Working nights at the motel wasn’t part of my plan, but I wanted to give my son the birthday he deserved. My husband was supposed to be on another business trip—or at least, that’s what I thought—until his name appeared in the motel guest book. What I did next would shock everyone.
I was stirring a pot of cheap noodles from the dollar store with one hand while leaning over to help my eight-year-old, Liam, spell “astronomer.”
He’d been obsessed with space since he was five, ever since he’d seen his first shooting star. Every night, he dragged me outside to point out constellations he’d memorized from library books. He was fascinated by planets, black holes, and astronauts. It was no surprise he’d chosen a space-related profession for his homework task, “What I Want to Be When I Grow Up.”
“A-S-T-R…” Liam chewed the eraser on his pencil, squinting at the page.
“O-N-O-M-E-R,” I finished, reaching over to ruffle his dark hair. “Good job, buddy. You’re going to be a great astronomer one day.”
The front door creaked open just as I lifted the pot off the stove.
Trevor dropped his gym bag by the door and walked straight to the couch without so much as a hello. He didn’t even glance at Liam.
I approached slowly, careful. You learn to move carefully around men like Trevor. His moods were like thin ice—one wrong step, and you’d sink.
“I found the perfect gift for Liam’s birthday,” I said, keeping my voice soft. “There’s a pawnshop near the diner with a telescope. It’s still pricey, but the owner offered me layaway.”
Trevor didn’t look up. He grabbed the remote and started flipping channels like I wasn’t even there.
“What do you think?” I pressed on. “$20 deposit, ninety days to pay. I’m sure we can manage—”
“We don’t have money for fancy toys,” Trevor cut me off, his tone sharp.
“But we can make it work, Trevor, and it would mean so much to him. You know how much he loves space…”
Trevor rolled his eyes. “For now. But next year, he might want to be a firefighter. Are you going to layaway a fire truck for him then, huh, Maya?”
I flinched at the casual bite in his words, but I wasn’t giving up.
“What about all the business trips you’ve been on? You told me your boss said he’d give you a small bonus for them.”
Trevor dropped the remote and stood abruptly. “Do you have to nag about everything? I told you it won’t work, so just give it up already! You have no idea how the real world works. You’re just a waitress.”
Just a waitress. I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to snap back. It wasn’t just that he’d called me a waitress, as if my job at the diner made me less than human—it was that he ignored all the work I did at home too. Men like Trevor never see that as work.
He stormed off, muttering under his breath. There was no convincing him to buy the telescope. As usual, I’d have to make it work myself.
Liam and I ate dinner together, and Trevor wandered in later, took his food, and sat down on the couch. I know it sounds awful that we didn’t eat together, but at least dinner was peaceful.
Later that evening, after putting Liam to bed, I stepped outside to make a phone call.
“Hi, yes, it’s Maya,” I said. “I can cover those night shifts after all. Starting tomorrow.”
A friend had recently offered me a temporary job at a motel. The pay wasn’t great, but it was enough to get Liam his telescope.
Rain pounded against the motel windows like it was trying to break in. It was my second night working there, and Trevor had no idea. He’d left on another “business trip” the morning after our argument, and I hadn’t bothered to tell him about my side job.
What was the point? He’d probably insist we spend any money on something he wanted, like a new gaming console.
I was wiping down the reception desk when I moved the guest ledger aside—and my blood ran cold.
Trevor was booked into Room 12. Not a coincidence. I checked the phone number listed next to the name—it was his.
I flipped back a few pages, heart hammering. Two weeks ago, during his last “business trip,” he had booked a room here. I went back a month, then two, all the way to May, when his trips supposedly started. Every single one had been here.
I sank into the receptionist’s chair in shock. Trevor had been lying about work. He’d been staying in a cheap motel near the city, probably wasting money while he told me we couldn’t afford a telescope.
Whatever he was doing, I was going to catch him—and make him pay.
Near the end of my shift, I slipped outside, hiding in the shadows by the vending machine. Room 12’s light glowed softly behind closed curtains.
Eventually, the door opened. Trevor stepped out, laughing, arm around a woman in a short red coat. They walked like pros, like they’d done this dance a hundred times before. He kissed her the way he used to kiss me—before the cold had taken over.
But it wasn’t just another woman that froze my blood—it was her. Sarah, his boss’s wife. I’d met her at the company Christmas party last year: blonde, perfect smile, the kind of woman who never worried about groceries or birthday presents.
I stood there, watching my marriage die in real time. But I felt something unexpected—not heartbreak, not devastation, but relief.
Now I knew why Trevor had been distant and cruel. It wasn’t me. It was him being a liar.
I walked back to my car, mind racing. My marriage was over—but I wasn’t going down without a fight.
Trevor had Room 12 booked for one more night. One day. One chance to ruin him.
The next day, I arrived at the motel hours before my shift. I waited until the housekeeper left and Room 12 was empty. Then I let myself in with the master key.
I climbed onto a chair, unscrewed the air vent above the bed, and pulled out Liam’s old baby monitor, the one with the camera we’d used when he was little. I angled it toward the bed and hit record. Insurance, I called it.
Then I grabbed a grocery bag of trash I’d collected from the dumpster behind the takeaway next door. I tucked it under the bed where it would be impossible to miss. Perfect.
I pulled the sheets back and left only the bottom sheet stretched across the mattress. Then, using my red lipstick—the one I never wore anymore—I scrawled across the white fabric: CHEATER.
I capped the lipstick and smiled for the first time in months.
“Let’s make this unforgettable,” I whispered to the empty room.
Before leaving, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to a number I hadn’t dialed in years. The final piece was in place.
I slipped out and waited in my car, engine off.
Around eight, Trevor’s car pulled in. Sarah stepped out first. They laughed, completely unaware of what awaited them.
I waited until they shut the door, then crept close enough to listen through the thin walls. For a few minutes, only the TV and murmured conversation. Then Sarah’s voice, sharp with disgust:
“Ugh. What is that smell?”
I pressed closer to the wall, stifling giggles. A few minutes later, gravel crunched as another car arrived—a sleek black sedan. David, Trevor’s boss and Sarah’s husband, got out, frowning.
I hurried to meet him. Recognition dawned slowly.
“You’re Maya, right? Trevor’s wife? You texted me?”
“I did. I thought it would be best if you saw this for yourself.”
“Saw what?”
“What your wife gets up to with my husband.”
Before he could reply, Sarah’s furious voice carried out:
“What the hell is this? ‘CHEATER’? Trevor, what kind of sick joke is this?”
I held out the key to Room 12.
David nodded, took the key, and unlocked the door.
Inside, Trevor stood with his pants halfway on, looking like a deer caught in headlights. Sarah clutched a towel, horror on her face. The room reeked—garbage, cheap cologne, floral air freshener.
David stared at them. Finally:
“My wife. And my employee.”
Trevor stammered. “It’s not… this isn’t… she set us up! Maya, she…”
I didn’t even look at him. I walked to the vent, pulled out the baby monitor, red light blinking.
“I’ll see you in court,” I said.
David looked from the monitor to Trevor, then back to Sarah.
“You’re fired,” he said, calm but deadly. “Effective immediately.”
Trevor tried to speak again. “It’s not what it looks like…”
“Oh,” David said. “It’s exactly what it looks like.”
I walked out with the baby monitor in my purse, head held high. The fight was over—but I’d won more than revenge. I’d won my freedom.
The following week, I took the money from my night shifts and bought Liam that telescope. Just the two of us, we set it up in the backyard. That night, we looked at Jupiter’s moons, talking and laughing.
I had lost a husband, but I had gained so much more.