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.
A husband, after spending 17 years in marriage with Inna, decided to leave her for a young student, but he did not expect that his wife would give him a farewell
Inna stood by the window, watching as raindrops distributed the glass, forming whimsical patterns. Seventeen years – is that a lot or a little? She remembered every day of their marriage, every anniversary, every gifts. And now everything becomes collapsed.
“We need to talk,” Alexey said.
“I’m leaving, Inna. To Natasha.”
Silence. Only the ticking of the old wall clock, once gifted by his mother, broke the calmness of the room.
“To the student from your faculty?” Her voice sounded surprisingly calm.
“Yes. Understand, my feelings have changed. I want new emotions, fresh impressions. You’re a smart woman, you should understand.”
Inna smiled.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” Alexey said. “I’ve already packed my things.”
Then she approached the cupboard and recovered that special bottle they had kept for a special occasion.
“Well, I suppose this is a rather special moment,” she began to open the bottle. “You know, I propose we have a farewell dinner. Invite your friends, your relatives. After all, seventeen years is no joke.”
Alexey surprisingly said:
“You… you want to throw a party for our divorce?”
“Why not?” Inna smiled. “Let’s send our life together off in style. After all, I really am a smart woman, remember?”
She began to send messages to relatives and friends.
“Tomorrow at seven in the evening. I’ll prepare your favorite dishes. Consider it my farewell gift.”
Alexey stood there, not knowing what to say. He had predicted tears, nervousness, reproaches – anything but this calm acceptance.
“And yes, tell Natasha that she’s invited too. I want to meet the girl who managed to do what I couldn’t all these years – ignite a new spark in you.”
The next day began awfully early for Inna.
She carefully called banks, met with a lawyer, and prepared documents. Every action was prapared.
By the evening, their spacious apartment was full of the aromas of exquisite dishes. Inna set the table, organizing the finest dinnerware – a wedding gift from her mother-in-law.
“Everything must be perfect,” she muttered.
His mother, Vera Pavlovna, awkwardly grasped her daughter-in-law:
“Innochka, maybe there’s still a chance to change everything?”
“No, Mama. Sometimes you have to make the right choice and let go.”
Gradually, their friends started arriving.
“Come in, have a seat,” Inna directed them to the head of the table. “Tonight, you are the main characters of the evening.”
Once everyone was seated, Inna stood up, holding a glass:
“Dear friends! Today is a special day. We are gathered here to celebrate the end of one story and the beginning of another.”
She turned to Alexey:
“Lesha, I want to thank you for seventeen years together. For all the ups and downs, for the joys and sorrows we shared. You taught me many things. For example, that love can be very different.”
An awkwardwhisper ran through the room. Natasha played with a napkin, avoiding eye contact.
“And you also taught me to be attentive to details,” Inna continued. “Especially financial ones.”
She began laying out documents:
“Here’s the loan for your car, taken out on our joint account. Here are the tax arrears for your company. And this – particularly interesting – are the receipts from restaurants and jewelry stores over the past year. I suppose you were trying to impress Natasha?”
Alexey became pallid. Natasha abruptly lifted her head.
“But the most important thing,” Inna said as she retrieved the final document, “is our prenuptial agreement. Remember, you signed it without reading? There’s an interesting clause about dividing property in case of infidelity.”
The silence in the room became booming.
“The house is in my name,” Inna continued. “I’ve already blocked the accounts. And the divorce petition was filed last night.”
She turned to Natasha:
“Dear, are you sure you’re ready to tie your life to someone who has neither a home nor savings, but instead has considerable debts?”
“Excuse me, I need to leave,” Natasha said softly.
Vera Pavlovna refused:
“Lesha, how could you? We raised you differently.”
“Mama, you don’t understand…” Alexey began, but was disturbed by his father:
“No, son, you don’t understand. Seventeen years is no joke. And what did you destr0y it all for? For an af:fair with a student?”
The friends at the table remained soundless, avoiding each other’s gaze. Only Mikhail, Alexey’s best friend since school, quietly said loud:
“Lesha, you really screwed up.”
Inna continued standing, holding her glass.
“You know what’s the most interesting? All these years I believed that our love was unique. That we were like those old couples from beautiful stories who stayed together until the end. I turned a blind eye to your work delays, your strange phone calls, your new ties and shirts.”
She took a sip:
“And then I started spotting the receipts. Jewelry store, restaurant ‘White Swan’, spa salon… Funny, isn’t it? You were taking her to the same places where you once took me.”
Natasha returned but did not sit at the table. She stood in the doorway, clutching her purse:
“Alexey Nikolaevich, I think we need to talk. Alone.”
“Of course, dear,” he got up, but Inna stopped him with a gesture:
“Wait. I’m not finished yet. Remember our first apartment? That one-bedroom on the outskirts? We were so happy there. You said we needed nothing but each other.”
She smiled:
“And now look at you. Expensive suits, a fancy car, a young mistress… Only, here’s the catch – all of it was built on lies and debts.”
Natasha’s voice trembled, “you said we were divorced. That we lived separately. That you were going to buy us an apartment.”
“Natashenka, I’ll explain everything.”
A ringing silence tumbled the room.
Without saying a word, Natasha turned and ran out of the apartment. T
“Inna,” Alexey clutched his head, “why are you doing this?”
“Why?” she laughed.“How did you expect it to be? For me to cry, beg you to stay? To roll around at your feet?”
She scanned the room:
“You know what’s the most amusing? I truly loved him. Every wrinkle, every gray hair. Even his snoring at night seemed endearing to me. I was ready to grow old with him, to raise grandchildren.”
“Dear,” Vera Pavlovna whispered, “maybe it’s not worth it.”
“No, Mama, it is,” Inna raised her voice for the first time that evening. “Let everyone know. Let them know how your son took out loans for gifts for his mistresses. How he used our shared money. How he lied to me, to you, to everyone!”
She published another document:
“And this is especially interesting. Remember, Lesha, three months ago you asked me to sign some papers? You said it was for the tax office? It turned out to be a guarantee for a loan. You mortgaged my car, can you believe it?”
“Son,” Alexey’s father said heavily as he rose, “we’ll probably leave too. Call when… when you come to your senses.”
Vera Pavlovna grasped Inna:
“Forgive us, dear. We never thought he…”
“Don’t apologize, Mama. You have nothing to do with this.”
Alexey sat there. His expensive suit now seemed like a silly masquerade costume.
“You know, I could have done a month ago when I found out everything. I could have bought your car, torn up your suits, had a meltdown at your workplace.” Inna said.
“But I decided to do it differently,” she said.
“I’m flying out tomorrow. The Maldives, can you imagine? I’ve always dreamed of visiting there, but you always said it was a waste of money.”
She put the keys on the table:
“The apartment must be bought by the end of the week. I’m selling it. And yes, don’t even try to withdraw money from the accounts.”
Alexey looked at her with a sad expression:
“What am I supposed to do now?”
“That’s no longer my problem,” she said
“You know what’s the funniest part? I’m truly grateful to you. You made me wake up, shake off the dust. I suddenly realized that life doesn’t end with you.”
She walked to the door and turned around one last time:
“Goodbye, Lesha. I hope it was worth it.”
The door closed quietly. Alexey was left alone in the hollow apartment. Inna began a new trip which marked a first step of her new life.
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