I placed the lasagna on the table, my hands trembling. “Dinner’s ready,” I called out, trying to sound upbeat.
Ethan walked in and sat down, his face already clouded with disapproval. He took a bite of the lasagna, chewed, and spat it out. “This is disgusting,” he said. “Why can’t you cook like your sister? Her meals are amazing, while yours are terrible.”
His words felt like a knife through my heart. “You’re worthless in the kitchen, Amanda!” he spat, as he had done many times before.
In our ten years of marriage, Ethan had consistently criticized my cooking, always comparing me unfavorably to Olivia, my sister and a professional chef. The constant comparison had worn me down, and I was fed up with his harsh judgments.
That night, as I lay in bed, a plan began to form. I decided it was time to prove Ethan wrong and show him that my cooking was just as good. The next day, I drove to Olivia’s house, hoping she would help me execute my idea.
“Hey, Amanda! What’s up?” Olivia greeted me warmly.
“I need your help,” I said. I explained how Ethan’s constant criticism had gone too far and how I planned to cook meals myself but present them as if they were from her. I hoped to prove my point and save the money he paid for “professional” meals.
Olivia’s eyes lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea. Let’s do it!”
We quickly set up a plan: I would cook the meals at home and then bring them to Olivia’s for packaging. She would help with the final touches. We decided on a fair price for Ethan to pay, one that would make him think he was getting a deal.
“I’ll charge him $750 a month,” I said. Olivia agreed, and we got to work. For the next several months, I prepared delicious dishes and delivered them for packaging. Ethan, blissfully unaware, continued to praise what he believed were Olivia’s creations.
Every compliment felt like a small victory. Ethan enjoyed my meals, never suspecting that they were my own. I saved every dollar he paid, knowing it would come in handy.
One evening, I decided to throw a dinner party as the grand reveal. I invited Ethan’s friends and family and prepared a feast of his favorite dishes: roasted chicken, garlic bread, and chocolate cake.
As guests arrived and enjoyed the meal, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. When everyone was seated and enjoying their food, I stood up to make an announcement. “Thank you all for coming. I have a surprise for Ethan.”
I handed Ethan an envelope. Inside were recipes labeled “Homemade by Amanda.” His face turned pale as he realized what it meant.
“Wait, these… you made all this yourself?” he stammered.
“Yes, Ethan,” I said proudly. “I’ve been cooking every meal you’ve praised over the past year. I just packaged them as Olivia’s to show you that my cooking is just as good.”
The room erupted in laughter and applause. Ethan’s face reddened. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I was unfair and jealous. Can you forgive me?”
I smiled. “Of course, Ethan. But let this be a lesson. And by the way, I used the money you paid for the meals to book a spa retreat for myself.”
The guests cheered, impressed by my clever plan. The night ended on a high note, with Ethan now appreciating every meal I made. Our marriage grew stronger, and I learned that sometimes, a little creativity can teach a lesson that lasts.
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