When Gwen finds strands of red hair in her bed, and red lipstick stains on her husband’s work shirts, she immediately thinks that Ryan is cheating. Then, at his birthday dinner, everything gets revealed when Ryan brings a redhead to the party. Not wanting to let it slide, Gwen works on getting her revenge.
“Gwen, why do you look so stressed?” my friend Jessica asked, her voice laced with concern.
A stressed woman with her hand on her face | Source: Unsplash
We were at the grocery store, getting the final things I needed for the recipes I had been poring over. My husband’s birthday was tomorrow and we had a dinner planned at home.
I sighed, thinking of the small Ziploc bag in my handbag.
A woman opening her handbag | Source: Pexels
“I found this while making the bed,” I said to Jess. “Obviously, it’s not mine, and it sure as hell isn’t Ryan’s.”
I pulled out the bag. Inside was a long strand of bright red hair that I’d found in our bed.
Jessica’s eyes widened as she took the bag from me.
A woman with red hair | Source: Pexels
“Are you serious? That’s pretty damning. What did Ryan say about it? Is it not the nanny’s?” she asked.
“No, not Michelle. She has a pixie cut now because she’s going through a breakup. I haven’t confronted Ryan yet. I actually thought that it might be a fluke,” I admitted. “But then I remembered something else.”
A woman with short hair | Source: Unsplash
“What?” she asked, waving the bag around.
“The other day, I found red lipstick on the collar of his shirt. I was so tired that I didn’t even think about it. I just washed it out and carried on with the laundry. But after finding the hair, it’s all I can think about.”
Jessica’s face hardened.
A woman wearing red lipstick | Source: Pexels
“Gwen, you don’t even wear lipstick. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I nodded slowly. There was no point in trying to lie to myself anymore.
“I think he’s cheating on me. Other than the hair and lipstick, Ryan has been staying late at work recently, and it all just adds up to one ugly puzzle,” I said.
The silhouette of a couple | Source: Midjourney
“What are you going to do about it?” she asked, picking up the red onions that I needed.
“Nothing for the moment. I know you’ll disagree, but Ryan’s birthday dinner is tomorrow and I don’t want to ruin it in case I’m wrong.”
A birthday cake | Source: Pexels
I knew that I wasn’t wrong. I knew what I felt in my gut, and that was because everything just felt wrong when I thought about my marriage.
Recently, Ryan and I hadn’t been as intimate as before. We didn’t do as many date nights or anything spontaneous. I figured that it was just life being life, and that we had gotten busy with our jobs.
We argued over everything.
A couple arguing | Source: Pexels
“We’re just in a rut,” I told myself when I was sweeping the house and thinking about it one day.
“Look,” Jess said. “I understand that you need to reevaluate it and look at everything, but you also need to know that you can’t let it go on indefinitely. You have two kids to worry about. So, think about them, too.”
A woman sweeping the floor | Source: Pexels
The next day, as I finished up the final touches on the platters of food, my nerves were on edge. The guests started arriving for the party, and Ryan got more excited every time the doorbell rang.
“This is going to be so great, honey!” he said, walking around the house, making sure that everyone had a drink.
People holding glasses of wine | Source: Unsplash
“Just call me if you need me,” I said. “I’m just going to get the canapés out.”
My husband smiled at me and nodded as he walked out.
I plastered a smile on my face, greeting everyone and giving them bites to eat.
A platter of canapés | Source: Midjourney
Then, Ryan walked in with her.
“Honey, this is Stacy,” Ryan said, gesturing to the red-haired woman beside him. His hand was around her waist, and she batted her eyelashes at him.
Stacy smiled brightly.
A woman with red hair and red lipstick | Source: Unsplash
“Hi, Gwen!” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
I forced a smile. Inside, I was seething. The resemblance to the hair and lipstick was unmistakable.
“Nice to meet you, Stacy,” I said, trying to keep my face expressionless. “Make yourself at home.”
An expressionless woman | Source: Pexels
Throughout the party, I kept up the charade, mingling with guests and keeping a close eye on Stacy and my husband.
Jessica caught my eye across the room and raised an eyebrow in question.
I nodded slightly, confirming her suspicions.
People mingling | Source: Pexels
Later, when Ryan was outside with the smokers, I approached Stacy.
“So, how do you like working with Ryan?” I asked.
Stacy beamed, her eyes lighting up.
“Oh, it’s great! He’s been such a help. And being the assistant to our boss, I get to spend a lot of time with him. I’m new to the whole thing; Jeff hired me on the fact that I needed to spend time away from the kids.”
A woman sitting at a desk | Source: Unsplash
I nearly choked on my drink.
“Wait, you’re Mr. Anderson’s assistant? And his wife?”
“Yes! It’s a small world, isn’t it?”
I smiled tightly.
A married couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
“Very small,” I said. “Please, come on and take a seat; dinner will be served now.”
I served dinner methodically, with Jessica hot on my heels. I knew that she wanted to know everything.
“Not now,” I said, giving her a platter of chicken wings. “Later, I promise.”
A platter of chicken wings | Source: Midjourney
The rest of the evening went off smoothly, except for the fact that Ryan and Stacy were openly flirting in front of us all.
The next morning, I went out to the hardware store and bought hidden cameras that I installed in our bedroom.
A hardware store | Source: Unsplash
During dinner, I lied to him.
“Ryan, I’m going to support Jess. Charles just left her, and she needs me there,” I lied. “I’ll be gone for a day or two. I’ll take the kids, too.”
Two young boys with skateboards | Source: Pexels
Ryan nodded absentmindedly, not even thinking about the fact that Jess and Charles were with us the previous night and were fine.
“Sure, take your time, honey,” he said, drinking his coffee.
A man holding a mug | Source: Unsplash
I took the kids to Jess’s, where we were going to spend the weekend.
“Two days without you and the kids,” Jess said, making me some tea. “Ryan will definitely do something wrong.”
“I know,” I agreed. “He wouldn’t be able to resist anything.”
A woman holding a teabag | Source: Pexels
When I returned, the first thing I did was review the footage. And my worst fears were confirmed, right there, on tape.
I contacted a lawyer and set up a meeting with Stacy’s husband.
A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels
“Mr. Anderson,” I said on the phone. “It’s Gwen, Ryan’s wife. I need to meet you urgently. In private.”
“What’s going on?” he asked, his confusion clear.
“I’d rather we discuss it in person,” I replied.
A woman using a laptop and holding a phone | Source: Pexels
“I’ll meet you in an hour,” he said.
I took my laptop to the coffee shop that we had agreed to meet at.
He was already seated, two coffees on the table and waiting.
A cup of coffee on a table | Source: Pexels
“Are you okay? Is Ryan okay? He’s one of my best employees,” he said.
“Let me show you something,” I said.
I played the footage of Ryan and Stacy together.
“I can’t believe this,” he said, his voice strained. “Thank you for telling me.”
A shocked man covering his mouth | Source: Pexels
When I got home, I made dinner for my sons and waited for Ryan to come home. The moment he walked in, I confronted him with the divorce papers.
“Gwen, what’s this?” he asked, bewildered.
“I know about you and Stacy,” I said coldly. “I have proof.”
Ryan fell to his knees in the kitchen.
Divorce paperwork | Source: Pexels
“Please, Gwen, don’t tell Mr. Anderson. Don’t leave me. I’m sorry.”
“You brought another woman into our bed. I deserve better. So much better.”
In the end, Ryan lost everything in the divorce. He was fired from his job and found it difficult to find another job.
A man holding his head | Source: Pexels
“Please, take me back,” he said on the phone one evening when I was dishing out ice cream for the boys.
“I don’t want to,” I said. “I’m just done having anything to do with you.”
“I deserve a second chance,” he said. “The boys need their father.”
I left the phone on the kitchen counter and let Ryan vent away.
I didn’t care anymore.
Bowls of ice cream on a counter | Source: Midjourney
I Agreed to a Group Dinner with Two Freeloaders — but They Didn’t Expect What I Did Next
Cecelia had reached her breaking point with two freeloading members of her tight-knit group. Initially refusing a dinner invite, a brilliant plan struck her mind. She agreed to join while her friends were unaware of the lesson she was about to teach them. What happened next left everyone speechless.
Hey, everyone! I’m Cecelia, and I’ve got a story for you that’s been a long time coming.
I’ve always been an overachiever. In school, I was that girl who wouldn’t settle for anything less than an A.
A girl sitting in her classroom | Source: Pexels
Now, at 27, I’m killing it as an accounts manager at a big firm in the city. My job pays well, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
But this story isn’t about my career; it’s about my friends.
We’re a group of eight who’ve been tight since college. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I love them all… well, almost all of them. There are two people in our group who I just can’t seem to respect anymore: Samantha and Arnold.
Why? I’ll explain that later.
A group of friends singing songs | Source: Pexels
First, let me tell you about how I’ve always been there for my friends. Take Betty, for example. A few months ago, she called me in tears.
“Cecelia, I hate to ask, but I’m in a bind,” Betty sobbed over the phone. “My car broke down, and I need $200 for repairs. I won’t get paid until next week, and I can’t miss work. Could you…”
I cut her off before she could finish. “Of course, Betty. I’ll transfer the money right now. Pay me back when you can, okay?”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
Betty was so grateful and true to her word. She paid me back as soon as she got her paycheck.
It’s moments like these that make our friendship so strong.
A few weeks later, Harry needed help moving. He called me on a Saturday morning, and he sounded stressed.
“Hey, Cecelia. My moving truck is here, but my friends who were supposed to help bailed on me. Any chance you’re free today?”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
I laughed. “Harry, you know I can’t lift anything heavier than my laptop. But I’ll be there in 20 minutes with coffee and donuts for everyone. And I’ll help organize and unpack. Okay?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Cece. Thanks!”
That’s just how our group works. We’re there for each other, no questions asked.
But then there’s Samantha and Arnold. I’ve never been in a situation where they needed my help, but our experiences at group dinners have been… well, horrible is putting it mildly.
Women having lunch together | Source: Unsplash
No one in the group talks about it openly, but we’ve all noticed what these two are up to.
Picture this: we’re out for lunch, and everyone’s scanning the menu, looking for something tasty but reasonably priced. Then there’s Samantha and Arnold, zeroing in on the most expensive items.
After ordering, they’ll turn to whoever’s closest and start their sob story.
“Oh, work’s been so slow lately,” Samantha will sigh. “I don’t know how I’m going to make rent this month.”
A woman talking to her friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Arnold’s favorite line is, “Man, my student loans are killing me. I barely have enough for groceries.”
And then, when the bill comes, they’ll conveniently forget their wallets or claim they can only chip in a few bucks. The rest of us end up covering their extravagant meals.
They’ve pulled this stunt with everyone in the group, and I’ve had enough. I decided I wasn’t going to go out for dinner or lunch with Samantha and Arnold ever again.
I refuse to be used like this.
A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
So, last weekend, Jason called to invite me to a casual dinner with the group.
“Hey Cecelia, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner at that new place downtown on Friday. You in?” he asked cheerfully.
I bit my lip. “Who’s coming?”
“It’s just me, you, Betty, Harry, Samantha, and Arnold. Liz and Ben aren’t in town.”
I groaned inside. “Jason, I don’t think I can make it if Samantha and Arnold are going to be there.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Come on, Cece. Don’t be like that. It’s just dinner.”
“It’s never just dinner with those two,” I retorted. “I’m tired of paying for their five-star meals while I eat a side salad.”
“Just get over yourself and come for once,” he snapped. “Stop being such a baby about it. We’re all tired of your complaints.”
I was about to decline again when an idea struck me. A slightly wicked, definitely petty, but oh-so-satisfying idea.
A woman talking to a friend on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“You know what? I’ll be there,” I said, trying to keep the mischief out of my voice.
“Really?” Jason sounded surprised but pleased. “Great! I’ll see you Friday at 7.”
As I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be interesting.
Friday night rolled around, and I arrived at the restaurant right on time. Everyone was already there, chatting and laughing.
I slid into the booth next to Betty, across from Samantha and Arnold.
Friends talking in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Cecelia!” Samantha cooed. “So glad you could make it. Isn’t this place fabulous?”
I forced a smile. “It’s lovely.”
The waiter came to take our orders. Most of the group ordered reasonably priced meals, around $25 each. Then it was Samantha and Arnold’s turn.
“I’ll have the Wagyu steak, medium-rare,” Samantha purred. “And a glass of the 2015 Cabernet, please.”
Arnold nodded approvingly. “Make that two, and add the lobster tail to mine.”
I could see Jason’s eyes widen slightly. Their orders were easily $150 each.
A man sitting in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
When it was my turn, everyone was looking at me. Here’s the catch: I just pointed to a $3 iced tea on the menu and sent the waiter away.
Jason looked at me, confused. “Aren’t you hungry, Cecelia?”
I shrugged. “Lost my appetite, I guess.”
Betty and Harry exchanged glances, then quickly changed their orders to just drinks as well.
We chatted about work and life while waiting for the food. Soon, the waiter arrived with the meals.
A serving of steak with vegetables | Source: Pexels
Samantha and Arnold’s plates looked like something out of a food magazine. Perfectly seared steaks, glistening lobster tails, and colorful vegetable garnishes.
“Oh my,” Samantha said, eyeing her plate. “This steak looks a bit overdone. And is this asparagus? I’m not a fan.”
Arnold nodded in agreement. “The lobster seems a bit small. I hope it’s worth the price.”
I caught Betty rolling her eyes and had to stifle a laugh.
Meanwhile, Jason said, “Well, my burger is great! How’s your drink, Cecelia?”
A man sitting beside his friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I grinned. “Delicious. Best $3 I’ve ever spent.”
As the meal wound down, the waiter brought over the check. Arnold grabbed it and announced, “Okay, let’s split this six ways, shall we?”
That was my cue. I stood up and smiled sweetly at the waiter.
“Actually, we’ll be splitting this three ways. Jason, Samantha, and Arnold had meals. The rest of us just had drinks, which we’ve already paid for at the bar.”
Everyone was stunned.
Silence.
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Then, I saw Arnold squint his eyes in confusion and widen them as he understood what would happen next. His face flushed red in anger.
“But… but we always split the bill,” he sputtered.
I shook my head. “Not tonight. It wouldn’t be fair for us to pay for meals we didn’t eat, would it?”
Samantha tried to argue. “Cecelia, don’t be ridiculous. We’re all friends here.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “And friends don’t take advantage of each other.”
A woman talking to her friend | Source: Midjourney
In the end, they couldn’t argue with my logic.
Jason, who had only ordered a $35 meal, ended up with a $115 bill. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw that receipt.
I slid a $5 bill toward the center of the table for the tip, said my goodbyes, and walked out feeling lighter than I had in months.
The next morning, my phone was buzzing with messages. Samantha and Arnold were livid, calling me mean and blaming me for their high bill.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but laugh. Their steaks alone cost more than what they ended up paying!
Meanwhile, Jason’s messages were a mix of frustration and begrudging respect.
“You could have just not come instead of pulling that stunt,” he wrote. “But I get why you did it. Maybe it’s time we had a group talk about dinner etiquette.”
I felt a twinge of guilt about Jason’s bill, but I knew this had been a long time coming.
A restaurant bill | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means rocking the boat a little.
As for Samantha and Arnold? I’m hoping they learned their lesson, but only time will tell.
One thing’s for sure, I won’t be joining any group dinners with them anytime soon. Unless, of course, separate checks are agreed upon in advance!
Do you think I did the right thing?
A woman standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Excitement for their weekend getaway turned into frustration as Sarah’s friends dodged paying their share of the $2,000 cabin rental. Little did they know, she had a plan to make sure they didn’t get away with it.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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