As their usual Sunday routine — Kristen and Gary spend their morning doing chores at home before heading to the grocery store to plan for the week. But when Gary gets a phone call from his friends, he bolts — leaving Kristen to fork up the $650 bill and find her own way home. Who is more important to Gary, and what can Kristen do to teach him a lesson?
For as long as I’ve been married to Gary, we have had a set Sunday routine. We wake up, have brunch and then hit the grocery store. It’s been this way for the past two years — it’s how the system runs smoothly.
Two plates of food on a table | Source: Unsplash
So, it’s a Sunday morning. I make us brunch while Gary sorts out the outside — mowing the lawn and so on.
“Are you ready?” Gary asked, as he came into the kitchen fresh from a shower.
“Yes,” I said. “Don’t forget to take the shopping bags.”
A lawn mower outside | Source: Unsplash
We get to the store, and my husband and I have a ball of a time. We walk the grocery store per aisle, making sure that we got everything we needed — and then some. We were both foodies, so cooking together was our love language.
Until Gary’s phone rang, and I saw a different side to my husband.
A shopping cart in a grocery store | Source: Unsplash
We were just about to start unloading our cart at the checkout when Gary’s phone erupted with a loud ring.
“Sorry, Kristen, but I’ve got to take this,” he muttered, stepping aside to answer. “You can start checking out, though.”
So I began to unload all of our groceries — the meat, the veggies, the fruit, not to mention the junk food and drinks that we had stocked up on, too.
Moments later, Gary returned, looking both agitated and excited.
A man using his phone | Source: Pexels
“Listen, I have to run,” he said, glancing at the groceries as the checkout guy went about scanning them.
“Where do you have to go?” I asked.
“The guys are waiting for me. We’re going to have some beers, barbecue, and watch the game together,” he said.
Gary put his hands in his pocket, and looked toward the exit.
A person holding beer with firewood in the background | Source: Pexels
I thought that he was waiting for us to finish at the grocery store, then drop me off at home before taking off to his friends.
“I’ll see you later,” he said.
“What? Now?” I asked, puzzled. “But we’re about to check out!”
“I know, I know,” he said hurriedly, swinging the car keys. “But I can’t miss this, Kristen! It’s a big deal, you know that the guys and I barely hang out.”
A man holding car keys | Source: Unsplash
“How am I supposed to get all of this sorted out and get home? You’re getting a cab?” I protested, my eyes darting between Gary and the growing line behind us.
“What? No! I’m taking the car. But I’ll call you a cab!”
He hastily began to place items on the conveyor belt.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ve got to dash!”
And with that, he was gone.
A man walking away | Source: Pexels
“Do you need help with these?” the checkout guy asked. “We have people to help with these things.”
I nodded. I couldn’t believe that Gary had actually left me at a grocery store, just to go and drink with his friends.
“That will be $650, ma’am.”
A cashier at check out | Source: Unsplash
Of course, Gary had left without leaving any cash behind. It wasn’t that I relied on him for money — it’s just that we usually did this type of thing together. And $650 wasn’t what I had expected our grocery trip to come to.
I paid and wheeled the heavy cart outside. I stood looking at the parking lot, hoping that by some miracle, Gary would still be there.
That he would be waiting for me.
An upset woman looking down | Source: Unsplash
That he would have finally realized that he was wrong to leave me for an insignificant moment with his friends.
I deserved better.
After a few minutes, a cab drove by. The driver got out and helped me pack all of our groceries into the trunk, and we took off for my home.
A yellow cab | Source: Unsplash
The more I thought about it, the angrier I got with Gary.
What on earth could have possessed him to leave me alone? I felt hurt and disrespected. I hated everything about the way I felt. My husband had never made me feel this way before.
I got home and unloaded all of the groceries. I was in a foul mood by then. So, I made a cup of tea and took it to my bubble bath. I needed to relax before thinking about how to get back at Gary.
A cat among grocery bags | Source: Unsplash
As I was sitting in my bath, sniffing the calming scent of lavender, I decided that I would cook myself a fancy dinner with all the ingredients I had bought.
“Two can play at this game,” I thought, shuffling around the house in my socks and pajamas.
I put on some music and I began to cook — I prepared an elaborate feast, grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, couscous, and the works. All of our favorites.
A bubble bath with tea and a book | Source: Pexels
The kitchen smelled heavenly, and I was in the zone. While waiting for the oven, I set the table meticulously for one — my resolve hardening.
If there was one thing I knew about my husband — he would always check my social media, especially when he was away from me.
So, I took photos while I cooked, and posted them on my socials.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
My stories were always perfectly captured, and I usually shared my cooking online. Shortly after I posted every story, Gary would ‘like’ it — and every time he did that, I knew that my plan was working.
Sure enough, my husband would be with his friends — drinking and snacking and watching whatever game they said they were going to. But Gary wouldn’t eat there, not when he knew that I was cooking at home.
For good measure, I sent him a photo of my plate saying:
Dinner is fantastic tonight, wish you were here! xx
A person taking a photo of food | Source: Pexels
Later that night, Gary returned to a clean kitchen without leftovers. I was lounging comfortably with a glass of wine and a book — the evidence of my solo feast neatly packed away at the back of the fridge.
“Hey,” he began uncertainly, after he walked in and out of the pristine kitchen. “The house smells incredible. Did you save me some dinner?”
A glass of wine on a table | Source: Pexels
I shook my head, a slight smile playing on my lips.
“Actually, no,” I said. “But you missed a great meal. Everything was so fresh!”
Gary’s face fell as he glanced around to the dining table, as if hoping that there would be a plate of dinner for him.
“I didn’t have dinner,” he admitted.
“Oh? Why not?” I asked, crossing my legs.
A man sitting and covering his eyes | Source: Unsplash
“Because I saw your stories and I thought that there would be dinner for me, too,” he said.
I remained silent. My husband knew exactly what he had done wrong. I just needed him to admit it.
“Kristen,” he said. “I’m sorry I left you at the store like that. It was a last-minute thing with the guys and I didn’t know what else to do. I wanted to be with them, I guess. And I knew that you could handle it.”
Gary walked to the fridge and returned with a beer. He opened his mouth to start talking again.
I raised a hand, stopping him mid-excuse.
A cold beer bottle | Source: Unsplash
“Gary, when you choose your friends over me, it’s more than just leaving me to handle the bills or whatever. It’s way more than that. You left me behind so that you could drink beer. You made me feel second to a barbecue. Today, I wanted you to experience coming home expecting a warm meal and finding nothing.”
“You did this on purpose?” he asked, shocked.
“It’s not just about food,” I continued. “It’s about the people you prioritize.”
A woman sitting on a couch | Source: Pexels
“I never looked at it that way,” he said. “I’m really sorry.”
Our conversation that night was long and honest — Gary needed to be reminded of the fact that we were a team and that we did everything together regarding our home. But it turns out that I also needed to be reminded that we could have our lives, too.
“Get out sometimes,” he said. “Go out with your friends, and leave me to take over the house. You’re allowed to escape the routine, too.”
A group of friends having a picnic together | Source: Pexels
When we went to bed that evening, I felt bad. I had never denied my husband food before, but there was a lesson to be learnt here.
Gary needed to know that he couldn’t leave me stranded in a grocery store without a car. Or without offering to help. Beer and barbecue did not qualify as an emergency.
“You’re right,” he said as he brushed his teeth. “I need to get my priorities straight.”
I’m not sure if Gary learned his lesson, but I do think that making him buttered toast and tea for dinner was a step in the right direction.
Buttered toast with jam | Source: Unsplash
Following his purchase of a dinner for over $600 I blocked him but it turned out he was trying to warn me
Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.
I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.
During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.
I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.
However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.
David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.
David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.
Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.
But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.
My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.
Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.
Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?
I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.
I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.
But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.
Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.
When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”
I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.
I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.
The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.
My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.
In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.
Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.
Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?
In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.
He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.
He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.
We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.
“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”
And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.
Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.
During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”
Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.
Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”
“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.
But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.
I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.
“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy waited for me to finish getting ready before showing up with a bunch of roses. This was an exception to the rule that he disliked it when I took longer to get dressed than when he arrived.
“Come on,” I said. “I’m ready!”
Penelope’s evening seems to be getting more complicated by the minute, but then a simple dinner with David turns into a journey of shocking discoveries that challenge everything she has ever believed to be true about her family and herself. A dinner party that seemed to be going well suddenly becomes a platform for startling revelations that could change her life forever.Have you ever gone on an awful date? Indeed, I concur. This one started off really well, but let’s just say the conclusion went in a direction I wasn’t expecting. So it all began one seemingly ordinary day in the public library.
I got to know David in this way. With his teacherly charm, he started a conversation by asking me about my favorite literature. Before I knew it, we were deep in discussion on everything from classic literature to modern science fiction. It was nice to meet someone who could follow my meandering thoughts.
During our talk, David unexpectedly invited me out—not for a date, but for dinner. “Which restaurant is your favorite?” he said. I remember giggling softly, taken aback by his openness.
I responded, “My favorite place is a bit much for a first date,” but I eventually told him about it. I reserve this lovely spot for indulging in self-indulgence or celebrating personal successes. After all, you don’t typically spend $600 on dinner.
However, I wanted our first meeting to be casual, so I suggested a trendy Mexican eatery that was roughly halfway between us. I winked and added, “They have over 300 tequilas and tacos with handmade tortillas that are to die for.” It’s also quite reasonably priced.
David listened intently, but he was certain about choosing the spot. I appreciated his initiative as much as I wanted those amazing tacos. Compromise is necessary in big cities with awful traffic, especially if you live on opposite sides of the spectrum.
Now allow me to discuss my favorite restaurant. It’s this incredible location where James Beard award-winning mixologists deliver bite-sized pieces of heaven with their concoctions. Every now and then I go there just to enjoy a drink and take in the lavish setting.
David hesitated for a moment, then suddenly insisted on going to my favorite fancy restaurant. After all, who was I to argue? It is, after all, my favorite place. Thus, we departed.
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. We got the delectable little morsels I mentioned before as appetizers, and the cocktails continued to be intriguing.
Dinner was brought, dish after exquisite dish, and there was much joshing and animated conversation. We even had dessert, which is unusual for me unless it’s a really special occasion. We were clearly having a fantastic time, in my opinion.
But how did the evening unfold, my dear? After paying the significant amount, which was obviously more than $600, something unexpected happened.
My card slipped out of my bag and landed on the table out of habit. Things started to go weird after David took up the cause. Rather of simply handing it back, he examined it closely.
Then he did something that made my stomach turn to gravel: he examined every detail and stated, “You should be careful with this,” before putting the card down.
Upon further reflection, it’s possible that he had bad intentions. But it felt like a major invasion of my privacy at the time. Why did he have to be so indifferent to my card? Is there any way he could have given it back without saying something like that?
I quickly called it a night, feeling both humiliated and furious. I thanked him, if a little stiffly, got into a cab, and as soon as I arrived home, I blocked him. Nothing, not even a text or call.
I spoke with a friend about it today, and they said maybe I had been too hard on David. They said that I could have just asked him about it and that there might have been a good reason for him to look at my card.
But all I could think about at the moment was how he had ruined the whole evening and my mood. And so, while I was still thinking about the awful dinner, life decided to throw me another curveball.
Two days after I had pushed the block button on David, here he was, standing outside my house. You did hear that, that’s true. He seemed apologetic and uncomfortable, like he had something important to say.
When he murmured, “Penelope, I’m so sorry,” I could see he meant it by the look in his eyes. “I needed to make sure it was really you, Penelope Smith.”
I listened, confused as I was at this point, as he took a big breath and revealed something startling that would change my life forever. “I’m your half-brother,” was his reply, barely discernible above a whisper.
I tried to process what he had said while I blinked. How could David, the guy I recently turned down for the library date, be my half-brother? He said that the man I had always considered to be my father was not the one I was born with. Instead, it was his father who cheated on my mother. It sounded like something out of a soap opera.
The days that followed went very swiftly. We decided to have DNA testing done because this was a substantial enough claim to not rely solely on faith. The world did indeed have one more surprise in store for me when the results were in: we were, in fact, half-siblings.
My emotions were all over the place as I stood there clutching the results. I was not only surprised, but I also had an odd kind of curiosity for my unidentified half-brother. I wasn’t sure if I should tell my parents. Such details could disclose a lot of things.
In the end, I realized that some things are just too significant to overlook, regardless of the consequences. I made the decision to tell them, as I wanted, and on my terms. Meanwhile, David and I started to painstakingly create the sibling bond that none of us ever had.
Beneath the strangeness and discomfort, there was a relationship that was potentially just as important as the one I had expected from my meet-cute in the library.
Folks, that is all there is to it. A family gathering turned from a supper to a crisis of self. Is it not the case that life operates in peculiar ways?
In order to pay the bill, my significant other insisted that I give the server my card.
It was meant to be an evening of celebration exclusively. After six months at my new job, I was thrilled to finally inform my boyfriend Troy that I had gotten a huge raise.
He recommended the newest, posh restaurant in town, the one with the gorgeous interior and gourmet fare.
He said, “Lisa, let’s just get dressed and head out.” Since we don’t get to do this very often, let’s make the most of it.
We didn’t always choose to go out and do anything, I had to agree. This was not always the case.
“No problem,” I replied. “We really need to go out for a night.”
And I believed that we required it. Mostly because I had begun to see some signs of dissolution in our partnership, even though I wanted to believe that Troy and I were intended to be together forever. It felt, to put it simply, off.
Troy didn’t feel satisfied with his career, but I did.
During a salsa night one evening, he bitterly observed, “I do so much, but nobody bothers to recognize me.”
Troy sat on the couch, dipping his chips in the salsa and guacamole, and complained about his job for the entire evening.
Because of his opinions about my work, I refrained from complimenting him.
“Maybe you just need to give it more time,” I said, passing him a cool margarita alongside. “It’s only been a few months since you arrived.”
“Please,” he muttered to Lisa. “You were unable to understand. Give me room to exist.
But as I found out about this incredible chance, I was giddy with anticipation. I assumed Troy would feel the same about being recognized and having a celebration.
I was astonished when he told me he was proud of me and seemed sincere about it.
“Really, babe,” he said as he arrived to pick me up from my flat. “I admire you, and this is very important.”
The start of the evening was quite pleasant. Troy wa
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