Ever since we announced my pregnancy, Avery—my husband’s female best friend—had been flooding us with advice we never asked for. And when she insisted on hosting my baby shower, that was it. I had reached my breaking point. I decided it was time to teach her a lesson she would never forget.
My husband Scott and Avery met years ago at work. He’s a food safety auditor, and she’s a nutritionist. Their jobs overlapped, and they clicked instantly. Over time, she became more than just his colleague; she became part of our social circle. At first, I liked her too. We bonded over music and careers, and she seemed fun. But everything changed the day Scott and I announced my pregnancy.
When we posted the news on social media, Avery was one of the first to comment. “Congratulations! You two are going to be amazing parents!” she texted Scott. It seemed sweet… but then came the flood of messages.
Every single day, she sent him long texts about what I should eat, what vitamins I should take, what products we needed. It was exhausting.
One evening, Scott sighed and handed me his phone. “Jean, look at this. Avery sent another list of things we have to buy. She says we should switch to organic everything.”
I skimmed the message, and irritation burned in my chest. “Scott, she’s going overboard. We don’t need her telling us how to prepare for our baby.”
“I know,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s just trying to help. Do you want me to say something?”
“Just ignore it,” I said firmly. “She’s not the one having the baby. We are.”
But ignoring Avery only made things worse. Her messages got more frequent, more critical, almost obsessive. Publicly, she left cheerful comments on my posts, but privately, she texted Scott nonstop.
If I shared a photo of my lunch, she’d immediately message him: “Jean shouldn’t be eating that. She needs more folic acid.”
Another time, she texted: “Tell Jean to avoid caffeine entirely. It’s not good for the baby.”
Scott showed me the message, frustration written all over his face. “Can you believe this? I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”
I threw my hands up. “I can’t deal with her constant nagging. This is out of control.”
Weeks later, as I planned my baby shower with my mom and sister, Avery stuck her nose in again. She texted me out of nowhere: “Hey Jean! I would love to host your baby shower. I have so many great ideas!”
I clenched my teeth but typed a polite reply: “Thank you, Avery, but my mom and sister are already handling it. I appreciate the offer!”
The very next day, there was a knock at the door. I opened it and nearly choked on my breath—Avery stood there, arms loaded with decorations and a stack of papers.
“Surprise! I brought everything we need for the baby shower!” she announced, pushing her way inside like she owned the place.
“Avery, I told you—my mom and sister are planning it,” I said, struggling to stay calm.
But she ignored me. “Oh, but I have everything planned already! It’ll be perfect. Trust me, Jean, I know what’s best for you and the baby.” Her voice dripped with condescension.
She began spreading decorations across my dining table. “Look—I arranged a gluten-free, sugar-free cake. I picked eco-friendly party favors, and I even created a playlist of relaxing music for the baby!”
I stood there, stunned at her audacity. “Avery, I appreciate your effort, but this is really something my mom and sister want to handle.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Jean, you have to understand. I just want everything to be perfect. You deserve the best.”
That was it. I smiled, pretended to go along with her plans, but in my mind, a sharper plan was forming. If she wanted control, she was about to see what losing control felt like.
The day of the baby shower came. Avery had decorated our house beautifully—streamers, flowers, pastel colors, and her precious sugar-free cake. Through our home security camera app, I could see her proudly setting everything up. The only problem? Not a single guest arrived. The place was silent except for her carefully curated playlist.
Meanwhile, I was at a cozy café across town. My mom and sister had created a warm, intimate party with all the people I loved. Laughter filled the air, gifts piled up, and happiness wrapped around me like a blanket.
At one point, I took a Polaroid photo of the group, slipped it into a box with a single cupcake, and sent it off with a delivery guy.
Later, I checked the camera feed just in time to see Avery receiving the package. She opened it, stared at the cupcake and photo of us all smiling together, and then read the note I’d tucked inside: “We know you’re enjoying your dietary options, just wanted to share.”
Her face turned crimson. I could almost hear her scream. My phone buzzed with her incoming calls, but I ignored them and went back to enjoying my real baby shower.
That evening, after the café party, Scott and I came home to clean up. Just as we sat down, the doorbell rang. Avery stormed inside, her face twisted with rage.
“How could you do this to me?” she shouted. “I put so much effort into that shower, and you just abandoned it!”
I stood tall. “Avery, you crossed a line. This was supposed to be about celebrating our baby—not about you controlling every detail. We appreciate your intentions, but you need to respect our boundaries. And that means no more texts, no more advice.”
Her eyes widened. “Scott, you told her about all the messages?”
“Of course, I did,” Scott said firmly. “Why would I hide that from her?”
Avery’s expression crumbled. “I thought it would work…” she whispered.
“You thought what would work, Avery?” I pressed.
Her lip trembled, and then she blurted it out: “I thought if Scott followed my advice, it would make you angry. I thought it would cause a rift between you two.”
Scott looked horrified. “Why would you want that?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “Because I’ve been in love with you for years, Scott! I thought if I stayed close, maybe one day you’d see it too.”
Scott froze, then shook his head slowly. “Avery, I’m sorry. My heart belongs to Jean. It always has. You deserve someone who loves you back—but that person isn’t me.”
She reached for him desperately. “Please, Scott, just give us a chance! I can’t stand seeing you with her!”
He pulled away, his voice firm but gentle. “Avery, you need to let this go. If you can’t respect our marriage, you can’t be in our lives.”
Sobbing, she stumbled out of the house, her cries echoing down the street.
Scott wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?”
I nodded through my tears of relief. “I am now. Thank you for standing by me.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’ll always stand by you, Jean. You and our baby are my everything.”
That night, we talked for hours, promising to protect our family and set stronger boundaries. Months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby. Avery was no longer part of our lives, but Scott and I were stronger, closer, and more united than ever.
As I held our newborn in my arms, I knew one thing for sure—no matter what storms came our way, we would face them together.