Megan’s chaotic gala planning took an unexpected turn when she matched with a witty “MysteriousMovieGuy” on a dating app. Weeks of banter led to an invite to meet at the gala, but he declined, citing work. Little did she know, their worlds were about to collide most surprisingly.
Megan leaned back in her chair, pressing her fingers to her temples as the noise in the study room grew louder.
It was supposed to be a “think tank” session for the upcoming charity gala, but it had spiraled into chaos.
Papers were scattered across the table, coffee cups were dangerously close to spilling, and her friends were more interested in debating snack options than solving the real problem.
“Can we focus, please?” Megan groaned, her tone edged with frustration.
“The gala is in three weeks, and we still don’t have a keynote speaker. You know, the person who’s supposed to inspire the audience?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Sarah, sitting cross-legged in her chair, tapped her pen thoughtfully.
“What about that guy who wrote the book on workplace dynamics? He’s local and pretty well-known.”
Megan wrinkled her nose. “Too dry. We need someone engaging, someone who won’t put the audience to sleep.”
From the corner of the room, Liam snorted.
“Engaging, like you? Miss Overachiever herself?” He leaned back with a smug grin, clearly enjoying her irritation.
Megan shot him a withering look but didn’t respond. Instead, she reached for her phone, desperate for a distraction.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
A buzz on her screen caught her attention—a notification from the dating app she’d reluctantly joined a few weeks ago.
New match! Hello, you seem interesting. Tell me about the worst movie you’ve ever seen?
Megan’s lips twitched into a faint smile. She typed back without hesitation:
“Easy. That one where the dog talks like a frat boy. And you?”
The reply came almost instantly:
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“The one about the volcano and the cloud. Who thought that was a good idea?”
She chuckled, the tension in her shoulders easing as she read the response.
The conversation flowed effortlessly from there, pulling her into a world far removed from the chaos of the study room.
“What’s so funny?” Sarah asked, leaning over to peek at Megan’s phone.
“Nothing,” Megan said quickly, locking the screen and shoving the phone into her bag.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
But as the group continued their debate, Megan found her thoughts drifting back to the witty stranger on her screen.
For the first time that day, she felt herself relax, the weight of the gala temporarily forgotten.
Megan sat cross-legged on her couch, her laptop open but ignored as she scrolled through her messages with “MysteriousMovieGuy.”
Over the past few weeks, their chats had become her favorite part of the day.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
She’d found herself looking forward to his clever responses, hilarious take on bad movies, and the surprising depth he showed when talking about life.
She typed a quick message: “Pineapple on pizza is still a crime against humanity.”
The reply came seconds later. “Agreed. But we can all agree that garlic bread is sacred, right?”
Megan grinned, leaning her head back against the cushions. It was strange how easy it was to talk to him.
They’d swapped embarrassing childhood stories, debated their dream travel destinations (he wanted to hike the Andes; she dreamed of seeing the Northern Lights), and even created a ridiculous running joke about opening a “bad movie appreciation club.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Yet, despite all the banter and laughs, they hadn’t met in person. Megan didn’t mind at first—it felt like a fun escape from reality.
But now? Now, she wanted to meet him and see if their connection held up in the real world.
Picking up her phone, she typed out a bold message:
“Want to meet tonight? I’ll be at this fancy event, so it could be a fun surprise!”
She hit send before she could overthink it, her heart racing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The minutes ticked by. She checked her phone, refreshing the chat, her stomach twisting in nervous anticipation.
Finally, her phone buzzed. She opened the app to see his reply:
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I have a work obligation. Rain check?”
Megan sighed, the disappointment settling over her like a blanket. She stared at the screen, her mind racing with questions.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
What kind of “work obligation” did he have? Was he making an excuse?
Pushing those thoughts aside, she typed back:
“Of course. Good luck with work!”
Setting her phone down, Megan let out a long breath. Tonight would be busy enough with the gala.
Still, a small part of her wished he could’ve been there, even just to see if he was as wonderful in person as he was behind the screen.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
The College Ballroom buzzed with energy, the air filled with the hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses.
Megan moved gracefully between tables, her clipboard in hand, ensuring everything ran like clockwork.
The soft glow of the chandeliers cast a golden sheen over the crowd, reflecting off her sequined dress.
Despite the glamour and success of the evening, a faint disappointment lingered in the back of her mind.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Megan!” Sarah called from across the room. “The dessert table’s running low. Should we bring out the backups?”
“Go ahead,” Megan replied, offering a distracted smile. She glanced at her watch, wondering when the keynote speech would begin.
Near the bar, Liam leaned casually against the counter, sipping his drink like he had no care in the world. Megan made a beeline for him, her heels clicking on the polished floor.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Where’s the keynote speaker?” she asked, exasperation creeping into her voice.
Liam gave her one of his trademark smirks. “He’s here. Relax, you’ll love him.”
“Liam—” she started, but the emcee’s voice interrupted her.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome our keynote speaker, Chris!”
Megan turned toward the stage as polite applause filled the room. Her eyes widened as Chris stepped into the spotlight.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
He was tall, with a confident stride that exuded charisma. His sharp suit fit perfectly, and his easy smile was enough to disarm even the most skeptical guest.
Her breath hitched. There was something about the way he carried himself, his natural charm.
She didn’t recognize his voice but found herself captivated as he spoke. His humor was effortless, his anecdotes sharp and relatable.
The audience laughed and nodded along, hanging on his every word.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Megan’s heart raced, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint why.
There was something eerily familiar about him—his mannerisms, playful wit, and the way he used just the right amount of self-deprecation.
When Chris wrapped up his speech, the crowd was on its feet, applauding enthusiastically. Megan clapped along, her mind swirling with questions.
“See?” Liam said, nudging her arm. “Told you he was good.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Megan barely heard him. She was too busy trying to shake the strange feeling in her chest. Who was this guy, and why did he seem so… familiar?
The hum of conversation filled the air as the gala afterparty hit its stride.
Guests lingered around the ballroom, their laughter and chatter blending with the soft clink of glasses.
Megan, still buzzing from the night’s success, scanned the room. Her eyes landed on Chris, casually leaning against the bar, a half-empty glass in his hand.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Okay, Megan,” she muttered, gathering her courage. “Time to stop overthinking.”
Her heels clicked softly as she approached him. He didn’t notice her until she was just a few feet away.
“Great speech,” she said, offering a confident smile.
Chris turned, surprised, his expression quickly shifting to warm amusement. “Thanks,” he replied. “Glad you enjoyed it.”
“I’m Megan,” she said, extending her hand.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Chris,” he replied, shaking it firmly. His grip was steady, his demeanor calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.
“So,” Megan began, her tone light, “what’s a keynote speaker like you doing standing here all alone?”
Chris chuckled, gesturing to his phone.
“Actually, I’m not alone. I’m talking to someone.”
Megan’s curiosity got the better of her as her gaze drifted to his screen.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Her heart skipped a beat when she caught sight of the familiar text exchange. The last message read:
“Rain check?”
She froze, her breath catching.
“Wait… are you ‘MysteriousMovieGuy’?”
Chris’s eyes widened, realization dawning as he stared at her. “And you’re… MovieBuff123?”
For a moment, they both stood there, stunned. Then Megan let out a laugh, equal parts disbelief and amusement.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“You’re the guy I’ve been texting?” she said, her voice rising slightly.
“And you didn’t think to mention you were a keynote speaker?”
Chris grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Didn’t exactly come up. And you didn’t mention you were the gala organizer.”
Megan folded her arms, a playful smirk on her lips.
“Touché.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
They laughed, the tension between them easing into something warmer.
“So,” Chris said, setting his drink on the bar and leaning slightly closer, “what now? Still want that rain check?”
Megan tilted her head, pretending to consider. “How about dinner instead? You owe me for dodging me earlier.”
“Fair enough,” he said, his grin widening.
Megan’s mind buzzed with questions and possibilities as they left the bar. But for the first time that night, she wasn’t overthinking.
She was just… excited.
She realized that sometimes, the best surprises aren’t planned. Sometimes, life connects the dots in its own unexpected, beautiful way.
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My Husband Gifted Me a Christmas Present That Outraged Me – Next Year, I Plotted a Revenge
Some gifts warm the heart. My husband’s Christmas present? It ignited a fire of rage. I spent the next year plotting the perfect revenge, and when he unwrapped his gift, the look on his face was my real Christmas present.
Have you ever received a gift that made your stomach drop and your blood boil at the same time? I’m not talking about an ugly sweater or a fruit cake nobody wants. I mean the kind of present that makes you question if the person who gave it to you knows you at all. Or worse, if they even care. What my husband Murphy did one Christmas had me planning revenge for an entire year.
Presents under a Christmas tree | Source: Unsplash
Money was always tight in our household.
Murphy worked at the metal fabrication plant downtown, pulling double shifts that left his hands calloused and his back aching. He’d come home smelling of metal shavings and machine oil, proud of providing for our family but too tired to notice anything else.
Meanwhile, I cobbled together an income tutoring kids in math and watching the neighbors’ children, which wasn’t much but helped keep food on the table and the lights on. Between mortgage payments and growing teenagers, we pinched every penny until it screamed.
A woman putting a coin in a piggy bank | Source: Pexels
We had a mutual agreement about Christmas: we’d scrape together enough for presents for our girls and our parents, but nothing for each other. It worked for 16 years of our marriage until Murphy decided to change the rules without warning me first.
“Susan! Come here, I got something for you!” Murphy’s voice boomed through our small house one evening, ten days before Christmas.
The excitement in his voice made me drop the math worksheet I was grading for little Tommy, who still couldn’t quite grasp long division.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
I wiped my hands on my apron and walked into the living room.
There he stood, grinning like a kid who’d just found the cookie jar, with a massive box wrapped in sparkly paper that must have cost at least $5 a roll.
“What’s this about?” I asked, my heart racing.
The box was huge, nearly reaching my waist, and wrapped with unusual care for a man who typically considered tape and newspaper to be good enough for any package.
A huge gift box near a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“It’s your Christmas present! I know we don’t do this usually, but I wanted to do something special this year. Something big!”
“Murphy, we can’t afford—”
“Just wait till Christmas Eve, Sus! You’re gonna love it! I promise you’ve never gotten anything like this before.”
I had no idea how right he was.
A woman sitting on the couch and looking up | Source: Midjourney
Our daughters, Mia and Emma, peeked around the corner with their art supplies, giggling like they used to when they were little, not the teenagers they’d become.
“Dad’s been so secretive about it,” Mia whispered. “He wouldn’t even let us help wrap it!”
“He spent forever in the garage getting it ready, Mom!” Emma added, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
That should have been my first warning sign.
Two cheerful teenage girls smiling | Source: Pexels
For the next ten days, that box sat under our Christmas tree, taunting me. Every time I walked past it, I’d try to guess what could be inside.
Maybe Murphy had saved up all year for something special. Maybe he’d noticed me eyeing that velvety quilt in the store window, or remembered me mentioning how much I missed having a nice television set since ours broke last spring.
Sometimes I’d catch him staring at the box with this proud little smile, like he’d solved all the world’s problems with whatever was inside.
A man looking at something | Source: Midjourney
Christmas Eve arrived with a flurry of activity. Our girls were sprawled on the floor by the tree, while Murphy’s parents settled onto our worn couch that had seen better days.
His mother, Eleanor, kept shooting me knowing looks, while his father, Frank, nursed his usual cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey.
The room smelled of cinnamon and pine, thanks to the three cookie-scented candles I’d splurged on at the dollar store. Christmas carols played softly on our old radio. And outside, the neighbors’ lighting display cast multicolored shadows through our windows as I set a tray of brownies on the table.
A woman holding a wooden tray of brownies | Source: Pexels
“Open it, Mom!” Emma squealed. “It’s the biggest present under the tree! Even bigger than the one Dad got for Grandma!”
Murphy nodded encouragingly, his work boots tapping against the carpet in an excited rhythm. “Go ahead, Sus. Show everyone what Santa brought you.”
My fingers trembled as I unwrapped the paper, trying to savor the moment. The girls leaned forward, and I lifted the lid.
My heart stopped.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“A vacuum cleaner?” I whispered, staring at the box with its cheerful product photos showing all its “amazing features.”
“Top of the line!” Murphy beamed. “I already tested it in the garage… works like a dream! Gets all the metal shavings right up! Even does the corners!”
The girls exchanged glances before bursting into giggles. Eleanor pressed her lips together so hard they nearly disappeared, while Frank suddenly became very interested in the contents of his coffee mug, probably wishing he’d added more whiskey.
A vacuum cleaner on the floor | Source: Pexels
“Oh, and when you’re done with it in here,” Murphy added, still grinning like he’d just given me the crown jewels, “make sure to put it back in the garage. That’s where it’ll live most of the time. The suction on this baby is perfect for my workspace! No more metal dust anywhere!”
I fled to our bedroom, but Murphy followed, his heavy footsteps echoing behind me like thunder. I burst into tears as soon as he closed the door, the sound of Christmas carols mocking me from downstairs.
“A vacuum cleaner? Seriously? Your first Christmas gift to me in 16 years is a VACUUM CLEANER?”
A shocked woman covering her mouth | Source: Midjourney
“What’s wrong with that? It’s practical. Do you know how much these things cost? It’s top of the line!”
“Practical? You bought yourself a garage vacuum and wrapped it up as my Christmas present! You might as well have gift-wrapped a mop and bucket!”
“Don’t be dramatic, Susan. It’s for the whole family—”
“A $5 bracelet would have meant more! Just something that showed you thought of me as your wife and NOT your MAID! Something that said ‘I love you,’ not ‘Here’s another way to clean up after everyone!’”
An angry man frowning | Source: Midjourney
His face darkened, jaw clenching like it did when the bills came due.
“You’re acting like a spoiled princess. Remember where you came from. Your folks are farmers! Do they even know what a vacuum cleaner is?! At least I’m thinking about upgrading our home!”
“Get out!” I roared. “GET. OUT.”
“Fine,” he snapped, yanking the door open. “You’re being ridiculous. It’s a good gift! Most wives would be grateful! Because presents are something a family could use, not what you would want.”
An angry woman holding her head | Source: Pexels
That night, I slept on the couch, wrapped in rage and heartache. Through the thin walls, I could hear Murphy telling his parents I was being “selfish” about the whole thing.
Eleanor’s murmured response was too quiet to make out, but Frank’s grunt of disapproval came through clearly.
As I lay there in the dark, watching the neighbors’ Christmas lights dance across our ceiling, a plan began to form in my head. Revenge, they say, is a dish best served cold, or in this case, wrapped in glittery paper and waiting an entire year.
Christmas lights shining through a window curtain | Source: Unsplash
I smiled into the darkness, already calculating how much I’d need to save from my tutoring money to make it perfect.
The following Christmas, I invited every relative within driving distance. Aunts, uncles, cousins — anyone who might appreciate a good show.
Murphy grumbled about the expense until he spotted his gift under the tree. It was the biggest box of all, wrapped in paper that cost $10 a roll this time.
“What’s this?” he asked, eyes lighting up like a child’s.
“Just a little something special. You do so much for us, honey. I wanted this Christmas to be MEMORABLE!”
A huge gift box against the backdrop of a Christmas tree | Source: Midjourney
“Mom went shopping all by herself,” Mia chimed in. “She wouldn’t even tell us what it is! But she looked so happy when she came home.”
“Cost a pretty penny too,” I added, watching Murphy’s eyes grow wider.
He spent the next few days shaking the box when he thought no one was looking, like a kid trying to guess what Santa brought.
Christmas Eve arrived again. Our living room was packed with family, all eyes on Murphy as he approached his present.
Guests in a room | Source: Pexels
Aunt Martha perched on the armrest of the couch, while Uncle Bill and his three kids crowded around the fireplace.
Even cousin Pete, who never came to family gatherings, had shown up after I hinted there would be some “holiday entertainment.”
“Open it, Dad!” Emma urged, her phone ready to record the moment. “The suspense is killing everyone!”
A teenage girl smiling | Source: Pexels
The gift wrapper fell away. Murphy’s face went from excitement to confusion to HORROR as he stared at the industrial-sized case of toilet paper in the box.
It was premium four-ply, with “extra soft comfort” plastered across the box in cheerful letters, and “perfect for home AND workshop use!” printed in bold red.
“What is this?” he sputtered, “TOILET PAPER??”
A pile of toilet paper | Source: Unsplash
I stood up, channeling my best game show host voice.
“It’s premium four-ply toilet paper! Because Christmas isn’t about what we want, it’s about what the family needs. Right, honey? And this will be perfect for the bathroom AND your garage! I even got the industrial size, since you love practical gifts so much!”
Our daughters doubled over laughing. Aunt Martha choked on her eggnog. Uncle Bill slapped his knee so hard it echoed, while his kids collapsed in fits of giggles. Cousin Pete actually fell off his chair.
A young man sitting on a chair and laughing | Source: Pexels
“Who gives their husband toilet paper for Christmas?” Murphy’s face turned scarlet as he looked around the room full of amused relatives.
I smiled angelically. “Who gives their wife a vacuum cleaner?”
He stormed upstairs, muttering under his breath, while the family erupted in laughter and approval. Even Eleanor gave me a subtle high-five when no one was looking.
A furious man yelling | Source: Midjourney
“Well played, Susan,” Frank chuckled, raising his coffee mug in salute. “Well played indeed. Maybe next year he’ll think twice about ‘practical’ gifts.”
That was five years ago. Murphy hasn’t mentioned Christmas presents since, and “selfish” has mysteriously disappeared from his vocabulary.
But just in case he ever gets another bright idea about “practical” gifts, I keep a special shelf in the closet, ready for next year’s wrapping paper. Sometimes the best revenge isn’t served cold, it’s served with a bow on top, and maybe some premium four-ply toilet paper to wrap it in.
A roll of toilet paper wrapped in golden satin ribbon | 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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