When my husband mocked my cooking with a PowerPoint presentation in front of our family, I was humiliated. But instead of getting angry, I planned my revenge.
I had been married to Ben for almost five years, and most of the time, we were happy. I loved cooking, and I thought I was pretty good at it.
A happy couple | Source: Pexels
I’d been the family chef for years, and anytime we hosted, I would spend hours preparing lasagna from scratch, perfectly marinated roasts or intricate salads with homemade dressings. It was my thing, and I took pride in it.
Ben, on the other hand, could barely manage instant noodles.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
His attempts at cooking were rare, and they usually ended with takeout or, on one memorable occasion, a pot of burnt spaghetti because he forgot to add water. Despite his lack of skill, he had an unshakable confidence about everything, cooking included.
Last Saturday, we had a family gathering at my mom’s house. As usual, I was in charge of the main meal.
A person holding a cooking pot | Source: Pexels
I spent the day marinating the chicken, layering the lasagna, and tossing a big, colorful salad. By the time everyone gathered around the table, they couldn’t wait to dig in, and the compliments started flowing right away.
Then, just as everyone was starting to eat, I noticed Ben giving me a strange smirk that I couldn’t quite read. I tried to brush it off, thinking maybe he was remembering some inside joke. But then he cleared his throat and said, “You know, I’ve actually been taking notes on your cooking.”
A smiling man at a family dinner | Source: Midjourney
I laughed, thinking he was joking. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
He went on, “I made a little presentation.” I thought he was kidding, but no. He pulled out his phone, connected it to my mom’s TV, and opened up an actual PowerPoint presentation titled “Improving Our Home Dining Experience.” The table went silent, and I sat there, stunned.
A family dinner | Source: Freepik
“Alright, everyone,” he began, sounding for all the world like he was on stage. “Slide 1: Too Much Garlic.” He tapped the screen, and up came a photo of garlic bulbs with the note, “Strong flavors can overpower the palate.”
My cheeks burned as he carried on. “Ben, what is this?”
Garlic bulbs | Source: Pexels
Ignoring me, he continued. “Slide 2: Pasta Too Al Dente. We all know pasta should be tender, not crunchy,” he said, glancing around as if he were waiting for everyone’s agreement.
My sister let out an awkward laugh, and my dad coughed into his napkin. I was mortified but still too shocked to respond.
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
Then he showed “Slide 3: Not Enough Salt in the Salad,” explaining to everyone at the table how “a good cook knows salt brings out flavors.”
Finally, he wrapped up with a photo of Gordon Ramsay facepalming, captioned, “What he’d think.” He sat back with a self-satisfied grin, glancing around for applause.
A smiling man | Source: Freepik
The room was quiet. My mom broke the silence with a forced chuckle. “Well, Ben, that’s… certainly creative,” she said, trying to smooth over the awkwardness.
I sat through the rest of the meal in silence, too humiliated to meet anyone’s eyes.
When we got home, I didn’t wait a moment before I turned to him. “Ben, what was that?” I asked.
A couple arguing | Source: Pexels
“It was all in good fun, babe,” he replied with a shrug. “You take cooking seriously, so I thought you’d appreciate some feedback.”
“Feedback?” I shot back. “Ben, you humiliated me in front of my family! How could you possibly think that was appropriate?”
“Relax,” he said, brushing it off. “You’re overreacting. I was just trying to help.”
A man talking to his upset girlfriend | Source: Pexels
“Help?” I repeated, hardly believing it. “Ben, you can’t even toast bread without setting off the smoke alarm. Who are you to critique my cooking?”
“It was just a joke,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You’re being way too sensitive.”
I stared at him for a moment, feeling the last bit of my patience snap. “Fine. If you’re that much of a food critic, cook for yourself. I’m done.”
A couple with arms crossed | Source: Pexels
He laughed like he didn’t believe me. “Oh, come on, you’re not serious.”
“Oh, I’m dead serious, Ben,” I said, crossing my arms. And I meant every word.
After that humiliating dinner, I had no plans to let Ben off easy. The more I replayed the scene in my mind, the angrier I became. But instead of yelling or sulking, I decided on something better. If Ben thought PowerPoint was the way to go, well, I’d give him a presentation of my own.
A woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
Over the next week, I poured my energy into creating “Improving Our Financial Experience.” It was hard not to laugh as I worked; my slides grew more ironic with every detail I added. This would be my perfect little payback, delivered with the same over-the-top style he’d used.
Slide 1 was titled “If We Could Afford a Vacation.” It opened with a dreamy stock photo of a sunny beach, complete with palm trees and turquoise waves.
A sunny beach | Source: Pexels
Underneath, I’d written, “If we had a little more financial flexibility, maybe we could be here instead of at home this summer!” A few bar graphs followed, showing how our current income made a tropical vacation “not feasible at this time.”
Slide 2 covered “Home Improvements: If Only We Could Budget for It.” A shiny, fully remodeled kitchen filled the slide, with sleek appliances and granite countertops.
A modern kitchen | Source: Pexels
Below, I added, “Imagine the potential if we had some extra funds!” Next, I displayed a cost analysis of his favorite weekly splurges (a bit of reality check disguised as humor) and labeled it, “Potential Savings: Cooking at Home.”
Slide 3 had “Fine Dining (If We Didn’t Eat Out So Often),” complete with mouthwatering photos of elegant dishes from a nearby Michelin-starred restaurant.
Gourmet dishes | Source: Pexels
I’d even put together a line chart comparing our monthly dining expenses to what we’d need to save for a special night at a place like that. A little brutal, maybe, but I was having too much fun by this point to care.
Finally, I wrapped it up with “Goals for a Strong Financial Future.” For the closing slide, I added an aspirational quote from an entrepreneur about achieving one’s dreams.
A man in a sharp suit | Source: Pexels
Right below, I inserted a motivational poster of a man in a suit pointing to the words, “Hard Work Pays Off.” I figured it would hit just the right note of playful irony.
The timing couldn’t have been better. We had another family gathering coming up, and I knew exactly when to roll out my masterpiece.
A woman plotting something | Source: Freepik
On the day of the gathering, I kept a straight face through dinner, politely accepting compliments on my lasagna without bringing up the previous incident. Ben was all smiles, seeming to believe the PowerPoint incident had already been forgotten. After dinner, while everyone was relaxing in the living room, I stood up.
“Hey, everyone,” I said, clearing my throat with a grin, “I actually have a little presentation I’d like to share.”
A smiling woman at a family dinner | Source: Freepik
Ben looked at me, surprised. “Oh? What’s this about?”
“Oh, just a few notes I’ve been working on.” I grabbed the remote and connected my laptop to the TV. The screen lit up with the title, “Improving Our Financial Experience.”
A few of my family members snickered, glancing at Ben. He looked uneasy, glancing around as if he’d just realized where this was going.
Smiling people in a family dinner | Source: Pexels
“Alright, Slide 1,” I said, clicking to a picture of the tropical beach.
Ben’s face went red as our relatives chuckled. My mom shot me a curious smile, realizing what I was doing.
“Slide 2: Home Improvements—If Only We Could Budget for It.” I clicked to the next slide, revealing the remodeled kitchen photo with its sleek appliances.
A woman talking at a family gathering | Source: Freepik
A few of my relatives laughed openly, and my dad nodded in agreement. Ben shifted in his seat, looking more uncomfortable by the second.
“Slide 3,” I continued, “Fine Dining, and How Cutting Back Could Help Us.” At this point, Ben looked like he wanted to disappear, his face flushed and eyes darting around the room.
Finally, I reached the last slide. I smiled and concluded, “With a little focus and effort, we can accomplish anything, don’t you think?”
A smiling confident woman | Source: Pexels
There was a moment of silence before my mom burst into laughter, followed by everyone else. Ben chuckled awkwardly, trying to play along, though it was clear he wasn’t quite as amused as everyone else.
When we got home that night, Ben closed the door and let out a long sigh. “Alright, message received,” he said, hands raised. “I guess I deserved that.”
A tired man | Source: Pexels
“More than deserved,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Maybe next time you’ll think twice before you try to ‘critique’ my cooking in front of everyone.”
He nodded, his expression softening. “You’re right. I was out of line. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just… thought I was being funny.”
“Well, now you know how it feels,” I replied, though I softened my tone, relieved he seemed to understand.
A man comforting his woman | Source: Pexels
Ben gave a small, sheepish smile. “So… does this mean you’ll cook again?”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe,” I said, “but only if you promise to leave the ‘feedback’ out of it.”
A happy hugging couple | Source: Pexels
“Deal,” he said, chuckling. “From now on, you’re the chef.”
And with that, our “PowerPoint wars” were officially over.
Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: Ethan criticizes Amanda’s cooking and calls her worthless in the kitchen, but she’s had enough. Determined to prove him wrong, she devises a secret plan. But how will this housewife turn the tables on her husband, who has been dismissive of her efforts all these years?
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 Son Drew Pictures of a Strange Man — When I Asked Him, He Said, ‘He Comes to See Mommy When You’re at Work’
I was stunned when my son started drawing a grinning stranger. “He comes to see Mommy when you’re at work,” Oliver said innocently. Initially dismissing it as a childish fantasy, I soon spied a mysterious man entering our home, igniting a chilling quest for the truth.
I found the drawing while tidying up the dining table. Most of Oliver’s pictures were what you’d expect from a six-year-old: dinosaurs with rainbow scales, our house with a chimney that looked more like a volcano, and stick figures of our family holding hands. But this one made me pause.
A man frowning at a drawing | Source: Midjourney
Among the crayon scribbles was a tall figure with unnaturally long arms and huge hands, wearing what looked like a suit. The figure had an enormous grin that stretched across most of its face.
“Oliver,” I called out, trying to keep my voice casual as my fingers crinkled the edge of the paper. “Is this me in the picture? Who is this?”
My son looked up from his LEGOs, his blue eyes bright with excitement.
An excited boy with a bright smile | Source: Midjourney
The plastic blocks clattered as he dropped them onto the hardwood floor. “That’s Mr. Smiles, Daddy! He’s Mommy’s new friend. He comes to see her when you’re at work.”
My heart skipped a beat. Laura and I had been married for nine years. We’d had our ups and downs like any couple, weathered job changes and family losses, and celebrated promotions and birthdays. But never, not once, did I think she’d…
No, I shook the thought away. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Laura wasn’t that kind of person. We’d built too much together.
A concerned man holding a paper | Source: Midjourney
“When does he come over?” I asked, proud of how steady my voice remained despite the tremor in my hands.
Oliver stacked another block on his tower, his tongue poking out in concentration.
“Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes at night. He always makes Mommy and me laugh.” He glanced up, suddenly serious, his small face scrunching with the weight of importance. “But, Daddy, it’s a secret! Don’t tell anyone!“
An emotional man standing in a living room | Source: Midjourney
The mention of laughter and secrecy felt like ice in my stomach.
That night, I barely slept, watching Laura’s peaceful face in the darkness. The steady rhythm of her breathing, once comforting, now felt like a taunt. Every time she shifted in her sleep, I wondered what she was dreaming about. Who she was dreaming about.
The next day, I left work early, parked down the street from our house, and waited. The fall air grew crisp as the afternoon wore on, and fallen leaves skittered across my windshield. A little after 3 p.m., a sleek black car pulled into our driveway.
A black car parked in a driveway | Source: Pexels
A tall, wiry man stepped out and marched up to the front door. Even from this distance, I could see his broad smile when Laura welcomed him inside. The door closed behind them.
I gripped my steering wheel until my knuckles turned white; the leather creaking under my fingers.
“Maybe this is all in my head,” I whispered to myself, watching my breath fog the window. “But if I’m wrong, I need to know for sure.”
A man sitting in a car | Source: Pexels
Over the next few weeks, I started buying Laura flowers and gifts, trying to rekindle our bond, but I also began documenting everything.
The evidence piled up: receipts for dinners I didn’t attend, calls she’d leave the room to take, and, of course, more pictures of “Mr. Smiles” drawn by Oliver. Each new piece of evidence felt like another brick in a wall being built between us.
Laura noticed the change in me.
A woman staring at her husband during dinner | Source: Midjourney
“Are you feeling okay?” she asked one day, touching my forehead with concern. “You seem distracted lately.”
The genuine worry in her voice only confused me more. How could she act so normal if she was hiding something so huge?
“I… do you have someone else?” I asked.
“Someone else?” Laura stared at me with wide eyes, then shook her head.
A woman looking at her husband with wide eyes | Source: Midjourney
“Of course not, honey!” She let out a little chuckle. “How could you think that?”
Maybe I should’ve confronted her then, but all my evidence was circumstantial. I needed cold, hard proof.
One Friday evening, I told Laura I’d be working late. Instead, I set up a hidden camera on the bookshelf in the living room and watched the feed from my car parked around the corner.
A bookshelf in a living room | Source: Pexels
The screen of my phone cast a blue glow across my face as I waited, my coffee growing cold in its cup holder.
Right on schedule, Mr. Smiles arrived, and Laura greeted him with that same warm smile that used to be reserved for me.
But then something strange happened. He didn’t settle on the couch or share a private dinner. Instead, my sister walked in, and Oliver came bounding down the stairs with a beaming smile. More people arrived: neighbors and friends!
A man looking at his phone in confusion | Source: Midjourney
They all knew about this? And worse, they were having a secret get-together! I watched in stunned silence as Mr. Smiles, now wearing a festive party hat, juggled three oranges for Oliver and made him laugh.
“What the heck is going on?” I muttered, fumbling with my car door.
Rage and confusion propelled me toward the house. The evening air felt thick and heavy as I stormed up our front walk. I burst through the front door, making everyone freeze mid-conversation, the cheerful music cutting off abruptly.
A group of people in a living room staring at someone in surprise | Source: Midjourney
“Alright, you won,” I said, my voice trembling. “Everyone here knew, didn’t they? Even Oliver? Even my sister?”
“No, no! Please, stop!” Laura’s face had gone pale, her hands clutching a roll of streamers that cascaded to the floor.
I turned to Mr. Smiles, who had stopped juggling and was staring at me with wide eyes.
“You’ve disrespected me as a man, and you’ve got no business being here! It’s my house! It’s my…”
My voice trailed off as I spotted something shiny on the floor.
A man speaking angrily to someone | Source: Midjourney
A banner, not yet hung, with golden letters that read “Happy 10th Anniversary!” The metallic paper caught the light from our living room lamps, throwing sparkles across the ceiling.
The room went completely silent. Laura’s hands covered her mouth, tears welled in her eyes, and she smudged her carefully applied makeup. Mr. Smiles cleared his throat and stepped forward, his famous grin nowhere to be seen.
“Sir, I think there’s been a misunderstanding,” he said softly, his professional demeanor never wavering. “I’m a wedding planner and party animator. Your wife hired me months ago to plan this event — your wedding anniversary!”
A man speaking in a living room | Source: Midjourney
“You thought I was cheating on you?” Laura’s voice cracked with hurt and disbelief, each word falling like a stone between us.
I felt the floor shift beneath my feet. The room suddenly seemed too bright, too crowded, the decorations garish and mocking.
“I… I didn’t know what else to think,” I stammered, my collar feeling too tight. “I saw him coming here, and Oliver said a man kept visiting while I was at work, that this man made you laugh…”
An emotional man looking confused and shocked | Source: Midjourney
“Oliver said he made me laugh because he does magic tricks for him when we plan,” Laura interrupted, her voice rising. “I was trying to do something special for you, and you thought I was unfaithful?”
My throat felt tight. “I’m sorry,” I managed to say, the words feeling inadequate. “I was wrong. I let my insecurities get the better of me.”
Laura wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, leaving a dark smudge of mascara. “How could you think that? After everything we’ve been through?”
An emotional woman speaking to her husband | Source: Midjourney
The party guests began quietly filing out, murmuring awkward goodbyes, their shoes shuffling across our carpet.
My sister squeezed my shoulder as she left, whispering, “Fix this.” Oliver looked confused and scared, so Laura’s mother took him upstairs to his room, their footsteps echoing in the tense silence.
When we were finally alone, Laura sat on the couch, her shoulders slumped. The streamers lay in tangles around her feet.
An upset woman sitting on a sofa | Source: Midjourney
“I spent months planning this,” she said quietly. “I wanted it to be perfect. Remember our first anniversary? When you surprised me with that picnic in the park? I wanted to do something just as special.”
I sat beside her, careful to leave space between us, the cushions dipping under my weight. “I ruined everything.”
“Yes, you did.” She turned to look at me, her eyes red but fierce. “Trust isn’t just about believing in someone when everything’s perfect. It’s about believing in them when things don’t make sense.”
“I know,” I whispered, feeling the weight of my mistake. “I forgot that somewhere along the way. Can you forgive me?”
A couple having a serious conversation | Source: Midjourney
Laura was quiet for a long moment, her fingers tracing patterns on the fabric of her dress.
“I love you,” she said finally. “But this isn’t something I can just get over. You need to understand how much this hurts.”
I nodded, feeling tears start to fall. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”
“It won’t happen overnight,” she warned, her voice stern but not unkind.
A stern-looking woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
“I know. But I’m not going anywhere.” I reached for her hand, and after a moment’s hesitation, she let me take it, her fingers cool against my palm. “Happy anniversary,” I said softly.
She gave a watery laugh that held both forgiveness and reproach. “Happy anniversary, you idiot.”
Upstairs, we heard Oliver laughing at something, probably one of his grandmother’s stories. The sound filled our living room, reminding us of all we had to lose, and all we had to save.
A couple in a living room glancing upwards | Source: Midjourney
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.
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