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?

The Irritating Gift

When the living room lights dimmed, all attention focused on the large screen. The once noisy atmosphere fell into a deathly silence, broken only by the soft background music Tristan had cleverly added.

Ethan and Chloe also watched with curiosity. Perhaps they thought it was a montage of happy family photos, a surprise gift I had prepared. They couldn’t imagine how bitter that gift would be. But the video didn’t start right away; instead, a large red text appeared on a black background: DEDICATED TO THE LIARS.

People began to whisper, not understanding what was happening. Ethan frowned and turned to me with a questioning look. I just smiled mysteriously and gestured for him to keep watching.

And then the first image appeared. It wasn’t a happy picture but a blurry photo taken from a distance, yet clear enough to recognize two figures kissing passionately in a garden. It was the photo I had taken from the coffee shop capturing Ethan and Chloe’s moment in my own backyard.

A murmur of astonishment swept through the room. Everyone started looking at Ethan and Chloe, and the curious glances turned to suspicion. Ethan froze, his face as white as a sheet. Chloe was also horrified; she quickly bowed her head, not daring to look at anyone.

My mother-in-law’s face grew stern. “Tristan, what is this nonsense you’re playing? Turn it off right now!”

But Tristan didn’t turn it off. He shrugged, looking innocent. “I don’t know, Auntie. I guess I grabbed the wrong USB drive.”

The video continued. This time, a series of much clearer images: Ethan and Chloe holding hands in a park, Ethan feeding Chloe in a fancy restaurant, and the finale, the two of them entering a hotel together. Every photo that appeared was a stab at their charade.

The whispers in the room grew louder. Chloe’s parents, sitting in a corner, were pale. They couldn’t believe their good, obedient daughter would do such things. My father-in-law was trembling with rage, glaring at Ethan as if he wanted to devour him.

But that wasn’t all. The screen changed to show the $100,000 investment contract with Ethan and Chloe’s signatures. Then, the home equity loan documents with my forged signature.

Tristan, as the narrator, spoke with a clear, firm voice:

“Dear aunts and uncles, this is proof that Ethan has not only been unfaithful but has also defrauded his wife, forging her signature and mortgaging their home without her consent to give the money to his mistress to open a luxury boutique.”

At that moment, everything became crystal clear. No one could doubt it. Ethan’s entire family, who moments before had been proud and happy, now sat in embarrassed silence, not knowing where to look.

But while all the attention was on the screen, another tragicomedy had begun to unfold quietly: the itching from the powder began to take effect. At first, both Ethan and Chloe only felt a slight tingling in their private areas. They thought it was the wine making them feel warm, but the sensation grew increasingly intense.

It wasn’t just a tingle; it was a maddening itch as if thousands of ants were crawling on their skin. Ethan, who was sitting paralyzed with shame, suddenly flinched. He began to shift restlessly in his chair, unnaturally opening and closing his legs. As sweat beaded on his forehead, he tried to stay calm, but he couldn’t. Every so often, he had to discreetly lower his hand under the table to scratch himself quickly.

Chloe was even worse off. She was wearing a thin, tight dress, and the itching made it impossible for her to sit still. She kept squirming, getting up and sitting down, her beautiful face contorted with discomfort. She deliberately dropped her purse so she could bend down and subtly scratch herself, but that only made things worse.

Some relatives sitting nearby began to notice their strange movements. An aunt whispered to my mother-in-law:

“What’s wrong with that girl Chloe? She looks like she has ants in her pants.”

My mother-in-law, overwhelmed with shame at that moment, paid no attention and just brushed it off. “Leave her be.”

The itching became unbearable. It was like a fire burning them from the inside. Ethan could no longer maintain his composure. He began to scratch more openly, his face red and his breathing ragged.

Chloe was on the verge of tears. She was scratching her thighs through the thin fabric of her dress, leaving red marks.

“I… Excuse me, I need to use the restroom,” Chloe mumbled and practically fled the living room.

Ethan, seeing her, couldn’t hold on any longer either. He jumped up and said to everyone:

“I… I’m not feeling well either. Excuse me.”

And he quickly headed towards the bathroom.

The two protagonists of the infidelity drama had temporarily left the stage, unaware that another even more humiliating act awaited them. The living room was still in shock from the evidence. People began to criticize Ethan and pity me.

My mother-in-law sat like a statue, her face drained of all color. She never imagined that in a single night all her pride would crumble. But I knew the best was yet to come. My irritating gift was just beginning to take effect.

I wondered if they would find a way to put out that fire or if they would create an even more appalling scene together. The sudden disappearance of Ethan and Chloe made the atmosphere in the living room even stranger.

After the initial shock of the evidence of infidelity, people began to whisper and comment on the inexplicable actions of the two culprits.

“Looks like they broke out in a rash or something,” an uncle said.

“It’s surely divine punishment for their sins,” added the gossipy aunt, her voice gleeful.

I, sitting in a corner, calmly sipped my tea, smiling to myself. Divine punishment? No, this was a punishment orchestrated by my own hand.

My mother-in-law, after a moment of stupor, finally reacted. Shame quickly turned to anger. She turned to me, her eyes spitting fire.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You arranged all of this to humiliate my son, to destroy this family!”

I put down my teacup and looked her directly in the eye, my voice calm.

“What are you talking about, Mom? I just showed everyone the truth. If your son did those things, why are you blaming me?”

“You… all you…” my mother-in-law choked on her rage, unable to speak.

My father-in-law remained silent, his face grim. He took long drags from his cigarette; the dense white smoke enveloped the atmosphere. He was probably as angry with his son as he was embarrassed in front of the family.

Just then, I decided it was time to add more fuel to the fire. I stood up and approached Chloe’s parents, who were still huddled in a corner, pale with shame and pain. I placed a hand on Chloe’s mother’s shoulder, my voice compassionate.

“Ma’am, don’t be distressed. What’s done is done. We must remain calm. Perhaps Chloe is young and immature. Why don’t you and I go see how she is, talk to her a bit?”

I said this deliberately loud so everyone could hear me.

Chloe’s parents, though embarrassed, couldn’t refuse. They just nodded, tears in their eyes.

“Excuse me for a moment, aunts, uncles, cousins. I’ll accompany them to see what’s wrong with the kids,” I said to the guests and helped Chloe’s mother to her feet.

Several curious aunts also stood up to follow us. “We’ll go with you. Let’s see what’s happening. This needs to be cleared up.”

My mother-in-law, seeing this, couldn’t sit still. She also got up with difficulty and followed us, her face filled with fury. Thus, a procession led by me headed towards the bathroom at the end of the hall where I knew Ethan and Chloe were.

The closer we got, the more we heard strange sounds coming from inside: the sound of running water, moans, and slapping sounds.

“Help me! Help me! It burns! It itches!” Chloe screamed desperately, mixed with Ethan’s curses.

“Damn it, what the hell is this? Why does it itch so much?”

All of us outside were stunned, not understanding what was happening. Chloe’s parents were even paler, probably imagining even more terrible scenes. I feigned concern and knocked on the door.

“Chloe? Ethan? Are you okay? Open the door!”

There was no response from inside, only the cries grew more desperate.

“This isn’t right. Something must have happened. We have to break down the door,” I said in an alarmed voice.

Without waiting for anyone to react, Tristan, Ethan’s cousin whom I had already instructed, lunged forward and kicked the door with all his might. Bam! The wooden door burst open.

And then an incredible scene, at once tragic, comical, and humiliating, was revealed to everyone. The procession of people stood frozen, mouths agape and eyes wide.

Inside the bathroom, Ethan and Chloe were in a deplorable state. They had taken off most of their clothes, barely covering themselves with the last remaining garments. Both were under the shower, cold water pouring over them, but apparently unable to calm the fire consuming them.

Their skin was red and covered in rashes. They were screaming and frantically scratching all over their bodies.

“Ah! I’m dying from the itch! What is this?” Chloe cried as she scratched her soaked hair stuck to her face, looking like a ghost.

Ethan was even worse off. He was scratching and jumping like a shrimp on a hot pan. He was even using the toilet brush to scrub his back. The people watching from outside couldn’t say a word. Some covered their mouths in shock, others turned away unable to watch, and some couldn’t help but let out a snicker.

Chloe’s parents collapsed to the floor crying silently. They had raised and educated a daughter only to witness her today in such a disheveled, shameless, and humiliating state. My mother-in-law could only stand there pointing at them, trembling, unable to speak. Anger, shame, bewilderment all mixed together, making her look on the verge of a collapse.

And I, the director of this play, simply watched from behind, a faint smile on my lips. My irritating gift had turned out to be more effective than I imagined. It not only caused them physical pain, but it stripped them bare in the most humiliating way possible. The play was not over yet.