My Fiancé Cheated On Me, So I Teamed up with His Lover’s Husband for Ultimate Revenge — Story of the Day

I sat on the couch, staring blankly at the wedding magazines spread across the coffee table. Just last week, Mark and I had been discussing venues and honeymoon destinations. Everything was supposed to be perfect. Supposed to be. But then, something shifted.

“Spain again?” I had asked Mark when he casually mentioned his upcoming trip. “Didn’t you just get back?”

He shrugged, not meeting my eyes. “Work, babe. You know how it is.”

That evening, he flew off on his business trip, and I was left behind, bored out of my mind. I’d already done everything possible to keep myself busy.

Before, during these trips, we’d talk on the phone five or six times a day. But the phone calls became shorter and less frequent. Lately, I’d just been staring at my phone, willing it to ring.

That evening, as I was cleaning out my inbox, I found the hotel reservation for two. At first, I laughed, thinking maybe Mark had accidentally used our vacation plans when booking his hotel in Spain.

But my heart sank as I scrolled through the details. Champagne and strawberries. I had an allergy to strawberries!

What does it mean? He isn’t alone in Spain! He is with someone else. Maybe right now, SHE’s eating those strawberries!

“No, this can’t be right,” I whispered, pacing back and forth, gripping my phone tightly.

The email felt like a hot coal burning in my hand. Deep down, I knew. The pit in my stomach grew heavier. I grabbed my phone and called Claire, my best friend.

“You need to breathe,” she said, but her tone was anything but calm.

“I have to go to Spain, Claire. I have to see for myself,” I said, my voice shaking.

“You hate flying,” she reminded me.

“Watching my life fall apart from here is worse,” I replied, my fingers already booking the next flight.

***

The flight to Spain was a nightmare from the start. My seat was cramped, the air felt stuffy, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning with every possible scenario.

What if Mark is truly sorry? What if he will beg me to forgive him? Or worse, what if he doesn’t care at all?

I stared out the window, trying to distract myself, when suddenly, a cold splash hit my lap. I looked down to see tomato juice soaking into my jeans. Perfect. Just what I needed.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The man next to me, wide-eyed and horrified, started fumbling with napkins. “I swear, I didn’t mean to… I’m just… I’m just really clumsy.”

“It’s fine,” I muttered, dabbing at the red stain.

Of course, such things happen. Could anything else go wrong today?

“Let me make it up to you. How about I buy us a drink? I mean, unless you want to sit in awkward silence for the rest of the flight with juice all over your lap.”

I couldn’t help but laugh despite everything. “Sure, why not? A drink could save the day.”

“I’m Daniel, by the way,” he said, offering his hand with a grin. “And I promise, I’m usually better with tomato juice.”

“Rebecca. And don’t worry, it’s not the worst thing to happen today.”

“Oh? Well, now I’m curious.”

I sighed, taking a sip of my drink.

“I’m on my way to Spain to confront my fiancé. He’s… probably cheating on me.”

“Yikes. That’s… rough.”

“Yeah. I found a hotel reservation for two. Champagne, dinner… you know, the works.”

“Ouch,” Daniel winced, shaking his head. “And here I thought spilling juice on you was bad.”

“Honestly, it kind of fits the day I’ve been having.”

Daniel leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. “Well, get this. I’m flying to Spain to see my wife. Who, surprise, might also be cheating on me.”

I blinked, stunned for a second, before bursting into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

“I wish I was. But I’m not. It’s like some kind of messed-up cosmic joke, isn’t it? Two betrayed souls stuck on the same flight.”

“What are the odds of us sitting next to each other?”

“Pretty slim, I’d say,” Daniel replied, raising his glass with cola. “To bad luck and strange coincidences?”

I clinked my glass against his. “And to being covered in tomato juice.”

***

By the time we landed, the tomato juice incident was a distant memory. We both had bigger things on our minds. As we grabbed our bags and headed for the exit, Daniel turned to me.

“So… where are you staying?”

“It’s here.” I opened the GPS on my phone.

“Me too.”

I laughed again, shaking my head. “Of course you are. What’s next? We’re assigned the same room?”

As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. The hotel had overbooked, and the frazzled desk clerk apologized profusely, offering us a shared room.

I was too exhausted to argue, and honestly, too curious about what would happen next. We both stood there in stunned silence for a moment.

“Well, I guess it’s just another chapter in this weird story.”

Daniel smirked. “Looks like fate wants us to be roommates.”

We agreed to share the space. What were the odds? Two strangers, both betrayed, stuck together in a foreign country. It was absurd. But so was everything else about that day.

***

We settled into the room, both of us giving each other space. It was an odd situation. After some awkward silence, we decided to have lunch on the balcony.

I was picking at my salad when something caught my eye. I froze, my fork hovering mid-air. There, lounging by the pool, was Mark. But he wasn’t alone.

He was swimming too comfortably with a woman. And they looked… close. Way too close. In panic, I quickly ducked behind the balcony railing.

“That’s him,” I whispered, pointing shakily at the couple. “That’s Mark… with her.”

I expected Daniel to say something, maybe a word of comfort. Instead, I noticed him tense up beside me. Without saying a word, he dropped down next to me on the balcony floor. He peered through the railing.

“That’s… my wife. Brenda.”

We both crouched there, our faces inches apart, staring through the slats of the railing like two kids spying on the neighbors. His wife. My fiancé. Together.

I turned to Daniel. “They’re cheating on us… with each other.”

“This is like a bad sitcom.”

I raised my hand to shush him as we strained to hear their conversation. Brenda’s voice floated up, calm and collected like she was talking about the weather.

She was telling Mark her plan to divorce Daniel and live off the money she’d get from him. Mark, to my horror, was encouraging her, saying how great it would be.

I chuckled. “Are you… rich?”

“Not rich enough for her.” He let out a bitter laugh.

We sat there for a moment, absorbing the insanity of the situation. Then, Daniel’s face lit up with an idea.

“Why don’t we give them a taste of their own medicine?”

“What do you mean?”

His kind of grin suggested nothing good was about to happen.

“Let’s pretend we’re madly in love. Make a scene. We know where they’ll be having dinner tonight. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

My brain was struggling to keep up with the absurdity of the suggestion.

“That’s… ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” Daniel said. “It’s the perfect kind of ridiculous.”

It was childish, absurd, and completely out of character for me. But it was exactly what I needed.

For the next few hours, we plotted. Surprisingly, Daniel had a sharp sense of style. At one point, he looked at my wardrobe and groaned.

“You dress like a grandma at 40,” he teased.

“Excuse me?” I laughed. “I thought you liked this sophisticated, mature look.”

Then, out of nowhere, he pulled out a stunning red dress from his suitcase.

“I bought this for Brenda,” he said with a smirk, holding it up. “But I’m pretty sure it’ll look way better on you.”

I stared at the dress, then back at him, and burst out laughing. That was about to get very interesting.

***

That evening, we stepped out of the taxi, and for the first time in days, I felt… powerful. Daniel, dressed in a sharp suit, looked like he belonged on the cover of a magazine, and I…

Well, that red dress did things I never thought possible. I almost didn’t recognize myself.

“You ready?” Daniel asked, offering me his arm with a playful smirk.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, slipping my arm through his.

We walked into the restaurant like we owned the place. The moment we passed Mark and Brenda’s table, I could feel their eyes on us.