Our return flight was scheduled to land around noon. Upon landing, I called Tom to coordinate our ride home. He explained he’d arrived earlier due to a booking mix-up and offered to pick us up. However, when we landed, he was nowhere to be found. His explanation over the phone shattered my patience: “Hi babe, I ran into my old friend Mike. We decided to catch up for a few hours.”I reluctantly agreed, assuming it’d be brief.
But after two hours passed with no sign of him, and repeated calls going unanswered, I began to panic. When he finally answered, he was still with Mike, dismissively telling me to manage on my own. Frustrated and overwhelmed, I packed our things, wrangled our kids and luggage alone, and made it home utterly exhausted. Tom sauntered in hours later, oblivious to the chaos he’d left me to handle. This wasn’t the first time he’d done this, but it was the final straw. Determined to make him understand, I plotted my revenge. The opportunity arose the following weekend when he planned a poker night. I ensured everything was set up perfectly, then casually left him to manage alone, just as he had left me. Hours later, amidst frantic texts, I leisurely returned to find chaos—snacks scattered, kids running wild, and Tom frazzled and overwhelmed.
