PART 1
My husband, Derek, and I had been married for seventeen years when Vanessa moved next door.
She was recently divorced, beautiful, confident, and at first, I felt sorry for her.
I brought her a pie, helped her unpack, and invited her over for coffee.
That was my mistake.
Within weeks, she started finding excuses to come over whenever Derek was home.
A broken cabinet. A heavy package. A lightbulb she “couldn’t” change.
Then one afternoon, while Derek was at work, Vanessa smiled at me across my kitchen table.
“I’m going to take your husband.”
I thought she was joking.
She wasn’t.
“You should start preparing for divorce. Men get bored after that many years.”
After that, she stopped pretending.
She wore low-cut tops around Derek, leaned over our fence to talk to him, brought him homemade cookies, and touched his arm whenever she could.
Derek always stepped away.
Then Vanessa announced a big backyard barbecue for the neighborhood.
She invited Derek.
Not me.
When he showed me the invitation, he frowned.
“I’m not going.”
I smiled.
“Actually, I think you should.”
He stared at me, confused, but I already had a plan.
Half an hour after the barbecue started, I walked into Vanessa’s yard uninvited, carrying a large gift box.
The conversations around us slowly stopped.
Vanessa’s smile tightened.
“What are you doing here?”
“I brought the hostess a gift.”
I placed the box in front of her.
“Go ahead. Open it.”
With half the neighborhood watching, Vanessa lifted the lid, and the color drained from her face…