My Husband Displayed a Poster of His Ex-Wife in Our Kitchen to Encourage My Weight Loss — I Ensured He Regretted It

When I entered the kitchen, I was stunned to find a poster of my husband’s ex-wife fixed to our fridge. What began as his twisted way of “encouraging” me quickly evolved into a scheme that deeply made him regret his actions.

That morning, after a restless night with our baby Ava, I felt utterly exhausted. I stumbled into the kitchen, longing for a quiet moment with my coffee.

However, what greeted me on the fridge stopped me cold — a large photo of Monica, Eric’s ex-wife, was taped prominently on it.

“Morning, babe,” Eric called out, not even lifting his eyes from his phone.

“Don’t call me babe. What on earth is this?” I demanded, pointing at the photo, my voice shaking with emotion.

He looked briefly at the poster, then back at me, nonchalantly. “Just some motivation for you. So you remember what a real woman is supposed to look like.”

His audacity left me speechless with rage. I stood there, unable to form words, while he nonchalantly sipped his coffee.

“You can’t be serious, Eric,” I finally whispered, barely audible.

He just shrugged, dismissive. “Thought it might help. Get you back in shape. For your own good.”

I left the kitchen to hide my tears. Ava’s cries from the living room snapped me back to reality, a constant reminder of my daily grind of caregiving.

Later, as Ava slept, I mulled over Eric’s cruel words. He needed to understand the extent of his insensitivity. That’s when an idea took shape.

I looked up Monica’s number. We were not close, but polite enough from a few encounters. After a moment’s hesitation, I dialed her number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Monica. It’s Jane. I… I need your help.”

After a pause, Monica responded, “Jane? What’s happening?”

I explained everything from my sleep-deprived nights to the degrading poster. She listened silently and then, after a pause, expressed her disbelief and asked how she could assist.

“That’s horrendous,” she exclaimed. “What do you need from me?”

“I want you to come and stay with us for a bit. I want Eric to experience living with his ‘ideal’ woman again,” I proposed.

Monica’s laugh was tinged with irony. “I’d love to. Let’s show him his own medicine.”

We planned her stay. Monica would move in temporarily while I took Ava to my parents’. On the day, as I packed our bags, Eric arrived home, confused at the sight.

“What’s happening?” he asked, seeing the bags.

“We’re visiting my parents for a few days,” I explained, maintaining composure. “You can manage, right?”

His confusion deepened, but before he could respond, the doorbell rang. Monica entered, suitcase in tow, catching Eric off-guard.

“Monica?” he stuttered.

“Hey, Eric,” Monica greeted with a smirk. “Jane invited me to stay.”

Puzzled, he looked at us. “What’s this about?”

“Just thought you might enjoy the company,” I replied, kissing Ava goodbye. “See you in a few days.”

Leaving Eric dumbfounded with Monica, I felt a surge of triumph as I drove away.

This plan was essential. I needed Eric to see the cruelty of his actions, to feel the sting himself.

And maybe, just maybe, it would make him realize that love and respect were more important than any superficial standard he had set.

Monica planned to be the guest from hell — messy, critical, and demanding — everything Eric claimed he wanted. Hopefully, this would make him regret ever putting up that poster.

As Ava and I drove in silence, my mind replayed Eric’s shocked face when Monica arrived. This had to be the wake-up call he needed.

The next morning, Eric woke to a surprising scene — Monica, making coffee and a mess in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” she chirped as if nothing was amiss.

“Monica? What are you still doing here?” Eric’s confusion was apparent, likely hoping it was all a joke.

“This is no joke,” she smiled sweetly. “Didn’t you get the memo? I’m here for a bit.”

Eric was left speechless as Monica dominated the space, leaving chaos in her wake and critiquing his every move.

By the second day, Eric’s frantic calls filled my voicemail, each one more desperate than the last, begging me to return.

Sitting in my childhood bedroom, I felt a mix of satisfaction and sadness. His desperation was a sign he was starting to grasp the depth of his mistake.

My parents supported me, reminding me of my worth and to make decisions best for Ava and myself.

Deciding it was time, I returned home, anxious to confront Eric and see if real change was possible. When I entered, the house was in disarray, and Eric looked defeated but relieved to see me.

“Jane, I’m so sorry,” he started, his voice breaking. “I’ve been such a fool.”

“It’s not just about the poster, Eric. It’s about respect,” I said firmly. “I need to know you respect who I am, not just what you want me to be.”

He nodded earnestly. “I understand now. Monica helped me see my mistake. I don’t want to lose you. I’ll do anything.”

We discussed what I needed from him — respect, partnership, genuine support. Eric finally listened, promising to change for the better.

Over the following weeks, he lived up to his promises, taking on more responsibilities at home and showing genuine care for my well-being.

One evening, we gathered in the living room, a new family photo replacing the offensive poster. It was a simple gesture but significant.

“We’re in this together,” Eric said, embracing me. “I love you, Jane, for who you are.”

Watching Ava play, I felt a renewed hope for our future. We were moving forward, stronger and united by genuine love.

What would you have done in this situation?

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