My Husband Mocked Me For Being “Naive” While Having An Affair In My Own Garden. He Didn’t Realize I Was Listening From The Shadows. Should I Tell Him About The “Gift” I Left In His Underwear Before The Party?

A Cold Determination

That sentence was like the final hammer blow that shattered the last shred of illusion I had left. Good? Naive? It turns out that in his eyes, my love and trust were nothing more than stupidity.

The last hot tear rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away angrily, not allowing myself to be weak for another second. Enough was enough. Truly enough.

I turned and walked silently into the kitchen, making no sound. The pain had transformed into a cold determination. You made me a laughingstock; you trampled on my love and my sacrifice. Fine. I won’t scream, I won’t make a scene. I will give you a gift so irritating that you will remember it forever.

My trembling hands grabbed the bottle of itching powder. I glanced out at the garden and saw their underwear still scattered on the lawn. A bitter but calculating smile played on my lips. For the play that was about to unfold, I needed not just an audience, but the most impartial judges: our families.

You have desecrated my garden, so I will turn this very house into the stage to unmask your hypocrisy before the entire clan.

I don’t know how long I stood motionless in the kitchen. The bottle of itching powder sat on the counter, its bright color seeming to mock my pain. In the garden, Ethan and Chloe’s voices had fallen silent. They had surely gone their separate ways, leaving me to clean up the battlefield of their betrayal.

Slowly, I sank to the cold kitchen floor, leaning my back against a cabinet. The initial shock wore off, leaving a numbing ache. It spread from my chest throughout my body, making me tremble violently. The tears I had tried to hold back now flowed uncontrollably.

I wasn’t sobbing loudly, just silent, hot, bitter tears rolling down my cheeks. What did I do wrong? That question echoed in my head. What had I done to deserve such cruel treatment?

The memories of five years of marriage flashed through my mind like a slow-motion film, sharp in every detail. I remembered the day Ethan proposed. He knelt under the candlelight in a fancy restaurant, a diamond ring in his hand, his eyes full of love. He said:

“Olivia, marry me. I can’t promise you the most luxurious life, but I promise I will spend the rest of my life loving and protecting you.”

I believed that promise. I believed it blindly. I thought I was the happiest woman in the world when I said yes.

After we married, I fulfilled my duties as a wife. When Ethan started his business, the company went through many difficulties. It was I who, without hesitation, withdrew all my savings and the money my parents gave me, even selling my most valuable jewelry to give him the capital.

He held me, his voice choked with emotion:

“Thank you, my love. I swear I won’t let you down.”

Then, when his company began to stabilize, he said he needed a wife to manage the household, a solid homefront so he could fully dedicate himself to his career. Once again, I didn’t hesitate to resign from my position as a lead designer, a job I had fought for for many years.

I agreed to stay at home within four walls with endless chores. My friends said I was a fool, that I was sacrificing too much. But I just smiled. I thought my husband’s happiness was my own.

I was overjoyed when I saw Ethan succeed, when his work was going better and better. I was so proud when I heard people praise his talent, saying he had a competent wife behind him.

I took care of his parents when they were sick as if they were my own. His mother loved my homemade apple pie; I didn’t mind the heat, I would go to every farmer’s market to find the best organic ingredients to bake it for her. His father was a collector of rare bourbons; I spent time researching, learning, and buying him valuable bottles to make him happy.

I did all of that without a single complaint, hoping only for a little respect, a little love. But what did I receive today in return? The disgusting scene in my own garden. His dismissive words: “My wife is so good, so naive”.

The more I thought, the more my heart twisted, the pain turning into outrage. I was too stupid, too blind. I had become an unpaid maid, an ATM, and nothing more.

And Chloe, that girl. I treated her so well. I saw she was lonely and struggling, and I treated her like a little sister. I lent her money when she said her family had an emergency. I introduced her to a few minor work contacts. I even comforted her when I saw her looking sad.

And she repaid me by sleeping with my husband in my own house. The shamelessness and lack of morals of those two people made me sick.

I couldn’t just sit here and cry. Crying solves nothing. My tears are not worth shedding for people who are not worth it. They have looked down on me; they have trampled on my love and my sacrifice.

Fine. I will show them just how fearsome this “good, naive” woman can become when cornered. I wiped my tears forcefully. The weakness vanished, replaced by a sharp gaze and a steely determination.

I got up, went to the dining table, and poured myself a glass of water. I drank it in one gulp, the coldness helping to calm me down. I looked again at the bottle of itching powder on the counter.

The initial idea was just an impulsive reaction, but now it had become a meticulously calculated plan. Sprinkling the powder wasn’t enough; that would only be the appetizer. I needed a more substantial main course, a bigger stage for everyone to admire the true faces of those two liars.

Family, friends, colleagues, and especially our parents. I wanted them to pay a heavy price—not just physical pain, but also humiliation and disgrace. They had made me a fool in the dark; fine, I will drag them into the light for the whole world to see their filth.

I picked up my phone, opened my contacts, and my fingers slid down the list until they stopped on a name: Mother-in-law. Another icy smile appeared on my lips. My play would begin with this woman. I would turn the one who was always so proud of her golden boy into the first person to pull back the curtain on his disgusting secret.