My Husband Traded Our Family for His Mistress—Three Years Later, Karma Caught Up
I gripped my phone, my heart hammering in my chest as I stared across the street. There they were.
Stan and Miranda.
But they weren’t the flawless, smug couple who had ruined my life three years ago. Oh no. They looked… miserable.
Miranda’s designer heels clicked angrily on the pavement as she stormed ahead, her face twisted in frustration. She threw her hands up while shouting something at Stan. Stan—once so put-together—looked exhausted, his shirt wrinkled, his hair thinning. He was chasing after her, his posture slumped like a man who had long since lost control.
I couldn’t help myself—I smiled.
I pressed my phone to my ear. “Mom, you won’t believe this.”
She gasped. “Tell me everything.”
I crossed the street slowly, taking my time, savoring the moment. I stopped just a few feet away from them, pretending to adjust my grocery bags.
That’s when I heard it.
“YOU SAID YOU’D TAKE CARE OF ME!” Miranda snapped, jabbing a manicured finger into his chest. “YOU SAID I WOULDN’T HAVE TO WORK!”
Stan ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I lost my job, Miranda! The economy—”
She scoffed. “Oh, please! Excuses, excuses! I should have listened when they said men who cheat never change!“
Oh.
OH.
I almost laughed out loud.
Karma had done her thing spectacularly.
I cleared my throat. They both turned—and their faces were priceless.
Stan’s eyes widened in shock. Miranda’s jaw dropped.
“Lauren?” Stan croaked.
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, don’t mind me. Just grabbing some groceries… with the money I earned myself.”
Miranda folded her arms, sneering, but there was a flicker of panic in her eyes. “Well, isn’t this awkward.”
“Not for me,” I said lightly. “I’ve never been better.” And it was true. I looked good, I felt good, and most importantly—I was free.
Stan swallowed hard. “How are the kids?”
I tilted my head. “You mean the ones you abandoned? The ones who don’t even ask about you anymore?”
He flinched.
Miranda made a disgusted sound. “Oh, God, I am NOT dealing with your ex-wife and your emotional baggage right now.” She spun on her heel. “I’ll be at my mother’s. Figure your mess out, Stan.”
And just like that—she left.
Stan just stood there, defeated. Alone.
And me?
I turned on my heel, flipped my hair, and walked away—back to my real family.
That moment? It was perfectly, gloriously satisfying.