Four years ago, I, Female 28 got married to my wonderful (or so I thought) husband Male 31 John. He was the kind of man you'd see go viral for his green flags on tiktok, make the news for a good samaritan act, walk the old lady down the street - you get the gist. Our marriage life was nothing but literal bliss for the years we've been together. I birthed two amazing boys for this man and I'm going to be a mother to a baby girl this june. When I say I was with John from the beginning of his career, I MEAN IT. Back when his start-up was a 113 sq ft rented rooftop room under a coffee shop in the boondocks of new york, I was the one bringing him his lunch during the break time of MY 9-5, printing his business flyers with my company printer when we were strictly warned not to because he couldn't afford one, and I was the only person who financially supported him through all of this while earning minimum wage. Thankfully, two years went by and some start-up investor mogul cashed out enough money for John to establish his business and turn it into the multi-million company it is today. I could not have been happier for him, truly.

Fast forward to yesterday morning, John had to rush early to the office because of a software malfunction and forgot to take his lunch with him. Our marriage life had been, quite dull for the past few months due to his busy schedule so I thought I'd drop by to give it to him, in his favourite outfit, wearing the perfume he said he loved on me, and to top it all off, a cake that said "I will always be proud of you, babe".

Well. I guess I missed the memo because once I'd entered his office, someone had already beat me to it. There I saw John groping and making out with the fucking secretary that I'd hired for him. I know this sounds cliche, but I dropped the cake. I've never felt numb before - you grow up in an environment where you're expected to take care of all the people in your life, and no adversity will stop you. But this was John. John was my everything. Luckily, no one was at the employee quarters to see me cry ugly tears as they just kept going at it like a 365 days scene. I quickly welled myself up, and left through the door right away. After I drove back home, John had sent me a message saying that he wouldn't be able to come home early that day due to the software malfunction still troubleshooting. It had been fixed when I got there. I replied back saying that I'm going to be going on an early holiday by myself for some "me-time" and that I'll be leaving the kids with my mom. He didn't think this was odd since we both take spontaneous sabbaticals to relax sometimes.

During the 7 days I took off to come to terms with the situation, I understood that our marriage was ruined. But after all that I've poured into it, I would not leave empty-handed. I've talked to lawyers about divorce and I'm in the process of filing certain documents before I break the news to him. While I was drowning myself in tequila on the 6th day of this sabbatical, I don't know what went over me but I swooped into this frenzy and started crying right at the tiki bar and had all the foreign tourists look at me like I'm mentally ill. I woke up to 4 bar employees over me concerned for my well-being. I have NEVER felt this vulnerable before. This was my end-point. The next day I'd sobered up and woken to a message from my Mother-in-law calling us for the annual reunion we have. All of my ex-husband's family lives abroad and it's beyond difficult trying to get us all together at one place so we hold these yearly reunions that are mandatory for all of us to attend.

My husband and I used to have a tradition of always pulling some sort of prank when we visit. Be it something simple like coming to the reunion with a balloon inside my shirt to fake a pregnancy, then it popping by accident infront of all of them, or filling people's glasses with grape juice instead of wine and telling them it's a 1990 vintage bottle made by the doyennes of winery to see if they get drunk by the placebo effect. I was reminded of a trend that went viral before on social media of people buying these fake sugar beer bottles and pranking their family and friends by smashing it on their heads. I was quick to notify John about the "plan" and he was equally as excited. I showed him amazon screenshots of a 12 pack of these fake beer bottles and tiktoks to recreate of the prank, all while I finished 2 budweisers, cleaned the bottles, and switched them out for the pack of fake ones.

I know what you're thinking, say I do pull this off, his whole family might as well call the police on me, turn this whole thing over, and I'd be spending a good 2 years in Prison. However on my part, John has been dealing with Bipolar Disorder ever since he diagnosed at 14 years old. Even now he has manic episodes and starts trashing the place and rolling up into a ball whenever he does it. Mind you, every single time he has a scare, I'd be right next to him repeating safe words, reassuring him that all will be okay, and taking care of all his medication and business throughout the next few days so he can get back to his sane self. This meant that once I smash those bottles on his head infront of every single person in his living bloodline, I could go full damsel in distress and say, "John... Don't tell me you- you switched two fake bottles for real ones?" in this mutter of a voice. And so I did.

Come the day where we all gather. John and I are matching in beige, while the children wear red and yellow. His family members are vigilant and keep teasing us about what this year's prank is gonna be. I just keep telling everyone the same thing. "This one is all John!". He's always been one for the spotlight, so he didn't spare a second telling aunt to kid that this whole prank was orchastrated by him and that they'd be in for such a treat (The only satisfaction he's given me in years).

After we all finish eating his mom's special lasagne dinner, John and I settle at the dining table with the others and start up a conversation that (as we planned) will end with us getting rough and throwing table cloths at eachother. I escalate this by kicking a stool to his foot, and he kicks it back even harder, so I stomp on over to my bag and reach for the "sugar glass" beer bottle.

"THOMP" rang through the entire room. John's family's faces that were filled with smirks ran cold after realizing that this supposed predictable prank was nothing that they'd expected. John stood there with one eye open and a gush of blood running from his forehead, trying to piece atleast part of the situation. That's when I dropped my one-liner. "John... You didn't"

"Please don't tell me you relapsed"

"How could you John? Why would you hurt yourself?"

Everyone knew by then what had truly went down, and as I dramatically dropped the bottle in my hands - it shattered into copious amounts of coarse glass. All of his female cousins had made a circle around me and comforted me, saying things like "it'll be okay" and "don't cry". John's dad had put his disheveled, hysteric, and crying son on his shoulder, and his mom phoned the Psych Ward he frequently visited as a teenager. The paramedics came by and rolled him into an ambulance for further care. I heard the EMT say something about a “disassociative episode,” and his mom muttered “it must be the stress.”

Sure. Stress.

Now he’s on a 72-hour psychiatric hold, and I’m back home, sorting papers with my lawyer.

The real prank?
I don't know.

John, though?
He gets to tell the nurses how I smashed a bottle over his head and it felt like love.

The plan did go perfectly well. Too perfect even. But that doesn't take away the fact that I acted like an immature fucking 15 year old getting back at her frat boyfriend for picking jenny mcgee over her for prom. I have children, and a life that I put on hold for a month just to get back at my cheating husband who deserved nothing but a court case and a deposit of 15 million for my Emotional Distress damages.

I can't look at my older son's face as he asks me when daddy's going to be back from his trip in the white room knowing that he would be safe and sound at home if it weren't for my actions. Sometimes I wish I could have handled the situation better and not acted out of anger and vengeance.

I know all will go to plan for me after John comes back home. I'll break the news and see his face crumble knowing he'll lose his wife, but get on his knees and plead for me not to tell anyone of his disloyalty.

Why? Because John would trade one of my sons if that meant his reputation would be as clean as Keanu Reeves. I'll get my kids, my compensation, and my sanity, but I'm filled with so many emotions and second guesses of how there might be other drawbacks coming to get me.

I'll update everyone on here once I rip the band-aid off. Till then, could I please get some advice on If I was taking this too far? I appreciate you for reading this.