“Darling, could you pick me up from work?” She called her husband, hoping to avoid a tiresome forty-minute commute on public transport after a heavy day.
“Love, can you collect me from the office?” Holly rang her husband, praying she wouldnt have to endure the bus ride home, cramped and weary.
“Bit busy,” came Peters curt reply. In the background, the telly droned on, proof he was lounging at home.
A deep sadness settled over Holly. Their marriage was fraying, and just six months ago, Peter had promised to carry her through life. What had changed so quickly? She couldnt fathom it.
She kept herself fit, spending hours at the gym. Cooked brilliantlyno surprise she worked at a bustling bistro. Never asked for money, never made a scene, always ready to indulge Peters whims
“Youll wear him out like this,” her mum warned whenever Holly complained. “Cant spoil a man rotten.”
“I just love him,” Holly would reply with a helpless smile. “And he loves me”
*****
“Thats it, then. Hes had enough,” Holly thought, biting her lip as she scrolled through his browser history. Turned out, Peter spent all his free time on dating sites, chatting up multiple women. “Why not just tell me? Id have let him go. Why suffer, stuck with a woman he doesnt love?”
Divorce, then. She was strongshed manage. But she wouldnt let him off without a little revenge
That very night, Holly signed up on the same site, found him, and struck up a conversation. Snatched some random photo off the internet, touched it up, and knew hed take the bait. He did.
The messages flew fast. Peter claimed he wasnt married, swore he was ready for commitment, even kids. Bragged about his sterling character, which made Holly laugh till tears came. She knew exactly how difficult he was.
“Fancy meeting up?” she typed, waiting eagerly for his reply.
“Brilliant,” came the instant response. “Though my sisters staying over briefly, cramming for entrance exams. So neutral spot first, then maybe a hotel?”
“Seriously?” Holly muttered, reading the message. “Who assumes a woman would just agree to that? Any decent person would be insulted! But fineworks for me.”
“How about my place? Ive got a cottage on the outskirts, totally private” She wonderedwould he go for it?
“Perfect!” Peter clearly chuffedprobably thrilled to skip spending extra quid. “Send the address and time. Ill be there on loves wings.”
“25 Willow Lane, ten tonight. Suit you?”
“Spot on! Expect me.”
At nine, Peter faked an urgent work call. Couldnt find his car keys and grudgingly asked his wife if shed seen them.
“They were on the table,” Holly said, wide-eyed, fingers tight around the keys in her pocket. “Maybe the cat took them?”
But Holly wasnt sticking around. Why bother? She packed her thingsthankfully, she had her own flat, inherited from Gran. All she left behind was the divorce papers, placed conspicuously on the table.
Peter didnt stagger home till morning, fuming. Not only had the trip taken over an hour, but the mysterious Emily from the site was a no-show.
The address was real, the cottage too. But the woman who answered wasnt the model-like beauty from the photo. She was twice his size, wrapped in a threadbare robe, and Peter wouldve paid a kings ransom to unsee it.
Took a fight just to escape! Had to call a cab, shivered in his thin coat waiting ages. The driver, some odd bloke, took him on a detour first Quite the night.
Only when he stumbled into the flat and saw the divorce papersand the message scrawled beside them in red lipstickdid he realise whod orchestrated it all:
“Sweet revenge, love.”
