sank.

Things took a strange turn shortly after that phone call. There was a knock on the door, and a delivery man handed me a cake box. A surprise cake? I thought Thomas had somehow made up for the abrupt cancellation. But when I opened the box, my stomach dropped. In golden icing, the cake read: “It’s time to get divorced!” Inside the box was a card that read, “Hope you take this as well as he did. XOXO.” My hands shook. I was confused, blindsided, and heartbroken. What was going on?

Right on cue, my phone rang again. This time, it was Gloria—my mother-in-law. Her voice was unusually cheery as she mentioned that I should visit Thomas at the hotel where he was supposedly staying. She kept saying it was “all going to make sense soon” and hinted that there was a surprise waiting for me. Something about the way she spoke made me suspicious, but I needed answers, and fast. I booked the earliest flight and headed straight to the hotel.

When I knocked on the hotel room door, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. A woman answered the door, wrapped in nothing but confidence and a robe. She raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Thomas is in the shower,” she said, stepping aside like she owned the place. But something felt off—his clothes weren’t in the room. The ones lying around didn’t belong to him at all. That’s when the puzzle pieces began to fall into place.

And then, as if it were a plot twist from a soap opera, Gloria walked in—glass of wine in hand, cool as ever. She greeted me like we were catching up over brunch and then casually dropped the bombshell: she had sent the cake. She had orchestrated the entire scenario. And the woman standing in front of me? Her name was Alicia. According to Gloria, Alicia was a “better fit” for her son and their family. In her eyes, I had never quite measured up, and this was her way of “correcting” the situation.

But here’s what Gloria didn’t know—I had already called Thomas when I walked into the room, and I had kept the call going the entire time. He heard everything. Every manipulative word his mother said. Every smug little comment. Every plan she had tried to set in motion behind his back.