Darling, could you pick me up from work? – She called her husband, hoping to skip a tiring forty-minute journey on public transport after a long day.

“Darling, can you pick me up from work?” Emily called her husband, hoping to avoid a tiring forty-minute bus ride after a long day.

“Love, could you fetch me from the office?” she pleaded, desperate not to endure the cramped journey home.

“Im busy,” replied Henry curtly. In the background, the television blaredproof he was lounging at home.

A pang of sadness struck Emily. Their marriage was crumbling, and just six months ago, Henry had promised to cherish her forever. What had changed so quickly? She couldnt understand.

She kept herself fit, spending hours at the gym. Her cooking was superbno surprise she worked at a bustling restaurant. Never had she asked for money, never caused a scene, always eager to fulfil his every whim

“Youll wear him out like this,” her mother warned. “You cant spoil a man rotten.”

“I just love him,” Emily replied, forcing a weak smile. “And he loves me too”

*****

Eventually, he grew tired of her. Emily bit her lip, scrolling through Henrys browser history. He spent all his free time on dating sites, chatting with multiple women. *Why didnt he just tell me?* she wondered. *Id have let him go. Why suffer, staying with someone he doesnt love?*

So, divorce. She was strongshed survive. But not without a little revenge.

That same night, she signed up on the same site, found Henry, and struck up a conversation. She grabbed a random photo online, tweaked it slightly, and knew hed take the bait. He did.

Their messages flew fast. Henry claimed he was single, ready for commitment, even children. He boasted about his “wonderful character,” making Emily laugh bitterly. She knew firsthand how difficult he was.

“Lets meet,” she typed, eagerly awaiting his reply.

“Brilliant!” came the instant response. “But my sisters staying over, revising for uni exams. Well meet somewhere neutral, then head to a hotel?”

*Seriously?* Emily whispered. *Who would agree to that?* But it suited her plan.

“Come to mine instead. Ive a cottage on the outskirts. No one will disturb us” Would he fall for it?

“Perfect!” Henry replied, clearly thrilledlikely at saving money. “Send the address. Ill be there by ten.”

“25 Willow Lane. Ten sharp.”

At nine, Henry faked a work emergency. Frustrated, he searched for his car keys. “Have you seen them?” he muttered.

“Left them on the table,” Emily said innocently, the keys tucked in her pocket. “Maybe the cat took them?”

But Emily wasnt waiting. She packed her thingsthankfully, she owned a flat inherited from her grandmother. The only thing left behind? Divorce papers, placed prominently on the table.

Henry returned the next morning, furious. The trip had taken over an hour, and “Lucy” from the site was nowhere to be found. The address was realjust not the glamorous woman he expected. The door opened to a woman twice his size, draped in a sheer robe. Hed have paid any sum to unsee it.

Escaping was a battle. A taxi took ages to arrive, leaving him shivering in his thin coat. The driver, a stranger, detoured endlesslya night from hell.

Only when he saw the divorce papers, the bright red lipstick scrawl beside them, did he realise the truth:

*Sweet revenge, darling.*

The lesson? Deception always circles backand sometimes, karma wears a sheer dressing gown.