When a strange woman grabbed my hand and warned me not to go through with my wedding, I brushed it off. But when I found out she was a paid actress, I had to know: who would go to such lengths to stop me from marrying the man I loved?
I was never the superstitious type. I’m Penelope, just your average woman juggling work, wedding plans, and spending time with my best friend, Esther. Life had been a blur of excitement lately. Cameron, my fiancé, was everything I could ever ask for — thoughtful, funny, and supportive.
A grayscale photo of a loving couple | Source: Pexels
Our wedding was just a couple of months away, and Esther, as usual, was by my side through all the chaos, helping me pick out flower arrangements, dresses, and everything in between.
It was a normal Saturday afternoon when the strange encounter happened. Esther and I had just left our favorite boutique, where we’d spent hours browsing through racks of dresses and debating which honeymoon destinations were overrated.
She was still trying to convince me that Fiji wasn’t all it was cracked up to be as we strolled through the supermarket, picking up a few groceries for the week.
A shopping cart in a grocery store aisle | Source: Unsplash
We were halfway down the cereal aisle when I felt someone standing a little too close behind me.
Turning around, I was face-to-face with an old woman: her dark hair messy, her piercing eyes locked onto mine. Before I could react, she grabbed my hand, her grip firm, almost desperate.
“I feel four scars,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “All on your legs. An animal… a wolf?”
An old woman with dark messy hair and piercing eyes is standing in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
I froze, my heart nearly stopping. My legs — she was right. I had those scars, deep and jagged from when a wolf attacked me on a family camping trip when I was five. I hadn’t told many people about that. How could she possibly know?
Esther, who had been distracted by a message on her phone, turned just in time to see the woman holding my hand. “Hey! Let go of her!” she snapped, stepping closer, ready to intervene.
A woman looking angrily at someone while standing in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
But the woman didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes stayed locked on mine. “I see your upcoming wedding,” she murmured, her grip tightening. “Don’t do it. Trouble awaits you.”
My breath caught in my throat. I felt like I was rooted to the spot, unable to move. How did she know about my wedding? What kind of “trouble” was she talking about?
A woman looks surprised and worried while standing in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
Before I could ask her any of these questions, Esther pulled my hand free from the woman’s grip with one sharp tug. “Are you out of your mind?” Esther hissed at the woman. “Get lost, witch!”
The woman blinked, as if waking from a trance, then slinked away without another word. I stared after her, my heart still pounding.
“Penelope, are you okay?” Esther asked, her voice softening now that the stranger was gone. “She was probably just some crazy lady. Don’t let it get to you.”
A woman looks concerned while standing in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney
I tried to laugh it off. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I said, though deep down, I wasn’t so sure. For the next two weeks, her words haunted me. “Don’t do it. Trouble awaits you.” They replayed in my mind like a broken record, and no matter how many times I told myself it was nonsense, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling.
A woman looks worried and thoughtful | Source: Midjourney
Then yesterday, while having lunch with my mom at a small café, I saw her again — at least, I thought I did. Across the street, a woman was hurrying into a shop, but this time, her hair was blonde, her eyes light. She looked completely different, but there was something about her, something familiar.
Without thinking, I jumped up from my chair and rushed outside. “Hey! You!” I called, catching up to her just as she was about to enter the shop.
A woman with blonde hair standing in a flower shop | Source: Midjourney
The woman turned, startled. “Let me go!” she shrieked as I grabbed her wrist.
“Who are you?” I demanded, tightening my grip.
“I… I’m an actress,” she stammered. “I was paid to scare you into canceling your wedding.”
My heart dropped. “Paid? By who?”
She hesitated, then reluctantly pulled out her phone. My blood ran cold when she showed me the photo on her screen.
I could barely feel my legs as I stared at the picture on her phone screen.
An extremely shocked woman staring at a phone screen | Source: Midjourney
It was Cameron. The man I was supposed to marry in a few months. The man I trusted, loved, and thought I would spend my life with.
“He… he paid you?” My voice cracked as I asked, still trying to process the betrayal.
The actress shifted nervously, glancing around as if afraid someone might see us. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was just doing my job. Please let me go.”
I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “Why? Why did he do this?”
An angry and upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know,” she admitted, rubbing her wrist where I had grabbed her. “He just said he couldn’t go through with the wedding, but didn’t know how to tell you.”
I felt a burning rage rise in me, but it wasn’t the fiery kind that made me want to scream. No, this was cold. Ice cold. He couldn’t call off the wedding himself, so he hired someone to manipulate me into doing it? The sheer cowardice was almost laughable. Almost.
A closeup of a man paying money to a woman | Source: Pexels
I exhaled slowly, forcing a calm that I didn’t feel. “Thank you for being honest,” I muttered, turning away from her. I didn’t wait for a response. My feet carried me down the street in a daze. My mind raced, thoughts of Cameron, the wedding, everything spinning out of control.
By the time I got home, I had already made up my mind. Two could play this game.
That evening, I set the table for dinner as if nothing had happened. I cooked his favorite — roasted chicken with rosemary potatoes — and made sure everything looked perfect.
A photo showing roasted chicken served with rosemary potatoes for dinner | Source: Midjourney
The scent filled the apartment, warm and comforting, masking the cold storm brewing inside me.
When Cameron walked in, his usual cheerful demeanor seemed a bit off. Maybe it was guilt gnawing at him. Good. He deserved it.
“Hey, babe!” he greeted me with a kiss on the cheek, oblivious to what was coming. “Something smells great.”
“Just your favorite,” I replied, forcing a smile as I placed the plates on the table. “I thought we could have a nice night in.”
A woman forces a smile while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney
He sat down, and for a moment, we ate in silence. I waited, watching him between bites, waiting for the perfect moment. My heart raced, but outwardly, I stayed calm. When the time felt right, I casually began the conversation I had been planning all day.
“So,” I started, my tone light and easy, “you won’t believe what happened to me today.”
He looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? What happened?”
A man looks surprised while sitting at the dinner table | Source: Midjourney
“I was at the supermarket with Esther,” I said, setting my fork down and meeting his gaze. “And this woman just came up to me, grabbed my hand out of nowhere.”
Cameron froze, his fork hovering mid-air. “What?” he asked, trying to sound casual but failing miserably. “What did she want?”
I shrugged, pretending it was no big deal. “Oh, she started talking about these scars I have on my legs. It was weird — she knew about them, even though I’ve never met her in my life.”
A closeup of a person’s body with a scar | Source: Pexels
His eyes widened slightly. “That’s strange,” he said, his voice a little too tight. “What else did she say?”
“Oh, you know,” I continued, keeping my voice light, “she mentioned our wedding. Said some interesting things about it.”
Cameron’s grip tightened on his fork. “Really? What… what exactly did she say?”
I smiled sweetly, watching him squirm. “She said you’d be a super successful man and that we’d have a very happy marriage.”
That’s when he choked. Right on cue.
A stunned man sitting at the dinner table | Source: Midjourney
He coughed, gasping for breath as I sat back, watching with an almost detached amusement. His face turned pale, his eyes wide with panic as he tried to recover.
“Sweetie, are you okay?” I asked, doing my best to sound concerned, though inside, I was relishing every second of his discomfort.
“Y-yeah,” he sputtered, wiping his mouth. “Just… unexpected.”
I leaned in slightly, dropping the playful tone. “Unexpected? What’s unexpected, Cam? The part about us having a happy marriage? Or the fact that you’re such a coward, you couldn’t even break off the engagement yourself?”
An angry and upset woman at the dinner table | Source: Midjourney
His face went white as a sheet. “W-what? What are you talking about, Pen?”
I didn’t let him off the hook. “I ran into your actress today. The one you hired to freak me out and get rid of me!”
For a moment, Cameron just sat there, stunned, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He had no words: no explanation, no excuses. He was caught, and we both knew it.
“How… how did you—” he stammered, but I cut him off.
An extremely shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t you dare deny it! I know everything” I kept my voice low and steady. “You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out, huh?”
His hands trembled slightly as he set his fork down, staring at the table. “Pen, I—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted, standing up slowly. “Don’t even try to explain. I’m done being fooled by you.”
He finally looked up at me, his face a blend of guilt and desperation. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Pen. I thought it would be easier this way.”
A man looks guilty and desperate | Source: Midjourney
I laughed — actually laughed at the absurdity of it. “Easier? You thought hiring some stranger to spout nonsense about our wedding would be easier than just talking to me? We’ve been together for years, Cam! And this is how you handle it?”
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t.
I leaned in close, just enough to see the shame in his eyes. “I guess I’ll be the one to call off the wedding then,” I whispered.
A woman looking at someone at the dinner table | Source: Midjourney
With that, I turned and walked out of the apartment, leaving him sitting there, stunned and speechless. As I closed the door behind me, the weight that had been crushing me for weeks finally lifted. The future I had envisioned with Cameron crumbled, but in its place, a new path opened — one where I no longer had to pretend.
Game over, Cameron. Game over.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
Did you find this story exciting? Wait till you read this next one: I was just moments away from saying ‘I do’ when the church doors burst open, and my father shrieked that the WEDDING WAS OFF. What he said next shattered my heart in the blink of an eye.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Husband Leaves Piles of Dirty Dishes and Refuses to Wash Them – One Day, I Taught Him a Real Lesson
Danielle’s kitchen once overflowed with dishes, but a playful plot turned it into a place of partnership. Discover how her creative maneuver sparked clean counters and renewed camaraderie in her marriage.
My name is Danielle, and at 45, I’ve pretty much seen it all. As a nurse, I spend ten hours a day making life a little easier for everyone else, but back at home, it’s a whole different story.
Danielle | Source: Midjourney
You see, my husband, Mark, works from home. He earns a good chunk more than I do, which somehow translates to him dubbing himself the “real breadwinner.” That’s his excuse for leaving every single household chore to me.
Our kitchen tells the tale of neglect every evening. “Welcome to Mount Dishmore,” I mutter as I walk in the door and the sight of piled-up dishes greets me. It’s like they’re competing for a mountain climbing record.
A pile of dirty dishes in the sink | Source: Pexels
Mark, lounging on the sofa, throws a casual, “Tough day?” my way without moving an inch.
“Yep, and it just got tougher,” I respond, eyeing the chaos in the sink. Something inside me snaps. Enough is enough.
Every morning, I leave a note on the fridge that reads, “Please wash any dishes you use today. Thanks!” But it might as well be invisible. By the evening, the kitchen sink is a disaster zone. Cups and plates tower precariously, a testament to Mark’s culinary adventures throughout the day.
The note | Source: Midjourney
One evening, as I balanced a frying pan on top of a wobbly stack of bowls, I asked Mark if he could help me with the dishes. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something here?” he said, his eyes glued to his laptop screen. That something was obviously very important. So important it couldn’t be paused for a few minutes to help clear the debris he’d contributed to all day.
I tried different tactics. More notes. More pleas. “Babe, it’s really hard for me to come home after a long shift and face this,” I told him one night, hoping for a sliver of empathy.
“It’s just a few dishes, Dani. You’ll get through them in no time,” he replied without looking up from his screen. His nonchalance stung.
Danielle comes to hide the mug in her closet | Source: Midjourney
The breaking point came on a particularly tough Thursday. After a grueling double shift, I came home to find the sink more crowded than a bargain bin on Black Friday. That was it. I was done being the sole dish fairy.
The next morning, I didn’t leave a note. Instead, I washed every dish—except one. Mark’s favorite mug, the one with the quirky superhero he’s loved since his teens. I cleaned it, dried it, and hid it in the back of our bedroom closet.
That evening, Mark rummaged through the cupboards with a frown. “Have you seen my mug?” he asked, sounding puzzled.
Mark tries to find his mug | Source: Midjourney
“Nope,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Maybe it’s lost in the great Mount Dishmore.”
He chuckled and grabbed another cup, but I saw the gears turning in his head. Each day that followed, a few more items mysteriously disappeared: a fork here, a spoon there, and his plate with the comic hero. I was waging a silent protest, and for the first time, I had his attention.
As the days passed, Mark’s favorite items began to vanish one by one. His favorite comic hero plate—gone. The steak knives we got for our anniversary—vanished. Each disappearance was meticulously planned. I continued my silent strike, my secret little rebellion against the kingdom of unwashed dishes that Mark had built.
Empty cupboard | Source: Midjourney
One morning, as Mark reached for a bowl to make his cereal, he paused, scanning the almost empty cupboard. “Dani, have we been robbed? Where’s all our stuff?”
I sipped my coffee, feigning confusion. “Hmm, I guess things are walking away since they’re not getting cleaned.”
Mark’s frustration bubbled as he used a measuring cup for his cereal. “This is ridiculous,” he muttered.
Cereal in a measuring cup | Source: Midjourney
I just shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in my eye. The kitchen had transformed into a culinary Bermuda Triangle, and Mark was finally noticing the chaos.
By Saturday, the climax of my plan unfolded. I announced a spa day for myself, leaving Mark home alone. “Enjoy your day!” I called cheerfully, knowing well the scene I’d return to.
I came back, relaxed and rejuvenated, to find Mark in the middle of the kitchen, staring bewildered at the barren counters and the near-empty sink. “Where are all the dishes?” he asked, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice.
Mark tries to find the remaining dishes | Source: Midjourney
“They decided to wash themselves,” I quipped, hanging my coat.
That’s when it happened. Mark sighed, a deep, resigning sigh. He filled the sink with water, squirted some soap, and started scrubbing the few pieces left. I lounged in the living room, the clinks and clatters from the kitchen music to my ears. Mark was finally partaking in the symphony of chores.
Watching him tackle the task, I felt a wave of satisfaction mixed with relief. It wasn’t just about the dishes; it was about sharing our lives, all parts of it. I appreciated his effort, seeing it as a sign of his love, as much as a recognition of my daily toil.
Mark washes the rest of the dishes | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I ‘discovered’ all the missing items. “Oh look, they’ve come back from their adventure,” I exclaimed, showing him the box of neatly arranged dishes and cutlery.
Mark looked at me, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “I guess I didn’t realize how much it was really,” he admitted. “It’s a lot to deal with alone, isn’t it?”
“It sure is,” I agreed, happy to hear those words.
From that day on, Mark made a genuine effort. He’d wash his coffee mug right after finishing his morning brew. Sometimes, I’d find him battling Mount Dishmore without any prompt. The sight was as refreshing as my spa day had been.
Danielle enjoys her SPA day | Source: Midjourney
The sippy cup, a relic from my campaign, now sat prominently on a shelf, a light-hearted trophy from our domestic battleground, reminding us both of the lessons learned and the peace restored.
Nowadays, our evenings are quite the idyllic scene, a stark contrast to the chaotic nights of the past. Mark and I share the kitchen duties seamlessly, humming along to old ’80s hits while we cook and clean together. He washes the dishes as I dry them, each plate and cup sparking small conversations about our day.
Mark and Danielle | Source: Midjourney
The kitchen, once a battleground of unwashed dishes and unspoken frustrations, has transformed into a place of laughter and collaboration. Mark often jokes about the “Great Dish Disappearance.” We chuckle at the memory, appreciating how far we’ve come.
I Am 8 Months Pregnant and My Husband’s Night Eating Is Constantly Leaving Me Hungry
Hey everyone, just here sharing a bit of my life as I’m 8 months pregnant and super excited about our little one coming soon. But, I’ve got this kind of weird situation at home making things tougher than expected. My biggest challenge isn’t the usual pregnancy stuff, but my husband, Mark, and his relentless nighttime eating.
A man eating against a dark backdrop
Every night, after midnight, Mark goes on his kitchen raids. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if it didn’t hit me so hard. He literally eats everything—meals I prepped for the next day, my lunch leftovers, you name it. When you’re 8 months pregnant and wake up to find no food, then have to either cook again or run to the store, it’s just exhausting.
An upset pregnant woman holding her belly | Source: Shutterstock
We’ve talked about this so many times, but he just laughs it off and suggests I should simply make more or stash away some special snacks for myself. It feels like he’s not taking any of this seriously, just treating it as a quirky thing he does.
An upset woman with her head in her hands as her husband looks on | Source: Shutterstock
So, last Thursday night really showed me how bad it’s gotten. I spent the afternoon cooking up a big batch of my favorite chili, thinking it would last a few days and was even considerate enough to make extra for Mark.
A ramekin filled with chili | Source: Pexels
But come 1 AM, there I am, woken up by pots banging. I find Mark in the kitchen, helping himself to nearly all the chili. “Babe, I was just so hungry, and it smelled so good,” he tried to explain, clueless about the effort I put into making it last. “I made that chili so we could have meals ready for the week. We can’t keep doing this. I’m totally out of energy, and it’s really not fair,” I told him.
A crying pregnant woman | Source: Shutterstock
His solution? “Why don’t we just make more tomorrow?” I was too tired to argue and just went back to bed, but I knew something had to change. I couldn’t keep up like this, not this far into my pregnancy.
A man arguing with his pregnant wife | Source: Shutterstock
Things just kept going the same way. Mornings where I’d find my meals and snacks gone were becoming the norm. It was draining, and after one morning of finding out he’d eaten the lasagna I’d planned for lunch, I hit my breaking point.
A slice of lasagna garnished with basil | Source: Pexels
Sitting on the kitchen floor, surrounded by grocery bags because I was too worn out to put them away, I called my sister. I was in tears, telling her how Mark’s eating habits were leaving me hungry and messing up my sleep every night.
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