While Emma is sitting at her desk one afternoon, she gets a surprise delivery. When she opens the box, she finds a cake with an unsettling message and the pregnancy test she forgot to hide. Will she go home and explain the truth to her husband or let him walk away?
I was at my desk, half-typing an email, half-daydreaming about what to make for dinner when the office delivery guy appeared at my office door. He held a bright pink bakery box in his hands, grinning from ear to ear like he was in on some inside joke I didn’t know about.
A woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
“Good afternoon, Emma!” he said enthusiastically. “This is for you!”
“Thank you, Nico,” I said, blinking as he handed me the box.
I hadn’t ordered anything. There were no birthdays or work celebrations planned. So, who would be sending me a cake? My stomach fluttered with curiosity. My husband, Jake, was one of the head bakers at a fancy bakery in town. So, maybe this was just a little treat from him.
A baker in a bakery | Source: Midjourney
The office buzzed with its usual energy, phones ringing, keyboards clacking, people laughing in the break room, everyone just wanted to get out for the day. But in that moment, it all faded into the background. I slowly untied the ribbon, lifted the lid, and froze.
Scrawled across the top of the cake in black frosting were four words that turned my blood cold:
I am divorcing you.
I stared at the words, blinking in disbelief. But there was more!
Placed neatly on the cake, next to the damning message, was a positive pregnancy test.
A cake with a message and a pregnancy test | Source: AmoMama
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Jake had found it. He’d found the pregnancy test that I’d thrown into the bathroom trash this morning, the same test that I was supposed to pick up and bring with me, easy to hide from Jake.
But I was late, and I had forgotten. Now, this? The cake… this was Jake’s response? Divorce. A cake with a slap-in-the-face message.
A pregnancy test in a bin | Source: Midjourney
I gripped the edge of my desk to steady myself, I could feel a panic attack almost rising to the surface. This wasn’t just some cruel joke. Jake thought I had cheated on him.
Why else would he send this?
I closed the box, my mind racing.
Jake had been told years ago that he was infertile. And he believed that there was no way this child could be his. He thought I’d betrayed him, that I’d gone behind his back after everything we’ve been through.
A closed cake box | Source: Midjourney
The truth, though?
The truth was far more complicated.
I hadn’t cheated. Of course not. I hadn’t been with anyone but Jake. The pregnancy test was mine, yes, but I hadn’t told him yet because I needed confirmation from the doctor first.
Honestly, Jake and I had been through so much heartbreak trying to have a baby that I couldn’t stand the idea of getting his hopes up, only to have them crushed.
An upset couple | Source: Midjourney
I remembered our conversation from three years ago.
“I think we should just stop trying for a while,” I said, sitting on our bed.
“What do you mean, Em?” Jake asked. “Just like that, stop trying?”
“We’ve been trying for a baby for the past eighteen months, Jake. I think our bodies need a moment to breathe.”
“You mean my body?” he asked. “It seems like mine is the problem. The doctors have told us that it’s my fault. It’s my sperm. So, yeah. Let’s stop…”
A woman on the bed | Source: Midjourney
After that, it took a lot of work for Jake and me to get back on our feet as a steady couple. Without the pressure of trying to have a baby, we could barely function.
But now, my husband thought the worst of me.
Grabbing the box, I packed up my things and rushed out of the office, ignoring the concerned looks from my coworkers. I didn’t have time to explain. All I could think about was getting home, facing Jake, and explaining the truth.
A woman driving | Source: Midjourney
When I walked through the front door, I saw him immediately. Jake was pacing back and forth across the living room, his face flushed, his body tense with fury.
He turned the second I stepped inside, his eyes wild.
“Tell me the test wasn’t yours!” he shouted.
An angry man | Source: Midjourney
I placed the cake box gently on the kitchen counter and stood still, facing him.
“It is mine, honey,” I said.
Jake’s expression didn’t soften. He looked angrier; he looked ready to explode.
“If you want a divorce, I won’t stop you,” I continued. “But before you walk away from us, there’s something you need to know.”
A pensive woman | Source: Midjourney
His hands balled into fists at his side.
“What could you possibly say, Emma? I thought you loved me. And yet, here you are, having someone else’s baby?”
“Jake, listen to me!” I interrupted. “This baby is yours. You’re going to be a father!”
The words hung in the air.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
Jake stopped pacing, his brow furrowed. For a moment, he just stared at me as if trying to process what I had said. Then he shook his head, his voice trembling with disbelief.
“No. That’s not possible. Emma, I’m infertile. The doctors said it. We’ve been over this for years.”
“Darling, the doctors were wrong,” I said, stepping closer to him. “I went to see Dr. Harper this morning after I took the test. I didn’t want you to see the test before I spoke to her because false positives happen more often than not. She explained everything to me.”
A smiling doctor | Source: Midjourney
My husband’s eyes searched mine, filled with confusion, but he didn’t interrupt me this time. I took a deep breath, knowing it was the time to explain it all, even though I wasn’t entirely sure he’d believe me.
“Jake,” I began. “You were never completely infertile. Dr. Harper told me that you’ve had a condition called oligospermia. It means that your sperm count was low, but it didn’t mean you couldn’t have children. Dr. Harper said that it’s likely that the stress from trying and failing to conceive over the years might have made it worse.”
Jake just looked at me, unable to speak.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Baby, you were never completely unable to have kids…”
My husband’s mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. He sank into the armchair as he processed everything I said.
I watched as the anger drained from his face, replaced with a veil of sheer disbelief. He buried his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking as the realization hit him.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
“Oh my God, Emma,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought you cheated on me. I thought you found someone else because I couldn’t… I thought I couldn’t give you what you always wanted.”
He trailed off, his words dissolving into sobs.
The man I had spent years loving, the man who had been so strong through all our struggles, was breaking down in front of me.
A man sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney
I stood there, watching him crumble, my own heart aching in ways I couldn’t describe. I knew that I should have been happy at this new development in our lives.
I mean, I was finally pregnant after years of trying. This was joy. But I was hurt that Jake had jumped to the worst conclusion, that he hadn’t even asked me before sending that awful cake.
But I understood, too. I understood the years of insecurity, the pain we’d both been through trying to have a child.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry,” Jake said after a while. “I thought… I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t move. I just let him sit there and cry, let him process everything. He apologized over and over, each word dripping with regret. He had been ready to walk away, to end everything because of a misunderstanding, because of his own fears.
But now, now he knew the truth.
A woman standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t deserve you,” he said. “I don’t deserve this chance. But I swear to you, I’ll make it up to you every day. I promise. I’ll be the best father. I’ll be the best husband!”
I felt a lump rise in my throat. This wasn’t how I had imagined telling him. I had dreamed of the moment we’d finally get the news we’d waited so long for. I’d pictured his joy, his tears of happiness. But not this. Not this mess.
But as I stood there, looking at my husband who had just crumbled to pieces, I realized that despite everything, we had been given the one thing we thought we’d never have.
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
A baby.
A future.
“We’ll figure it out,” I whispered, my voice cracking. And for the first time in a long time, I saw hope in Jake’s eyes. When my husband reached for me, this time, I didn’t pull away. We stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of a pregnancy and a baby resting on our shoulders.
A couple embracing | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |
I Hired a Fake Boyfriend for Our Family Dinner – It Turned Out to Be the Best Decision of My Life
Family gatherings were the worst for Lara, especially since her sister, Emily, began to make fun of her love life, or lack thereof. Determined to sit through her father’s birthday dinner, Lara decides to hire a boyfriend for the night. Little did she know that something reminiscent of a romantic comedy would soon play out.
I love my family, but family gatherings used to be a nightmare for me. Every single time we got together, my sister Emily would find some way or the other to poke fun at my single life.
Two smiling women | Source: Midjourney
Last Thanksgiving, she took it too far and even set a place at the table for my “imaginary boyfriend,” complete with a hand-drawn face on a napkin. Everyone around the table laughed while I forced a smile.
“It’s funny, Lara!” she would say whenever I brought up the incident.
It was anything but funny.
A dinner table | Source: Midjourney
Now, my father’s birthday is coming up, and of course, it was to be celebrated with a family dinner.
“There’s no way I can sit through another one of those events with my family,” I told my friend, Kate, when we met for coffee.
“I’m telling you now, Emily probably has something up her sleeve already,” I grumbled.
Two women at a coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
“Then just hire someone out for the night!” Kate chuckled, adding sugar to her coffee.
“Hire a man?” I exclaimed.
“Yes! My sister did it through an agency. She didn’t want to go to her ex-boyfriend’s wedding by herself, so she found the agency. Look, it’s all above board and the guys do exactly what you need them to do.”
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not… sleazy?” I asked, trying to think of a better word.
Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
Entitled Hotel Guest Mocked My Mom Who Works as a Maid, so She Taught Her Never to Mess with Housekeeping Again
When a devoted hotel maid is tormented by a wealthy and arrogant guest, she devises a plan that turns the tables in the most unexpected way. Instead of seeking revenge with anger, she orchestrates a quiet but powerful act of defiance that forces the cruel woman to face the bitter consequences of her actions.
Woman cleaning a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother has always been a source of inspiration for me. As a maid at a fancy local hotel, she takes immense pride in her work. She treats every room as if it were her own, ensuring everything is spotless and welcoming for the guests.
Recently, however, she had an encounter that tested her patience like never before. It all started on a seemingly ordinary day. My mother was assigned to clean room 256, which was occupied by a young woman named Ms. Johnson.
Woman in uniform beside hotel room bed | Source: Pexels
From the moment she stepped into the room, my mother could sense the woman’s dislike for her. Ms. Johnson lounged on the bed, scrolling through her phone, barely acknowledging my mother’s presence.
As my mother meticulously cleaned the room, making sure every surface was spotless, Ms. Johnson suddenly knocked her coffee cup off the table, sending dark liquid spilling onto the freshly mopped floor. She didn’t even flinch. Instead, she looked my mother straight in the eye and sneered, “Clean that up!”
Coffee mug falling | Source: Pexels
My mother’s heart sank. She had worked so hard to make the room perfect, only to see her efforts so carelessly undone. But she knew she couldn’t afford to lose her job. It provided her with a sense of independence and stability for our family.
A person vacuuming a rug | Source: Pexels
Swallowing her pride, she silently cleaned the floor again, all while feeling Ms. Johnson’s piercing gaze on her. As she worked, the woman laughed. The mocking giggle echoed through the room. “Well done for a maid. You didn’t even talk back to me,” she taunted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Tomorrow, I’ll come up with something more interesting for you.”
Woman standing near table with pastries | Source: Pexels
My mother finished her task, holding back tears. She knew showing any sign of distress would only give the woman more satisfaction. That night, as she recounted the story to me, I could see the hurt in her eyes. But there was also a spark of determination. She wasn’t going to let this entitled guest break her spirit.
Mother and daughter sitting at the table holding hands | Source: Pexels
The next day, my mother went to work with a plan. She knew Ms. Johnson would try to humiliate her again, but this time, she was ready. She was determined to show this woman that kindness and respect were not weaknesses and that underestimating the resolve of someone who works with dignity and pride was a grave mistake.
Woman holding a plastic basin with cleaning materials | Source: Pexels
Around mid-morning, my mother walked into room 256 with a steely determination. She had a plan. Sure enough, there she was, Ms. Johnson, reclining on the bed, her smirk already in place.
“Oh, look who’s back,” Ms. Johnson said, her voice dripping with disdain. “Let’s see what mess I can make for you today.” She reached for her coffee cup, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Woman leaning on handrail in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
My mother kept her composure. She knew what to expect. Without a word, she began her cleaning routine, methodically and efficiently, refusing to rise to the bait. As she moved around the room, she noticed something important: Ms. Johnson’s laptop was left open on the table, the screen glowing with unattended work.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” my mother said in her most polite tone. “I need to dust the table. Would you mind closing your laptop?”
Person using phone with laptop on desk | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson huffed and rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she muttered, snapping the laptop shut and placing it to the side with an exaggerated sigh. “But hurry up. I have important work to do.”
“Of course, ma’am,” my mother replied, her voice steady.
Woman relaxing in a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“You’re slower than yesterday,” Ms. Johnson remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Do they not teach speed in maid school?” My mother ignored the jab, focusing on her task.
Ms. Johnson’s impatience was palpable, and she drummed her fingers on the bedside table. “Done yet?” Ms. Johnson snapped.
Woman tiding up a hotel room | Source: Pexels
“Almost, ma’am,” my mother replied calmly.
Just then, the door opened, and Mr. Ramirez, the hotel manager, appeared. He glanced around the room, his sharp eyes taking in the scene. “Good morning, Ms. Johnson,” he greeted her warmly.
“I trust everything is to your satisfaction?”
Hotel manager entering a room | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson scoffed. “It’s fine. Your maid here is just clumsy and slow.”
Mr. Ramirez frowned slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that. Our staff is trained to provide excellent service.”
“Well, maybe she needs more training,” Ms. Johnson said, casting a disdainful look at my mother.
Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, concern evident in his eyes. “Mrs. Adams, is there a problem?”
My mother met his gaze with her calm and professional demeanor. “No, Mr. Ramirez. Everything is under control.”
A chambermaid holding a stack of towels | Source: Pexels
Mr. Ramirez nodded, though his concern lingered. “Ms. Johnson, I assure you, we will make sure your stay is as comfortable as possible.”
Ms. Johnson waved dismissively. “Just make sure she doesn’t break anything.”
Mr. Ramirez gave my mother an encouraging smile before leaving. As the door closed behind him, my mother felt a surge of quiet confidence. She was ready for whatever Ms. Johnson had in store next.
Woman fixing pillows on the bed | Source: Pexels
My mother continued her work, but she had one more trick up her sleeve. She knew Ms. Johnson would never learn unless she experienced a bit of discomfort herself.
As she finished cleaning, my mother subtly dropped a small, harmless but unpleasant-smelling packet under the bed. It was a trick she had learned from an old colleague, a mixture that would release a gradually intensifying odor over time. It wasn’t immediately noticeable, but within a few hours, it would become quite bothersome.
A tidy hotel room | Source: Pexels
“All done, ma’am,” my mother said standing up and gathering her cleaning supplies. “Have a pleasant day.”
The next morning, my mother arrived at work and was immediately greeted by the sight of Ms. Johnson in the lobby, furiously arguing with Mr. Ramirez. Her face was flushed with anger, and her voice carried through the lobby.
Man and woman standing in a hotel lobby | Source: Pexels’
“I can’t stay in that room! It smells awful! How can you expect guests to stay in such conditions?” Ms. Johnson was practically shouting, drawing the attention of other guests and staff members.
Mr. Ramirez, ever the professional, maintained his calm demeanor. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Johnson. We take such matters very seriously. We’ll investigate the cause of the smell immediately and move you to another room in the meantime.”
Two people standing at a hotel entrance | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson, still fuming, stormed off, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. Mr. Ramirez turned to my mother, who had been quietly watching the scene unfold.
“Mrs. Adams, could you please check Ms. Johnson’s room and see if you can find the source of the smell?” he asked, his voice calm but concerned. “Of course,” my mother replied, hiding a smile. She headed to room 256, her heart pounding with satisfaction.
A clean hotel room | Source: Unsplash
Inside the room, my mother quickly found the packet she had placed under the bed and discreetly removed it. She then opened the windows and turned on the fan, allowing fresh air to circulate and clear the odor. As she worked, she couldn’t help but feel a small surge of triumph. Ms. Johnson had finally tasted a bit of her own medicine.
Woman carrying a stack of towers | Source: Pexels’
As she left the room, she ran into Mr. Ramirez in the hallway. “Did you find the source of the smell?” he asked.
“Yes, Mr. Ramirez,” my mother replied. “It seems something had been left under the bed. I’ve removed it and aired out the room. It should be fine now.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Adams,” Mr. Ramirez said, a hint of relief in his voice. “You’ve done an excellent job, as always.”
Hotel worker doing room service | Source: Pexels
My mother nodded and continued with her day, knowing that sometimes, justice is served in the smallest of actions. But that wasn’t enough. My mom had one more lesson to teach Ms. Johnson.
The next day, she was assigned to help move Ms. Johnson’s belongings to another room. As usual, Mom did her job efficiently, ensuring every item was carefully placed in the new room.
Delivery man holding a cardboard box | Source: Pexels
Later that afternoon, a courier arrived with a package for room 256; Ms. Johnson’s previous room. Aware that Ms. Johnson had moved to room 312, Mom saw this as her chance to deliver a delayed but impactful lesson.
“Excuse me, sir,” she said to the courier, stepping forward with a polite smile. “The guest in room 256 has been moved to room 312. You can leave the package at the front desk, and I will ensure it gets to her.” The courier nodded, handing over the package. “Thank you. I appreciate it,” he said, already turning to leave.
A person holding a package | Source: Pexels
My mother took the package to the front desk and, with a smile, placed it in the corner behind some other deliveries, making sure it would not be found immediately.
The next day, Ms. Johnson was in a frenzy. She was preparing for her flight and an important event later that evening. Suddenly, she realized something crucial was missing. She frantically called the front desk, her voice shaking with panic.
An angry woman in aa grey tank top | Source: Pexels
“I had a package delivered to room 256. Where is it? It has my plane tickets and my dress for tonight’s event!” Ms. Johnson’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation.
The front desk clerk, taken aback by her intensity, quickly checked the records. After some confusion and a hurried search, they found the package tucked away in the corner. The clerk immediately called my mother to deliver it to Ms. Johnson’s new room, 312.
Receptionist making a phone call | Source: Pexels
My mother, with a calm and measured pace, made her way to the room. She knocked on Ms. Johnson’s door, her expression serene. The woman yanked the door open, her eyes wide with anxiety. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for that package!” she snapped.
“Here is your package, ma’am. It was delivered to the wrong room,” my mother said sweetly, holding out the package.
A person holding a brown box | Source: Pexels
Ms. Johnson snatched the package from her hands and ripped it open. Her face fell as she realized the delay had cost her dearly. The tickets were now useless, and she had no time to prepare for her event. Frustration and defeat were etched into her features. She could only muster a weak, “Thanks,” before slamming the door in my mother’s face.
Mom walked away, a slight smile playing on her lips. She knew she had given Ms. Johnson a taste of her own medicine, all without stepping outside the bounds of her duties. It was a quiet victory, but a deeply satisfying one.
Woman standing under a chandelier of a hotel room | Source: Pexels
When my mother told me about the incident later, I could see the relief in her eyes. “Sometimes,” she said, her voice soft but firm, “the best revenge is simply letting people experience the consequences of their own actions.”
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