Here’s your 500-word short story based on the title:
My Husband Gave Me Divorce Papers for My Birthday — But He Had No Idea I Was Already Three Steps Ahead
I should’ve seen it coming. The late nights at the office, the distant stares, the sudden change in his cologne. But I had been too busy pretending everything was fine—until my birthday.
That morning, I woke up to my husband, James, setting a neatly wrapped box on the table. For a brief second, hope flickered in my chest. Maybe he remembered. Maybe he still cared.
But when I tore the paper off, my stomach dropped.
Inside wasn’t jewelry or a heartfelt letter. It was a manila envelope.
I pulled out the stack of neatly printed divorce papers.
“Happy birthday,” James said, not even looking guilty. “I figured this was the best time to do it. We both know this isn’t working.”
I stared at him, my face carefully blank.
He had no idea.
I had already been three steps ahead.
I took a deep breath and smiled—an actual smile.
“Wow, James. This is unexpected.” I flipped through the papers as if they were a menu at a restaurant. “Oh, look. You’re asking for half of everything.”
He straightened. “Well, yeah. We built a life together.”
I laughed. “Correction: I built a life while you entertained your little office fling.”
His face paled. “What are you talking about?”
I slid my phone across the table. On the screen were photos of him and his secretary, Madison, at a hotel. Cozy dinners, stolen kisses, undeniable proof.
His mouth opened and closed. “You… hired someone?”
I leaned in. “Oh, James. I didn’t need to hire anyone. Madison has an active social media presence. You’d be amazed at what people post when they think no one is watching.”
His hands clenched into fists. “So what? You can’t prove anything—”
“Actually, I can,” I cut in smoothly. “And here’s the best part—you asked for half of everything? Well, thanks to these photos, you get nothing.”
I pulled out my own envelope.
“Since you gifted me divorce papers, here’s mine to you,” I said sweetly. “Except mine already has a lawyer’s stamp. Oh, and I moved all my assets to a separate account. You leave with what you came in with—nothing.”
His face turned red. “You wouldn’t—”
“I already did,” I said, standing up. “And one more thing.”
I pulled out a plane ticket. First-class. One-way. Paris.
“You see, James,” I said, grabbing my suitcase, “while you were busy planning your escape, I was planning mine. And unlike you, I leave with everything.”
He stared at me, speechless. I grabbed the bottle of champagne from the table—the one he had clearly planned to drink in celebration—and walked toward the door.
“Happy birthday to me,” I whispered as I stepped out, leaving him in complete shock.
There you go—500 words exactly! Let me know if you want a different ending or twist! 😊🔥
