My husband’s mistress’s husband acted all arrogant in front of me, but I felt satisfied with the vicious revenge plots I had carried out.

The most triumphant revenge I ever had was the time I brought my husband’s spare motorbike key—and that girl carelessly left her handbag in the bike’s trunk. I opened it up, took all the money, and threw her documents into the river to vent my anger.

Those who have never been under pressure just sit there preaching like angels. But try walking a mile in the shoes of women like me—then you’ll understand.

When my child turned four, my husband suddenly turned into a cheating bastard. I yelled until I was foaming at the mouth, but he still wouldn’t change. I was so desperate, I demanded a divorce. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized—divorcing now would be foolish.

After the divorce, I’d be stuck as a single mom carrying the stigma of a broken marriage, left raising a child while hurting—
and meanwhile, my husband and his mistress would be free to enjoy each other without guilt.

So I thought: if I have to suffer, there’s no way they get to be happy either. Divorce or not, I’d stay in the middle and ruin their peace.

I quietly tracked down her home address, workplace, and every contact number she had. I was ready to confront her, slam my hand on the table and scream in her face. But doing that would just make me look like the villain—
and might even bring them closer together out of pity.
If I was going to be heartbroken, then that girl would have to live half-alive as payback for stealing my husband.

I went to the post office and signed up for a gift delivery service under a fake name. Every day, a fresh red rose was sent to her address, signed by a mysterious man. Sometimes, when I was in the mood, I’d include a flirtatious card:
“Thank you for last night.”
“So happy to have you.”

My goal was to make my husband jealous and suspect that she was cheating too.
One time, I even sent a big gift box with a sextoy inside and a note:
“Use this while you wait for me.”

I didn’t get to witness it personally, but I can just imagine her turning pale and the whispers that must have gone around at her office.

I had a friend working at the same company as my husband’s mistress.
She didn’t know they were having an affair.
So I made up a story about someone spotting the girl going in and out of motels and the maternity clinic like it was her second home.

As a woman, I know exactly how gossip spreads and stories get twisted.
And sure enough, the bad rumors about my husband’s mistress started to take on a life of their own.

By chance, a friend told me that the whole office went out for drinks at a bar that night. I rushed over to make arrangements. Not long after my husband’s mistress sat down, a waiter came out with a bottle of wine and said, “Haven’t seen you in a while! Boss said this is a gift for you and your friends to enjoy. When you’re done, he’s waiting for you upstairs.” Then he handed her a few condoms, pretending it was all part of the message.

Of course, I was the one who paid for that bottle of wine.
It cost money—but the result was worth every cent.

My friend told me the girl went pale and tried to deny everything, insisting the waiter had mistaken her for someone else. But when he rattled off her full name and details without missing a beat, she broke down crying, trying to explain herself.

But obviously, no one believed a word she said after that.
Honestly, what she suffered—being misunderstood and humiliated—was nothing compared to the pain of being betrayed by the man I trusted. She got what she deserved.

As for my husband, I didn’t let him off easily either.

There were evenings when I hadn’t even served dinner yet and he was already rushing into the bathroom, saying he had to “entertain clients.”
I knew full well it was just an excuse to sneak off to a motel with her.
I’d be shaking with anger but still calmly helped him prepare his clothes—
and then, I’d secretly sprinkle chili powder into the crotch of his underwear.

Since he was in a rush, he didn’t notice right away. But later that night, he looked uneasy and kept fidgeting.
He even asked me, pretending to be casual, “Did you wash my clothes properly? It feels a bit… itchy.”
I played innocent, saying, “Me and the baby feel just fine.”

When I tried to initiate intimacy, he got startled and refused. Then he admitted, “I didn’t do anything, but my… area is all swollen for no reason.”
I didn’t feel sorry for him one bit. That thing didn’t belong to me anymore anyway.

I did this a few times, and he never suspected a thing.
Even if he had found out, I wouldn’t have cared.
Let’s be honest—who was the one in the wrong to begin with?

Whenever my husband planned a date with his mistress, I’d secretly follow.
If they were at a café, I’d lurk outside and wait for my chance—to slash their tires or break their side mirrors.
Every time I went spying on them, I made sure I had some entertainment.
What I loved most was seeing her flustered and sulking when their dates didn’t go smoothly.

I kept sabotaging their relationship like that until, after 7 months, they finally broke up.
The reason?
They kept running into “bad luck” every time they were together.
And since I wasn’t restricting my husband in any way, he eventually got bored.

I’m not trying to brag, but I do consider myself a master at revenge.
I managed to humiliate his mistress and break them up without him suspecting a thing.
Every single thing I did was calculated and subtle.
Even if I told him straight up, he probably wouldn’t believe I was capable of it.

So to all the women out there whose husbands are cheating—
Don’t back down. Don’t surrender to your husband and his mistress.
If there’s a grudge, take your revenge. Don’t overthink it, don’t feel guilty.
This is the price they pay for betrayal.
We’re just delivering justice on behalf of heaven.