I Found a Christmas Gift in My Husband's Closet, but It Had His Mistress's Name on It – So I Switched It to Get Revenge

Two days before Christmas, I found a hidden gift box in my husband's closet meant for his mistress. I didn't cry. I didn't scream. I planned the "perfect" surprise instead, one they'd never forget.

I never thought I'd be the type of woman who'd get creative with payback, but life has a way of surprising you. Just like finding that little red gift box in my husband's closet surprised me. Now, sitting here with a glass of wine, I can't help but smile at how perfectly my Christmas surprise turned out.

The first sign something was wrong came a month before Christmas. Jimmy started working late... really late. The kind of late that makes you wonder if your husband's office actually has a bed hidden somewhere.

"Hey, you're home early! How was the client meeting" his voice echoed from the kitchen as I walked through our front door at 7 p.m. These days, that counted as early.

I dropped my keys in the ceramic bowl we'd bought on our honeymoon. "Yeah, thought I'd surprise you."

The house felt empty despite the Christmas decorations I'd put up — the garland along the stairs, the wreaths on every door, and the giant tree in our living room that I'd decorated alone while Jimmy worked another late night.

"I made pasta," he called out. "Want some?"

"Already ate." I headed upstairs, my footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs. "Got a headache. Think I'll turn in early."

That night, I lay awake listening to Jimmy's steady breathing beside me, wondering when exactly we'd become strangers who shared a bed. Five years of marriage, no kids yet. We'd been "waiting for the right time."

Now I wondered if there'd ever be one.

My mom had warned me about marrying young. "You're only 23, Alina," she'd said. "What's the rush?"

But I'd been so sure. Jimmy was different. He was special. He was... well, currently getting a text at 2 a.m. that made his phone light up the darkness of our bedroom.

Two days before Christmas, I finally tackled Jimmy's disaster of a home office and then started cleaning his closet. Between the messy clothes, tangled charging cables, and abandoned gym gear, something caught my eye.

It was a red gift box tucked behind his winter coats.

My heart skipped. Maybe I'd been wrong. Maybe he'd planned a surprise. Maybe all those late nights were just him working hard to afford something special for me.

Then I saw the note attached with pristine silver ribbon: "LOVE YOU, JULIE!"

Here's the heartbreaker: My name IS NOT JULIE!

The world didn't stop spinning. My hands didn't shake. Instead, a strange calm washed over me as I opened the box to find a diamond necklace — the exact one I'd shown him months ago during our anniversary dinner.

"Look how beautiful that is," I'd said, pointing to the jewelry store window.

"Too expensive," he'd replied, barely glancing up from his phone.

Apparently not too expensive for Julie, though!

I pulled out my phone and dialed Mark, my furniture-fixing friend from college. "Remember when you said you owe me for helping with your divorce paperwork? Time to cash in that favor."

"Alina? Everything okay?"

"Not really. How good are you at modifying gift boxes?"

Mark's workshop smelled like sawdust and revenge when I visited. He whistled as he examined the box. "You sure about this, Alina? Once we modify it, we can't—"

"Absolutely." I handed him a small canister that contained my secret recipe for revenge. "Make it count."

"It'll trigger the moment anyone lifts the lid more than an inch." He demonstrated the mechanism with careful hands. "Spring-loaded, just like you asked. It will hit everything within a three-foot radius. Industrial grade stuff."

I smiled, imagining the scene. "Perfect!"

"Want to tell me who it's for?"

"Let's just say someone's getting an extra special Christmas surprise this year."

That evening, I returned the gift box to its hiding spot, right where Jimmy would expect to find it. Now came the hard part... waiting.

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold. I'd always loved the magic, the anticipation, and the joy of Christmas. This year, I felt a different kind of anticipation as I watched from the kitchen while Jimmy grabbed his coat, the red box poorly hidden under his arm.

"Heading to the office, hun?" I asked sweetly, stirring my coffee. "On Christmas?"

"Just for an hour," he mumbled, not meeting my eyes. "Emergency client meeting, sugar."

"Of course. Don't work too hard."

He smiled and left. I grabbed my car keys and followed him to Honey Bunz, our favorite restaurant.

Through the window, I saw her. JULIE. My husband's mistress who had that perfectly-styled blonde hair, red lipstick, and designer outfit. Everything I didn't.

Julie bounced in her seat like a kid on Christmas morning as Jimmy approached. "Awww, Jim, darling! You shouldn't have!" She clapped her hands together, drawing stares from nearby tables.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." Jimmy's voice carried through the window he'd forgotten to close completely. He slid into the booth across from her, presenting the glittery box with a flourish. "I picked it out for you, my love."

"Oh my god, is it...?" Julie's eyes widened as she grabbed the box. "The diamond necklace from La Enchanted Diamonds? The one I showed you last month? The diamond ring from Botswana?"

"Open it and see, sugar." Jimmy leaned forward, grinning like a fool.

"Three..." I whispered, my phone steady and recording. "Two... one..."

SPLAT!

The explosion of green paint was magnificent. Julie's scream hit a note I didn't think was humanly possible. "MY HAIR! MY DRESS!" She jumped up, paint dripping down her face like melted ice cream. "JIMMY, WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?"

Jimmy sat frozen, mouth open, green paint dripping from his nose. "I... I don't..."

"Is this some kind of joke?" Julie shrieked, wiping paint from her eyes. "Do you think this is funny, you MORON?"

An elderly woman at the next table snorted into her mimosa. "Well, I think it's hilarious!"

"Someone get this on video!" a teenage boy called out.

"Already trending!" another responded, typing furiously on his phone.

Julie grabbed her ruined designer purse. "I look like the Grinch threw up on me! This dress cost more than your monthly salary, you idiot!"

"Julie, baby, wait—" Jimmy stood up, spreading green paint everywhere.

"Don't 'baby' me! I'm done being your dirty little suprise!" She stormed toward the door, leaving green footprints in her wake. "And by the way? Your wife's way too good for you!"

You got that right, sister!

I barely made it home before Jimmy burst through the door, his face and expensive suit covered in bright green paint.

"What happened to you?" I gasped, fighting to keep my expression concerned. "You look like the Grinch!"

"Some... some kids with paint balloons," he sputtered. "They were targeting everyone outside my office."

"On Christmas? How awful!" I reached for the manila envelope on the counter. "Oh, by the way, these came for you today. Consider it my Christmas gift, DARLING!"

Jimmy's paint-streaked fingers trembled as he opened the envelope. His eyes widened at the divorce papers inside.

"WHAT?" He looked up, anxiety dawning on his green face.

"Merry Christmas, darling." I pulled the diamond necklace out from my pocket. "By the way, your taste in jewelry has improved since our anniversary. Poor Julie. She missed out on this!"

"You... you swi—"

"Yep! I switched the gift box you'd so lovingly hidden for your sweet mistress! How was the surprise? Liked it?"

"Alina, honey, let me explain. You don't understand!" He stepped forward. "Julie means nothing to me! She was a mistake!"

"A mistake?" I laughed. "A mistake is forgetting to buy milk. A mistake is mixing whites with colors in the laundry. Buying your mistress the exact necklace your wife wanted? That's betrayal."

"We can fix this!" He reached for me with paint-stained hands. "I'll do anything! Counseling, therapy, whatever you want!"

"What I want?" I stepped back. "I wanted a faithful husband. I wanted the man I married. Instead, I got a liar who can't even come up with a decent excuse for being caught. 'Kids with paint balloons?' Really?"

"Baby, please," Jimmy stepped forward, green paint dripping onto our pristine floors. "It was nothing serious. Julie was just... she didn't mean anything. We never—"

"Save it." I held up my hand. "I've heard all the excuses. 'She's just a friend.' 'We're just colleagues.' 'Those late nights were just work.' Do you know what the worst part is? I actually believed you for a while."

"Don't do this. Please. I'm sorry."

I laughed. "You know what's funny? I spent months thinking I wasn't enough. That I needed to be prettier, smarter, and better somehow. But standing here looking at you covered in paint, I realize you're the one who was never enough."

"Give me another chance."

"No." I grabbed my packed suitcase from behind the couch. "But thanks for the necklace. Consider it my consolation prize. Oh, and Jimmy? Green really isn't your color."

As I drove away, I caught one last glimpse of Jimmy in my rearview mirror, a pathetic green figure standing in our driveway. My phone buzzed with notifications. Apparently, someone had posted the paint incident online. The video was already going viral.

Last I heard following the divorce, Julie dumped him after the paint incident made rounds at their law firm where they worked. She couldn't handle being known as "the green mistress." Jimmy tried dating apps for a while, but it's hard to find matches when you're infamous as "the green Christmas cheater."

Me? I'm doing just fine. The necklace looks beautiful with everything I wear, and every time it catches the light, I smile remembering my special Christmas payback: the day I wrapped up my marriage with a bow and a whole lot of green paint.

Here's another story: I mourned my dead wife for 23 years after she died in a plane crash. But fate had arranged for one more meeting with her.

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.