My Homewrecking Best Friend Slept With My Husband (And I Took Extreme Measures to Get Revenge)

Viral | Written by Amelia Rose | Updated on 1 November 2024

The world spun as I stared at my husband’s face, flushed with guilt and tangled in urgency with my best friend—Caitlyn.

For years, I trusted them both, tethered my life to them, only to find them standing there, hiding behind lame excuses about “surprise parties” and poorly veiled secrets. Betrayal doesn’t often; it’s a thunderous shock, tearing down every wall of security until there’s nothing but raw, blinding pain.

But no one will see me shattered for long. They may have turned my life upside down, but I’m about to flip it right back, harder than they could ever expect. Just wait—there’s a storm coming, and I’m the one bringing it.

A Subtle Shift

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across our bedroom. I stretched lazily, savoring the rare moment of tranquility before the day began. James was already up, his side of the bed cool to the touch.

“Morning, Mom!” Emma called from downstairs.

“Be right there!” I replied, throwing on a robe. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee beckoned me to the kitchen.

Emma sat at the table, scrolling through her phone. Her blue eyes—so much like her father’s—flicked up. “Caitlyn dropped off some bagels earlier. Said she couldn’t stay but sends her love.”

I smiled. “She’s always so thoughtful.”

Caitlyn had been my best friend since college. Through marriages, careers, and motherhood, we’d navigated life’s twists together. Her spontaneous gestures were just another reason I cherished her.

James walked in, adjusting his tie. “Morning, ladies.”

“There’s coffee fresh,” I offered.

He poured himself a cup. “Big meeting today. Don’t wait up if I’m late.”

“Another one?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light. “That’s the third this week.”

He shrugged. “Client demands. You know how it is.”

I did know. As a project manager for a marketing firm, I was no stranger to tight deadlines. Still, an uneasy feeling tugged at me.

“Good luck,” I said, kissing his cheek.

He gave a fleeting smile before grabbing his briefcase and heading out the door.

The Forgotten Anniversary

At the office, the day blurred into a series of meetings and emails. Around noon, a notification popped up on my calendar: “Anniversary Dinner with James.”

I blinked. In the chaos of work and life, I’d nearly forgotten. It was our twentieth anniversary.

Grabbing my phone, I dialed James. It went straight to voicemail. “Hey, just confirming dinner tonight at Bella Vita. Can’t wait to celebrate. Love you.”

I sent a quick text to Caitlyn. “Can you believe it’s been twenty years? Feels like yesterday we were all in college.”

Her reply was swift. “Time flies! Let me know how the celebration goes! 😊”

The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind. By the time I left the office, I was buzzing with anticipation.

An Empty Table

Bella Vita was dimly lit, candles flickering on linen-draped tables. Soft jazz played in the background, the ambiance perfect for an intimate celebration.

I checked my watch. James was ten minutes late. I ordered a glass of wine, telling myself he was probably stuck in traffic.

Another twenty minutes passed. Concern gnawed at me. I called him again—no answer.

“Would you like to order, ma’am?” the waiter asked gently.

“Not just yet,” I forced a smile. “I’ll wait a bit longer.”

An hour later, I left the restaurant, heart heavy. Outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the sting of disappointment.

As I drove home, I rationalized. Maybe there was a work emergency. Maybe his phone died.

But deep down, doubt lurked.

Shadows in the Night

The house was dark when I arrived. Emma was studying at a friend’s place, and James’s car was nowhere in sight.

I tried calling him again. Voicemail.

Entering the house, I flicked on the lights and set my purse on the counter. A folded note caught my eye.

“Sorry about tonight. Got held up. Talk tomorrow.”

No “Love, James” or even a signature. Just a cold, impersonal message.

I sank onto the couch, a mix of anger and hurt churning within me.

My phone buzzed—a text from Caitlyn. “How was dinner? Did you two have a magical night?”

I hesitated before typing back, “He didn’t show.”

Three dots appeared, then vanished. Her reply came after a long pause. “I’m so sorry, Sarah. Maybe something urgent came up.”

“Maybe,” I responded, though uncertainty gnawed at me.

Exhausted, I decided to call it a night.

A Glimpse of the Hidden

The next morning, I awoke to the sound of muffled voices downstairs. Glancing at the clock—6:30 AM—I wondered who could be visiting so early.

Wrapping a robe around myself, I descended the stairs quietly.

Through the partially open kitchen door, I saw James and Caitlyn engaged in a hushed conversation. Their backs were to me, but the tension was palpable.

“She can’t find out,” James whispered urgently.

Caitlyn placed a hand on his arm. “I know. We’re being careful.”

My heart lurched, confusion and alarm bells ringing in my mind.

I stepped back, accidentally knocking into the hall table. A vase wobbled and crashed to the floor.

They turned abruptly. “Sarah!” Caitlyn exclaimed, her cheeks flushing. “You’re up early.”

“I could say the same,” I replied, forcing a casual tone. “Everything okay?”

James cleared his throat. “Yes, Caitlyn just dropped by to discuss… the surprise party we’re planning for Emma.”

Caitlyn nodded vigorously. “Yes! Her birthday is coming up, after all.”

Emma’s birthday was in six months.

I met their eyes, searching for answers. “Right. Well, I don’t want to spoil any surprises.”

An awkward silence settled.

“I should get going,” Caitlyn said hastily, grabbing her purse. “Talk later?”

“Of course,” I replied, watching her leave.

James avoided my gaze. “I have to head out early. See you tonight?”

“Sure,” I said softly.

As the door closed behind him, I stood alone, uncertainty gripping me. Something was definitely wrong.

The Uneasy Discovery

Determined to shake off the morning’s odd encounter, I busied myself with chores. Yet, the image of James and Caitlyn whispered in the back of my mind.

Deciding some fresh air might help, I went to the laundry room to grab a jacket. As I reached up, a glint caught my eye—a familiar scarf stuffed behind the dryer.

Frowning, I pulled it free. It was Caitlyn’s—a unique silk print I’d admired before.

“What is this doing here?” I murmured.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach.

I dialed her number. “Hey, Caitlyn. Did you leave a scarf here?”

There was a slight hesitation. “Oh, maybe! I’ve been looking for it.”

“Found it behind the dryer. Seems odd.”

She laughed nervously. “I must have dropped it during a visit. Thanks for finding it.”

“Sure,” I replied, unconvinced.

After hanging up, doubts swirled. I decided to check the house for any other anomalies.

In the den, a wine glass sat on the side table—lipstick marks not matching any shades I owned. Small things, but together they painted a troubling picture.

Echoes at the Office

At work the next day, I confided in my colleague, Lydia.

“Maybe I’m being paranoid,” I began, laying out the strange occurrences.

She listened thoughtfully. “Trust your instincts. Have you talked to James about it?”

“I tried, but he brushes everything off.”

She tapped a pen against her notebook. “What about Caitlyn?”

“I don’t want to accuse her without proof.”

“Maybe there’s another explanation.”

“Maybe,” I conceded, though unease lingered.

Later, as I passed the break room, I overheard snippets of conversation.

“Did you hear about the office affair?”

“Scandalous! Best friends, too.”

I paused, the words hitting too close to home. Stepping inside, I faced the two gossiping interns.

“Care to share the latest?” I asked lightly.

They exchanged glances. “Just office rumors,” one mumbled.

“Right,” I said, forcing a smile. “Carry on.”

Back at my desk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was unraveling.

Confronting the Silence

That evening, I prepared James’s favorite dinner—roasted chicken with thyme. If there was a time to bridge the growing gap, it was now.

He arrived late, looking weary.

“Smells good,” he remarked, loosening his tie.

“I thought we could have a nice meal together,” I suggested.

He nodded, but his mind seemed elsewhere.

As we ate, I broached the subject gently. “Is everything alright? You seem distant lately.”

He avoided my gaze. “Just work stress.”

“You can talk to me.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted, a hint of irritation in his tone.

After a pause, I tried a different approach. “I found Caitlyn’s scarf here yesterday.”

“Did you?” he said cautiously.

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About the Author

Amelia Rose

Amelia is a world-renowned author who crafts short stories where justice prevails, inspired by true events. All names and locations have been altered to ensure the privacy of the individuals involved.