Some gifts warm the heart. My husband’s Christmas present? It ignited a fire of rage. I spent the next year plotting the perfect revenge, and when he unwrapped his gift, the look on his face was my real Christmas present.
Have you ever received a gift that made your stomach drop and your blood boil at the same time? I’m not talking about an ugly sweater or a fruit cake nobody wants. I mean the kind of present that makes you question if the person who gave it to you knows you at all. Or worse, if they even care. What my husband Murphy did one Christmas had me planning revenge for an entire year.
Presents under a Christmas tree | Source: Unsplash
Money was always tight in our household.
Murphy worked at the metal fabrication plant downtown, pulling double shifts that left his hands calloused and his back aching. He’d come home smelling of metal shavings and machine oil, proud of providing for our family but too tired to notice anything else.
Meanwhile, I cobbled together an income tutoring kids in math and watching the neighbors’ children, which wasn’t much but helped keep food on the table and the lights on. Between mortgage payments and growing teenagers, we pinched every penny until it screamed.
A woman putting a coin in a piggy bank | Source: Pexels
We had a mutual agreement about Christmas: we’d scrape together enough for presents for our girls and our parents, but nothing for each other. It worked for 16 years of our marriage until Murphy decided to change the rules without warning me first.
“Susan! Come here, I got something for you!” Murphy’s voice boomed through our small house one evening, ten days before Christmas.
The excitement in his voice made me drop the math worksheet I was grading for little Tommy, who still couldn’t quite grasp long division.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I wiped my hands on my apron and walked into the living room.
There he stood, grinning like a kid who’d just found the cookie jar, with a massive box wrapped in sparkly paper that must have cost at least $5 a roll.
“What’s this about?” I asked, my heart racing.
The box was huge, nearly reaching my waist, and wrapped with unusual care for a man who typically considered tape and newspaper to be good enough for any package.
A huge gift box near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“It’s your Christmas present! I know we don’t do this usually, but I wanted to do something special this year. Something big!”
“Murphy, we can’t afford—”
“Just wait till Christmas Eve, Sus! You’re gonna love it! I promise you’ve never gotten anything like this before.”
I had no idea how right he was.
A woman sitting on the couch and looking up | Source: Midjourney
Our daughters, Mia and Emma, peeked around the corner with their art supplies, giggling like they used to when they were little, not the teenagers they’d become.
“Dad’s been so secretive about it,” Mia whispered. “He wouldn’t even let us help wrap it!”
“He spent forever in the garage getting it ready, Mom!” Emma added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
That should have been my first warning sign.
Two cheerful teenage girls smiling | Source: Pexels
For the next ten days, that box sat under our Christmas tree, taunting me. Every time I walked past it, I’d try to guess what could be inside.
Maybe Murphy had saved up all year for something special. Maybe he’d noticed me eyeing that velvety quilt in the store window, or remembered me mentioning how much I missed having a nice television set since ours broke last spring.
Sometimes I’d catch him staring at the box with this proud little smile, like he’d solved all the world’s problems with whatever was inside.
A man looking at something | Source: Midjourney
Christmas Eve arrived with a flurry of activity. Our girls were sprawled on the floor by the tree, while Murphy’s parents settled onto our worn couch that had seen better days.
His mother, Eleanor, kept shooting me knowing looks, while his father, Frank, nursed his usual cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey.
The room smelled of cinnamon and pine, thanks to the three cookie-scented candles I’d splurged on at the dollar store. Christmas carols played softly on our old radio. And outside, the neighbors’ lighting display cast multicolored shadows through our windows as I set a tray of brownies on the table.
A woman holding a wooden tray of brownies | Source: Pexels
“Open it, Mom!” Emma squealed. “It’s the biggest present under the tree! Even bigger than the one Dad got for Grandma!”
Murphy nodded encouragingly, his work boots tapping against the carpet in an excited rhythm. “Go ahead, Sus. Show everyone what Santa brought you.”
My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the paper, trying to savor the moment. The girls leaned forward, and I lifted the lid.
My heart stopped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“A vacuum cleaner?” I whispered, staring at the box with its cheerful product photos showing all its “amazing features.”
“Top of the line!” Murphy beamed. “I already tested it in the garage… works like a dream! Gets all the metal shavings right up! Even does the corners!”
The girls exchanged glances before bursting into giggles. Eleanor pressed her lips together so hard they nearly disappeared, while Frank suddenly became very interested in the contents of his coffee mug, probably wishing he’d added more whiskey.
A vacuum cleaner on the floor | Source: Pexels
“Oh, and when you’re done with it in here,” Murphy added, still grinning like he’d just given me the crown jewels, “make sure to put it back in the garage. That’s where it’ll live most of the time. The suction on this baby is perfect for my workspace! No more metal dust anywhere!”
I fled to our bedroom, but Murphy followed, his heavy footsteps echoing behind me like thunder. I burst into tears as soon as he closed the door, the sound of Christmas carols mocking me from downstairs.
“A vacuum cleaner? Seriously? Your first Christmas gift to me in 16 years is a VACUUM CLEANER?”
A shocked woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“What’s wrong with that? It’s practical. Do you know how much these things cost? It’s top of the line!”
“Practical? You bought yourself a garage vacuum and wrapped it up as my Christmas present! You might as well have gift-wrapped a mop and bucket!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Susan. It’s for the whole family—”
“A $5 bracelet would have meant more! Just something that showed you thought of me as your wife and NOT your MAID! Something that said ‘I love you,’ not ‘Here’s another way to clean up after everyone!’”
An angry man frowning | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, jaw clenching like it did when the bills came due.
“You’re acting like a spoiled princess. Remember where you came from. Your folks are farmers! Do they even know what a vacuum cleaner is?! At least I’m thinking about upgrading our home!”
“Get out!” I roared. “GET. OUT.”
“Fine,” he snapped, yanking the door open. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s a good gift! Most wives would be grateful! Because presents are something a family could use, not what you would want.”
An angry woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
That night, I slept on the couch, wrapped in rage and heartache. Through the thin walls, I could hear Murphy telling his parents I was being “selfish” about the whole thing.
Eleanor’s murmured response was too quiet to make out, but Frank’s grunt of disapproval came through clearly.
As I lay there in the dark, watching the neighbors’ Christmas lights dance across our ceiling, a plan began to form in my head. Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, or in this case, wrapped in glittery paper and waiting an entire year.
Christmas lights shining through a window curtain | Source: Unsplash
I smiled into the darkness, already calculating how much I’d need to save from my tutoring money to make it perfect.
The following Christmas, I invited every relative within driving distance. Aunts, uncles, cousins — anyone who might appreciate a good show.
Murphy grumbled about the expense until he spotted his gift under the tree. It was the biggest box of all, wrapped in paper that cost $10 a roll this time.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyes lighting up like a child’s.
“Just a little something special. You do so much for us, honey. I wanted this Christmas to be MEMORABLE!”
A huge gift box against the backdrop of a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“Mom went shopping all by herself,” Mia chimed in. “She wouldn’t even tell us what it is! But she looked so happy when she came home.”
“Cost a pretty penny too,” I added, watching Murphy’s eyes grow wider.
He spent the next few days shaking the box when he thought no one was looking, like a kid trying to guess what Santa brought.
Christmas Eve arrived again. Our living room was packed with family, all eyes on Murphy as he approached his present.
Guests in a room | Source: Pexels
Aunt Martha perched on the armrest of the couch, while Uncle Bill and his three kids crowded around the fireplace.
Even cousin Pete, who never came to family gatherings, had shown up after I hinted there would be some “holiday entertainment.”
“Open it, Dad!” Emma urged, her phone ready to record the moment. “The suspense is killing everyone!”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
The gift wrapper fell away. Murphy’s face went from excitement to confusion to HORROR as he stared at the industrial-sized case of toilet paper in the box.
It was premium four-ply, with “extra soft comfort” plastered across the box in cheerful letters, and “perfect for home AND workshop use!” printed in bold red.
“What is this?” he sputtered, “TOILET PAPER??”
A pile of toilet paper | Source: Unsplash
I stood up, channeling my best game show host voice.
“It’s premium four-ply toilet paper! Because Christmas isn’t about what we want, it’s about what the family needs. Right, honey? And this will be perfect for the bathroom AND your garage! I even got the industrial size, since you love practical gifts so much!”
Our daughters doubled over laughing. Aunt Martha choked on her eggnog. Uncle Bill slapped his knee so hard it echoed, while his kids collapsed in fits of giggles. Cousin Pete actually fell off his chair.
A young man sitting on a chair and laughing | Source: Pexels
“Who gives their husband toilet paper for Christmas?” Murphy’s face turned scarlet as he looked around the room full of amused relatives.
I smiled angelically. “Who gives their wife a vacuum cleaner?”
He stormed upstairs, muttering under his breath, while the family erupted in laughter and approval. Even Eleanor gave me a subtle high-five when no one was looking.
A furious man yelling | Source: Midjourney
“Well played, Susan,” Frank chuckled, raising his coffee mug in salute. “Well played indeed. Maybe next year he’ll think twice about ‘practical’ gifts.”
That was five years ago. Murphy hasn’t mentioned Christmas presents since, and “selfish” has mysteriously disappeared from his vocabulary.
But just in case he ever gets another bright idea about “practical” gifts, I keep a special shelf in the closet, ready for next year’s wrapping paper. Sometimes the best revenge isn’t served cold, it’s served with a bow on top, and maybe some premium four-ply toilet paper to wrap it in.
A roll of toilet paper wrapped in golden satin ribbon | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Missed the Birth of Our First Child — After Discharge, I Returned to an Empty House and a Creepy Note in the Crib
When Elena is in hospital, ready to give birth to her and Michael’s first baby, she finds herself alone with her mother. Michael was simply nowhere to be found. Upon discharge, Elena walks into the house hoping to find Michael there with an explanation. Instead, she finds a note from Michael blaming Elena’s mother for his disappearance. Where is Michael and what happened?
I always thought that the happiest day of my life was the day I married Michael. But then we found out that I was pregnant, and I figured that the day I gave birth to our baby was going to be the happiest.
A woman holding a pregnancy test | Source: Midjourney
Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a nightmare. Michael had promised me that he would be there, holding my hand as we welcomed our first child into the world.
We had planned every detail together, from the music that would play in the delivery room to the tiny hat he would place on our baby’s head.
But when the time came, Michael just wasn’t there.
A pregnant woman sitting on a hospital chair | Source: Midjourney
I remember the nurses’ sympathetic smiles as they assured me that he was probably just delayed. With each passing minute, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse.
I had been calling him for hours, leaving desperate voicemails, but there was no response. As the contractions intensified, so did my fear. Was I really about to do this by myself? What could have kept him from being here?
A close up of a worried woman | Source: Midjourney
“Come on, Michael,” I said through gritted teeth.
When my daughter arrived, I was overwhelmed with joy, but it was tainted by the empty spot beside me where my husband should have been. Where was Michael? Why hadn’t he shown up?
My mother was with me throughout, holding my hand when Michael should have been, but I could see the worry in her eyes, too. And if she knew anything, she certainly didn’t tell me.
A smiling older woman | Source: Midjourney
“Just relax, Elena,” my mother said. “Focus on Emily now. And yourself; your body needs a moment.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m just worried.”
After two days in the hospital, I was finally discharged. My mother helped me carry Emily to the car, and we headed home. The ride was silent, and my mother kept drumming her fingers against the steering wheel.
A close up of a woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
I tried to keep myself calm, telling myself that there must be a reasonable explanation for Michael’s absence. Maybe something happened at work. Maybe he’d had an accident and was away in another hospital.
The scenarios grew wilder with each mile we drove.
But nothing could have prepared me for what I found when we got home.
The driveway leading to a house | Source: Midjourney
The house was eerily quiet. I pushed open the door, half-expecting Michael to be waiting inside with some excuse that I could forgive after seeing the look on his face.
“Michael?” I called out, my voice echoing through the empty rooms. “Michael, are you here?”
No answer.
A postpartum woman standing in a doorway | Source: Midjourney
“Be quiet, Elena,” my mother said. “Emily is sleeping.”
I ignored her and hurried upstairs. I had to check the nursery; maybe he was in there, just waiting for us to come home. We had spent weeks perfecting our daughter’s nursery to exactly how I envisioned it throughout my pregnancy.
But when I opened the door to the nursery, my breath caught in my throat.
A close up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
The room was almost empty. The crib was there, but all the decorations, the stuffed animals, our daughter’s outfits, and the blankets we had lovingly chosen together were gone. All that remained was a single piece of paper, placed neatly inside the crib.
I love you and our baby, Elena. But I have to leave forever. Ask your mom why she did this. I’ve taken some of Emily’s things to remember you both.
A piece of paper in an empty crib | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the note, my mind struggling to make sense of the words. What did Michael mean? Why did he have to leave? And what did my mother have to do with any of this?
“Mom!” I shouted, trying to get down the stairs as fast as my postpartum body would allow. I clutched onto the note tightly as I thundered into the living room where she was sitting on the couch with Emily asleep in her arms.
An older woman holding a newborn | Source: Midjourney
“What is this?” I demanded, thrusting the note at her. “What did you do? Where is my husband?”
She looked at me with heavy eyes. And for a moment, I saw a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place. Guilt? Regret?
“I didn’t want you to find out this way…” she said quietly.
A close up of an older woman | Source: Midjourney
“What? Find out what?” I nearly screamed at her. “What are you talking about? Tell me now!”
She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for what she was about to say.
“I found out something about Michael, honey. And it was just too big to keep to myself. He needed to know that I knew.”
“Knew what? Why are you talking in riddles?” I asked closing my eyes, suddenly exhausted.
A close up of a woman with closed eyes | Source: Midjourney
“He’s been having an affair, darling,” she said. “With someone from his office. Imagine the nerve.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, and I had to sit down quickly.
“No, Mom,” I found myself saying. “That can’t be true at all. Michael wouldn’t do that to us. He loves me! And he’s been so excited about our baby and growing our little family!”
A close up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“I wish it wasn’t true, darling. Do you think I enjoyed being right?” she asked softly. “I overheard him talking to someone on the phone. They were talking about meeting at a motel. I confronted him about it, and he admitted it. He’s been seeing his boss, a woman who’s much wealthier than we could have ever dreamed. She’s been offering him things he couldn’t refuse.”
“You mean… the promotion? It wasn’t just hard work? And the car wasn’t just because he made a big deal for the company?” I gasped.
A smiling man sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney
My chest felt tight, like all the air had been sucked out of the room.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, tears streaming down my face as my lower pelvis ached. “Why didn’t you give me the chance to talk to him? A chance to fix it?”
“Oh, honey,” my mother said soothingly. “I gave him the chance. I told him that he had to tell you everything or leave, for good. I knew that if he told you everything, it would mean that he was still a good man with redeeming qualities. But see this? He chose to leave you, to leave Emily.”
A close up of an upset woman | Source: Midjourney
For a moment, I didn’t want to believe my mother. I wanted to believe Michael, and that there was more to this story. How else could my mother have sat there during my labor, holding my hand while knowing the truth?
It made no sense to me.
Well, one thing made sense to me. My mother had never really taken to Michael in the way I had hoped. She tolerated him and liked that he took care of me. But there was nothing beyond that. They had no other relationship beyond me.
What if my mother just wanted him out?
Unknowingly, I said all these thoughts out loud.
An upset woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney
“Really? Elena! You think I’d purposely hurt my daughter and jeopardize her relationship with her father?” my mother cried. “He hurt you by choosing to have an affair. I can tell you everything you need to know, but I need you to believe me.”
This couldn’t be happening. My husband, the man I had trusted with my life, had betrayed me, and my mother had forced him to leave without giving me the chance to even hear him out.
“You shouldn’t have taken that choice away from me,” I said. “You should have let me decide what to do!”
My mother gripped my thigh tightly.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m so sorry, Elena,” she said. “I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want you to suffer more than you already did; this pregnancy was a lot on your body and mind, my darling.”
She seemed earnest enough, but I couldn’t help but be angry with her. All I could think about was how everything I had known, everything I had believed in, had been ripped away in an instant.
My husband was gone, and probably off with his mistress, my mother had betrayed my trust, and I was left alone with a newborn and a broken heart.
A silhouette of a couple | Source: Midjourney
Emily’s eyes opened, and before I knew it, her little mouth twisted into a cry.
“She’s hungry,” my mother said. “Maybe one day, when Emily goes through something where she needs her mother to protect her more than give her a choice, you’ll understand why I did what I did.”
I nodded.
A crying baby girl | Source: Midjourney
“I’m sure you’re right, Mom,” I said, slipping my shirt off my arm to feed my little girl. “But I need some space for a little while. I need to adjust to being a single parent right now.”
“But you’re not alone, Elena!” my mother exclaimed. “Michael may have chosen to leave you, but I’m still here. I’m right there to love and support you. And your little girl.”
“I know that,” I said. “But this is the choice I’m making.”
“I’ll make you some food and then I’ll leave,” my mother said. “Please, let me do that. Let me plan meals for a week. Okay?”
A woman in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Fine,” I said, grateful for the assistance even though I didn’t want to look at her.
In the days that followed our hospital return, I thought about Michael’s behavior closer. Of course he was having an affair. There were endless late nights and shared dinners with “colleagues over business.” It was clear now, that during those intimate hours, Michael and his boss were becoming closer.
I tried to contact Michael many times, but it always went to voicemail. Until one day, when he answered by accident. I could tell he had no intention of answering the phone because his voice was thick with sleep.
“Michael?” I asked.
“Elena?” he gasped.
“Is it true?” I asked.
A sleepy man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Yes. All of it,” he said. “I’m not coming back. I was excited to start my life with you and our baby, but I’ve grown to love Gretchen and our lives together. I have to give this a chance. And the least I can do is transfer the house to your name only. Gretchen’s lawyers will do it soon.”
I couldn’t believe my ears.
Michael never contacted me again, and I didn’t reach out either. He disappeared from my life as quickly as he had entered it. But at least my daughter didn’t meet him and get to experience any of that.
She was safely away from Michael.
A smiling woman holding her baby | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
My MIL Thought I Was Cheating on Her Daughter and Tried to Teach Me a Harsh Lesson
When Mike plans a surprise weekend away for his and Steph’s anniversary, he hires an event planner to do most of the work. But when a nosy mother-in-law catches wind of Mike with another woman, things get out of control…
So, let me set a scene for you. It’s hilarious now, but it was anything but when it actually happened.
A man laughing | Source: Midjourney
I’m Mike and I’ve been happily married to my wife, Steph, for ten years. We had a perfect little life with our eight-year-old son, Jack. Steph and I are the kind of couple that people envy.
As lame as it sounds, we have been completely in sync since we got married, finishing each other’s sentences, the whole deal.
Or at least, we were until my mother-in-law, Karen, got involved.
A happy couple | Source: Midjourney
“I’m going to surprise Mom for our anniversary,” I told Jack when we were kicking a ball around outside one afternoon.
“Just don’t decide on having another kid,” Jack said, giggling as he spoke.
Well, I didn’t plan on that, but I did want to surprise Steph with a romantic weekend getaway to celebrate our anniversary.
A father and son playing with a ball | Source: Midjourney
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I hired an event planner to hold down the fort.
“Catherine,” I told her when I sat across from her in her office. “I need this weekend to be perfect. I know that it’s small scale compared to the events you plan, but I need it to be perfect for Steph. She deserves this.”
Catherine beamed, and I thought she actually looked quite beautiful. Not as beautiful as my wife, but lovely nonetheless.
A smiling woman sitting at her desk | Source: Midjourney
She was great to work with too. She was professional, attentive, and yes, attractive.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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