‘I Am Now Lying in Your Bed, in Your Apartment, with Your Husband’: I Received This Message While on a Business Trip in Another City

What started as a routine business trip turned into the unraveling of my marriage in a single night. A text message from my husband’s phone shattered everything, revealing a betrayal so deep that I had no choice but to plan the perfect revenge. I wasn’t expecting anything special. Just a routine three-day trip to New York. My suitcase was packed, my presentation was ready, and I kissed my husband, Tom, goodbye at the airport like I always did.

“Don’t forget to water the plants,” I joked, giving him a quick hug before heading toward security. Everything seemed normal. But looking back, I wish I had paid more attention. Maybe I would have noticed that something was off. Once I got to my hotel that night, I was exhausted. The first day was full of endless meetings, networking, and boring talks about targets. You know the type. I was just relieved it was over. I kicked off my heels, changed into my pajamas, and let out a long sigh as I sank into the bed.

Just as I was about to close my eyes, my phone buzzed. I smiled, thinking it was Tom with his usual sweet “goodnight” text. But when I opened the message, my heart stopped. “I am now lying in your bed, in your apartment, with your husband. Now I am the main woman here.” I stared at the screen, my pulse racing. My head spun. What? Was this some kind of prank? It was from Tom’s number. Then, before I could even think, another message came through — a picture.

Sarah, my colleague, the one who couldn’t stand me since I got promoted. I felt like I was going to be sick. I stared at the photo, my hands shaking. Sarah was always jealous. I could feel it from day one. When we first started working together, I thought we could be friends. But Sarah didn’t want that. She liked to coast by, barely doing the minimum at work. I’d work late, finishing projects, while she sat there sipping her coffee, chatting about her weekend. She never liked hard work.

When I got promoted last year, she didn’t congratulate me. Didn’t even say a word. Instead, she spent weeks giving me cold glares in meetings and making snide comments under her breath. One time, during a lunch break, she muttered to another girl, “Must be nice to get everything handed to you.”I sat on the edge of the hotel bed, still in my pajamas, staring at my phone. My thoughts raced. Maybe it was a mistake? Maybe someone stole his phone? No. The more I looked at that picture, the more it became clear. This wasn’t a mistake.

My husband was in bed with Sarah. Sarah, who was furious that I got the promotion she’d wanted. Sarah, who thought I didn’t deserve it. My chest tightened. I wanted to scream, to cry, to throw my phone across the room. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead, I just sat there, breathing in and out, trying to calm the storm inside me. I wasn’t going to let them destroy me. I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction. “They think they’ve won,” I whispered to myself, “but they don’t know who they’re messing with.”

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