I’d miss David, my husband of five years, but we’d been through this before. We had our routine down pat: daily phone calls, weekly video chats, and the occasional surprise care package.

The first two months flew by in a whirlwind of blueprints, contractor meetings, and site inspections. I’d call David every night, usually while I was getting ready for bed in my sterile hotel room.

“How’s the house holding up without me?” I’d ask, imagining him lounging on our worn leather couch, probably surrounded by takeout containers.

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“Empty,” he’d reply with a dramatic sigh. “I swear, Maya, this place is like a tomb without you. I can’t wait till you’re back.”

His words always made me smile, even on the toughest days. But as the project neared its end, something changed. David’s calls became shorter, and his responses were more distracted.

“Sorry, babe, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now,” he’d say and cut our calls short.

I chalked it up to him being busy with work or maybe planning some grand surprise for my return. I tried to push down the nagging feeling in my gut to focus instead on wrapping up the project.

Boy, was I in for a surprise.

It was a Tuesday afternoon when my phone buzzed with an incoming call from Mrs. Johnson, our next-door neighbor. My first thought was that something had happened to David.

“Maya, dear,” Mrs. Johnson’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I hope I’m not bothering you, but there’s something you should know.”

My heart rate picked up. “What is it, Mrs. Johnson? Is David okay?”

“Oh, he’s fine, dear. It’s just… well, there’s been a woman staying at your house. For about two weeks now.”

“A woman?” I repeated and gulped.

“Yes, dear. I’ve seen her coming and going. And… I’ve seen her with David.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, feeling almost breathless.

“I’m afraid so, dear. I thought you should know.”

I thanked her mechanically and ended the call. A woman. In our house. With David. How could he? I felt numb for a while later until my body simply snapped me out of it.

Before I knew it, I was on my laptop, booking the first available flight home. I didn’t bother calling David. What would I say? “Hey, honey, just checking if you’re sleeping with someone in our bed?” No, this required a face-to-face confrontation.

The flight was a blur. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw David with some faceless woman, laughing at how stupid I’d been. But by the time the plane touched down, I had a plan. I would get my revenge. I’d catch them in the act, armed with irrefutable evidence. Then I’d make them pay.

I took a cab home, made a little detour to get what I needed for my payback, and then, gave my driver my home address. It wasn’t long before we reached the familiar streets of our neighborhood. It was almost midnight and dark and quiet, something that usually brought me peace. But not tonight.

When I slipped my key into the lock, I prayed the door wouldn’t creak. My house was eerily quiet, and I made my way upstairs. I thanked the stupid rug David had wanted because it muffled my footsteps.

I heard the sound of soft snoring as I approached my bedroom, and it was clear two people were in there. My blood boiled.

I pushed the door open just as quietly and saw two figures huddled under my expensive duvet. I could make out David’s familiar shape, and next to him, a smaller figure with long hair splayed across my pillow.

I reached into my bag and pulled out a bucket of bright blue paint I’d bought at my detour to a 24-hour hardware store. Without a second thought, I upended it over the bed.

The reaction was instantaneous. Screams filled the air as my husband and his mistress jolted awake, sputtering and flailing with my duvet. Then, I flicked on the light, ready to show them my full rage. I would make the biggest scene of my life. Except…

The faces staring back at me weren’t David and some homewrecker. They were strangers.

“Who the hell are you?” I shouted and stepped back, reeling from the rush of adrenaline.

The woman, a petite blonde with wide, terrified eyes, clutched the paint-soaked duvet to her chest. “We’re Rosaline and Ben! We live here! Who are you?”

My mind went blank. “Live here? But this is my house!”

“Are you David’s wife?” the man, Ben, asked me.

“Yes,” I answered.

“We’re renting this house from him,” he continued and stood. “I’ll give him a call.”

I watched him reach for his phone and call my husband, who was apparently… their landlord.

***

A few minutes later, I was waiting with the two strangers in my living for David to arrive. I heard the key jingling in the lock, and my husband walked in shortly.

“Maya?” he said, confused. “What’s going on here? Why are you here so early?”

I stood quietly, embarrassed by this entire situation but also angry.

David’s eyes darted from me to the paint-covered couple sitting on our couch, and his eyes bulged. “Oh my God,” he stammered. “Maya, what have you done?”

“I thought…” I began, but my voice trailed off as the reality of the situation sunk in. “I thought you were…”

“Cheating on you?” David finished, offended. “Maya, how could you think that?”

“Mrs. Johnson called…” I explained, rushing through my words. “She said a woman was living here… with you.”

My husband ran a hand through his hair and out a long sigh. “Oh, Maya. These are the people renting out home.”

“What do you mean renting? Why?” I asked.

David shook his head. “I decided to rent this place for a little while and moved in with my parents. I wanted to surprise you with a big anniversary gift, but I’ve been struggling at work lately. This was the only way I could afford it.”

Jesus. There was no other woman. No betrayal. Just my husband, trying to do something nice for me in his own misguided way.

I turned back to Rosaline and Ben, who looked tired but only slightly amused. “I am so, so sorry,” I stammered. “I thought… I mean, I didn’t know…”

Rosaline managed a weak smile and stood from the couch. “It’s okay. We understand. Though we might need to talk about replacing the bedding, and we should clean up.”

“Of course, and we’ll help and pay for anything that might have gotten damaged,” David added, and the couple nodded at him.

We put the duvet in plastic bags and cleaned what we could. When we finally left our house to let the tenants sleep for the rest of the night, the absurdity of the situation hit me. I started laughing, then crying, then both at once.

David wrapped his arms around me, and I let myself melt into his embrace. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he murmured into my hair. “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

I pulled back to look at him, seeing the love and worry in his eyes. “Next time, maybe just stick to flowers and chocolates?”

He chuckled and wiped a tear from my cheek. “Deal.”

***

Back at David’s parents’ house, we went to bed in his old childhood bedroom. But although we were both tired to the bone, we couldn’t fall asleep.

“I can’t believe you thought I was cheating,” he said softly, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

I sighed, leaning my head on his shoulder. “I can’t believe I didn’t trust you enough to just ask. I’m sorry, babe.”

He kissed the top of my head. “We both messed up. But hey, at least we’ll have one hell of a story to tell at parties.”

I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in weeks. “True. Though maybe we should wait a while before hosting any gatherings. I think we’ve had enough surprises for now.”

We went silent for a while, just listening to the sound of our breathing. I was almost falling asleep, but something nagged at me.

“So,” I said. “What was this anniversary gift that required renting out our house?”

I felt David grin sleepily. “Well, I was planning on surprising you with a trip to Paris. You’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower, right?”

“Oh, wow, babe,” I said and yawned heavily. “That’s incredible. But you know I would’ve been happy with just spending time with you, right?”

“I know. But you work so hard,” he countered. “And I’ve missed. We deserve something special.”

“We do,” I agreed, and then, I fell asleep.

A few hours later, we talked some more and promised each other to always communicate first. We were partners, after all. So, Paris became our joint plan for our anniversary. We will make it happen soon.

Right after I talked with Mrs. Johnson. After all, she almost ruined our marriage or worse… got me sued by the tenants I had no idea I had.