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
3 Disturbing Tales of Elderly Abuse: The Shocking Truth About Ageism
In a world where older people are often ignored, some face unfair treatment just because of their age. These stories show times when older individuals were bullied or not taken seriously but chose to defend their dignity. They demonstrated that respect should not depend on how many years someone has lived.
As people age, they usually hope to be treated with kindness and respect. Unfortunately, that does not always happen.
The following stories share the sad moments when elderly people were judged for their age or how they looked. They also show how these individuals stood up for themselves and demanded the respect they truly deserved.
1. I Was Kicked out of the Restaurant Because of My Age and Outfit – Days Later, I Returned for Payback
I’m Everly, and at 82, life still makes me happy. One Thursday, my daughter, Nancy, surprised me by visiting my shop.
“Let’s try that new restaurant downtown,” she suggested, her face lighting up.
Excited, I quickly agreed and put on my usual floral blouse and khakis. I kept it simple and comfortable, just like Nancy, who wore her favorite jeans and a T-shirt.
We didn’t care much about our outfits; we just wanted to enjoy our day together.
When we entered the restaurant, everything felt very trendy. We noticed we looked different from the younger, fashionable guests, but we didn’t mind.
As we were seated, I saw the host give us a quick, judging glance. That was the first sign something was wrong.
A young waiter came over, and his smile vanished when he looked at us.
“I’m sorry, but this place may not be right for you,” he said coldly.
I blinked, confused and unsure of how to respond.
“You seem too old for our usual guests, and your outfits don’t fit the vibe we want here,” he added, as if that made it okay.
Are you serious? I thought. I could see Nancy’s face turning red with anger.
Before we could say anything, the waiter called two security guards over.
“You need to leave,” he said. “We don’t want to disturb our customers.”
At that moment, I felt so small as I realized I was being judged for my age and clothes. I had never experienced such blatant disrespect before.
Nancy and I quietly stood up and left, but the story didn’t end there.
“This is unacceptable!” Nancy muttered, taking photos of the security guards outside.
Later, she posted our story on Facebook with the pictures. In hours, the post went viral.
I had no idea that our story would inspire others to share their experiences with discrimination. That night, the restaurant’s reputation suffered.
The next day, Mr. Thompson, the owner, called me.
“Mrs. Everly, I’m very sorry,” he started. “I had no idea this happened while I was away. The waiter who disrespected you is… my son. I apologize deeply for his behavior.”
He explained that his son had been in charge while he was gone, and he was horrified by what occurred.
“Please let us make it right,” he said. “I’d like to invite you back for a meal, and my son will personally apologize.”
At first, I hesitated, but Mr. Thompson’s sincere apology made me agree.
A week later, I returned to the restaurant wearing my best silk dress.
Mr. Thompson warmly greeted me at the door.
“Thank you for giving us another chance,” he said.
His son approached shortly after. “Mrs. Everly, I’m truly sorry for what I said. It was wrong, and I’ve learned from this.”
His apology felt genuine, and I could tell he had been humbled.
Mr. Thompson added, “I’ve told my son that our business will succeed only if we treat every customer with respect. This was a tough lesson, but an important one.”
I appreciated their efforts and enjoyed a lovely meal, but it was more than just the food. It was about reclaiming my dignity.
That night, I posted a message online about the apology and praised Mr. Thompson’s actions.
This experience taught me that everyone, no matter their age, deserves respect. Sometimes, you need to stand up and make that clear.
—
2. I Was Mocked by Business Class Passengers, but the Pilot Surprised Me at the End of the Flight
This was my first flight at 85 years old, and everything felt overwhelming as I boarded the plane.
I had saved enough money to buy a business class ticket, hoping for a comfortable trip to New York. But things quickly turned unpleasant when I reached my seat.
“I don’t want to sit next to that… woman!” a man beside me complained, looking at me with disgust.
His name was Franklin, and he was clearly unhappy to see me.
The flight attendant tried to calm him down.
“Sir, this is her seat. She paid for it just like everyone else,” she said gently, but Franklin wasn’t convinced.
“That can’t be true. These seats are too expensive for her! Just look at her clothes!” he exclaimed, pointing at me.
I was wearing my best dress, which wasn’t fancy, and I felt embarrassed as other passengers stared at me. All I wanted was to disappear.
“Miss, it’s okay. If you have another seat in economy, I’ll take it,” I told the kind flight attendant quietly. “I spent all my savings on this seat, but I don’t want to bother anyone.”
“No, ma’am,” she shook her head. “You paid for this seat, and you belong here. No one has the right to make you feel otherwise.”
She turned to Franklin. “Sir, if you don’t calm down, I will have security remove you from this plane.”
I could hear him grumbling under his breath as he reluctantly settled into his seat.
Thank God, I thought. Thank God it’s over.
I tried to relax after takeoff, but I was still shaken by the confrontation. My hands trembled, and I accidentally knocked my purse to the floor, spilling everything out.
To my surprise, Franklin leaned over and started picking things up. His earlier anger seemed to fade.
“This is a beautiful locket,” he said, picking up my ruby necklace.
“It belonged to my mother,” I replied, gently taking it back. “My father gave it to her before he went to World War II. He promised to come back, but he never did.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, looking sympathetic.
“It was all we had of him after he disappeared,” I continued. “My mother cherished it and passed it to me. I’ve held onto it through hard times.”
Franklin nodded.
“I owe you an apology for earlier,” he said. “I’ve been having a tough time, but that’s no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.”
I accepted his apology, and the tension between us eased. I shared why I was flying.
“I’m on my way to New York to see my son,” I said.
“Are you visiting him?” Franklin asked.
“No, not directly,” I began. “I gave him up for adoption many years ago because I couldn’t care for him.”
“I found him through a DNA test later, but he didn’t want to reconnect,” I explained. “Today is his birthday, and this flight is my only chance to be near him. He’s the pilot.”
Franklin’s eyes widened in surprise, and he leaned back, processing what I had said.
“I don’t think he knows I’m here,” I whispered.
This was the closest I had been to my son in decades, yet he was completely unaware.
The next few hours passed quietly. As we neared our destination, the pilot’s voice came over the intercom.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll be landing at JFK shortly,” he announced. But then, to my surprise, he continued, “Before we land, I want to make a special announcement. My birth mother is on this flight today. It’s her first time flying, and I’d like to welcome her aboard. Hey, Mom, please wait for me after we land.”
At that moment, I realized he knew I was there. Tears filled my eyes as I covered my mouth.
When the plane landed, the moment I had dreamed of finally arrived. My son, Josh, stepped out of the cockpit and walked straight toward me.
The entire cabin erupted in applause as he embraced me.
“Thank you, Mom,” he whispered. “Thank you for everything.”
And just like that, all the years of distance and heartache melted away.
—
3. I Was Kicked Out of a Luxury Store, but a Kind Cop Brought Me Back Later
“Grandma, I don’t care about prom!” my granddaughter, Anne, said over the phone, trying to sound casual.
I knew her well enough.
She was embarrassed because we couldn’t afford to buy a dress. My daughter, Lisa, and I struggled with our limited incomes, and Anne didn’t want to ask for help.
But I wasn’t going to let her miss out on such an important moment.
“Are you sure? Prom can change your life! Your grandfather asked me to his out of the blue, and we got married months later,” I told her, hoping she’d change her mind.
“Grandma, it’s fine. I don’t even have a date,” she replied before hanging up.
After that call, I decided I wouldn’t let her stay home. I had been saving a little bit of my pension for my funeral costs, but this was more important.
Anne deserved a beautiful dress for prom, so I went to a fancy boutique at the mall the next day.
I was admiring one of the dresses when a saleswoman approached me.
“Can I help you… um, ma’am?” she asked, looking at me with disapproval.
“I’m looking for a dress for my granddaughter’s prom,” I said with a smile.
“Well, these dresses are quite expensive. Maybe you should shop at Target instead,” she suggested, crossing her arms.
I understood what she meant. She thought I didn’t belong there because of how I looked.
“I know they’re expensive. I’m just going to look around, okay?” I replied, trying to stay calm.
The saleswoman followed me, throwing more snide comments my way. “I don’t think you understand the prices here, do you? Maybe just ask your granddaughter to pick something cheaper. This is a high-end store, and we have standards.”
It took everything in me to keep my composure.
“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” I said firmly, turning to leave.
But before I could exit, the saleswoman called out, “You’re not welcome here. I’ll call security if you don’t leave!”
I felt humiliated as I walked out. As soon as I stepped outside, tears streamed down my face. I thought about calling Anne to tell her I couldn’t find a dress.
Just then, I noticed a police officer nearby. He must have seen how upset I was.
“Are you okay, ma’am?” he asked, approaching me.
I explained what had happened and how I wanted to find a beautiful dress for Anne.
“Let’s go back in there,” he said with determination.
“You don’t have to do that. I’ll be fine,” I replied.
But he insisted.
“Listen, everyone deserves respect, no matter their age or appearance. I’m going to talk to that saleswoman,” he said.
I felt nervous but followed him back inside.
When we entered the store, the officer marched straight up to the saleswoman.
“Ma’am, I need you to treat this lady with respect. She is here for a legitimate reason, and you shouldn’t judge her based on her appearance,” he said firmly.
The saleswoman went pale, clearly realizing she had crossed the line.
“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—” she stuttered.
The officer interrupted her, saying, “You need to learn that everyone is worthy of kindness and respect. Please treat her as you would any other customer.”
With that, he turned to me and said, “You go ahead and find the perfect dress for your granddaughter.”
With a newfound sense of confidence, I looked around the store and finally found a stunning gown. I felt happy for the first time since I entered.
The officer gave me a thumbs-up as I went to the register. I was still nervous but excited for Anne.
In the end, I bought the dress, and I couldn’t wait to see the smile on my granddaughter’s face.
When I told her about my shopping adventure, Anne’s eyes lit up.
“Grandma, you’re the best! Thank you for making this happen!” she said, pulling me into a tight hug.
And just like that, the incident in the store faded away as we planned for prom together.
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