I swapped my cheating husband’s lube for glue… and the firefighters had to pull them apart

A firefighter ran out and told Daniel:

— Chief, the smoke is under control. It was just a small oil fire, nothing serious.

But Daniel didn’t reply. I figured the young man was still in the bedroom, frozen by what he was seeing.

The neighbors started to arrive, crowding in front of the door, pointing and whispering.

— What’s happening?

— It’s Julian and his daughter-in-law! — a woman shouted, her voice full of amazement.

— Oh my God, how could this have happened? — another chimed in.

Mrs. Peterson, standing next to me, took out her phone and silently started recording, moving the camera closer to Julian and Allison, who were writhing in bed, their faces contorted with pain. She looked at me with eyes full of pity and anger.

— Juliet, you knew about this, didn’t you?

I didn’t answer. I just nodded softly without taking my eyes off the window.

Daniel came out of the bedroom. I heard the thud of his boots on the hardwood floor. Through the headset, I heard Julian shout in a raspy voice:

— Get everyone out of here! Close the door, Daniel!

But it was too late. The whole neighborhood was gathered, their faces showing disdain, their whispers sounding like a chorus of shame.

— Father-in-law and daughter-in-law caught in the act. Unbelievable, — a man exclaimed.

— Poor Juliet, how did it come to this? — another sighed.

The firefighters, after a moment of hesitation, had to act. They wrapped sheets around Julian and Allison, trying to cover their stuck-together bodies and carried them out on stretchers. I could hear Allison’s broken sobs mixed with her groans of pain.

— Please do something. I can’t stand it anymore.

Julian just mumbled weakly:

— Don’t let anyone see us.

But the whole neighborhood had already seen. There were looks of revulsion, mocking laughs and shakes of disappointed heads. They were carried out, wrapped in a thin sheet amidst the growing murmurs.

— What a disgrace. Father-in-law and daughter-in-law. My God, how filthy.

The crowd was still gathered at the entrance when the ambulance left with its siren blaring. Among the loud voices, I heard bursts of laughter.

— What a show! — shouted Mr. Miller. — I can’t believe there are two people so shameless in this world.

An old woman shook her head and whispered to the person next to her:

— Poor Juliet.

I stood among the people, pretending to be surprised, as if I had just run there from the bus station. Daniel stood motionless in the yard, his arms hanging, his face pale as a ghost. His teammates avoided looking at him and quietly gathered their tools.

I knew that Daniel wasn’t just shocked to see his father and his wife stuck together in bed, but by the double betrayal of the two people he loved most. I wanted to run and hug him, to tell him I was sorry for letting him see something like that. But I held back and walked behind Mrs. Peterson, who silently accompanied me to the hospital.

We sat in the third-floor hallway waiting, while I maintained the concerned look of a wife who had just found out her house had been on fire. Hours later, a doctor came out, sweat on his forehead. He looked at me and spoke in a low voice.

— Mrs. Roberts, we managed to separate them. Fortunately, there was no serious damage. They just need some skin ointment.

I nodded, pretending to be relieved, while my fingers discreetly brushed against my purse, where I had hidden two tubes of thick mustard I had prepared.

— Thank you, doctor, — I said, my voice trembling to hide my plans. — Can I see them?

He nodded and led me to the nurse’s station, where they gave me two tubes of ointment. The nurse, a young woman, looked at me with compassion.

— Ma’am, this is a very difficult situation. I’m so sorry.

I gave a weak smile, and the moment she turned around, I swapped the tubes for the mustard I had in my purse. My hands moved quickly and confidently, as if I had rehearsed it hundreds of times in my head.

I entered the hospital room with a tube of mustard in my hand, feigning concern.

— Julian? Allison? Are you okay?

Allison was in bed, her hair a mess, her eyes red, unable to look at me. Julian, still pale, mumbled:

— Juliet, I, I can explain.

But I didn’t let him continue. I placed the tube of mustard on the table next to the bed and left. Minutes later, a gut-wrenching scream came from the room. Allison was covering her face, crying.

— It burns! My skin is on fire!

Julian was writhing in bed, cursing.

— What the hell is this? Who did this?

The entire hallway was in an uproar. Patients and family members came out to look. An old woman whispered to her son:

— It’s them, the couple from the video this morning on the internet. The father-in-law with the daughter-in-law. What a disgrace.

Another added:

— They deserve it.

The doctor ran into the room, asking the nurses to clean their skin and apply a neutralizing agent. But the humiliation of Julian and Allison was already public, impossible to stop. Mrs. Peterson’s video of them being carried out on a stretcher had spread throughout the neighborhood and on social media. I was in the hallway, listening to the murmurs, feeling as if the whole world were witnessing the downfall of those two traitors.

When the crowd dispersed, Daniel entered the room with a thick folder in his hand. I had called him as soon as the ambulance left, asking him to get the envelope with the evidence I had saved in the drawer and the two divorce papers I had ready. He handed me the folder, his gaze empty, without saying a word.

I opened it, took out the documents, and placed them on the table in front of Julian and Allison. I looked at him directly in the eyes, my voice cold but firm.

— Forty years of marriage end here. Sign these, and then do whatever you want, as long as you disappear from my son’s life and mine.

Allison collapsed, crying, looking at Daniel.

— Honey, forgive me. I made a mistake. Please, I beg you, forgive me.

But Daniel just looked at her, his gaze as hard as stone, and left without saying a word. Julian tried to grab my hand, his voice trembling.

— Juliet, listen to me. I didn’t want this.

I pulled away, cutting him off.

— Don’t say anything else, Julian. You chose this path.

He yelled desperately:

— Juliet, please!

But the nurse came in and warned:

— Be quiet. This is a hospital.

I turned and walked away without looking back. In the hallway, I saw Daniel leaning against the wall, his head in his hands. I walked over and put my hand on his shoulder, but he didn’t lift his face.

— Mom, — he whispered, his voice broken. — Why did it have to be dad? Why her?

I didn’t answer. I just hugged him tightly, sharing his pain with my own. In that moment, I knew that Julian and Allison had lost everything—their honor, their marriage, even their dirty plan. But Daniel and I had also lost a family. I only hoped that with time, we would find peace.

A few weeks after the scandal, my bakery was busier than ever. The little bell on the door wouldn’t stop ringing. Customers came in and out with smiles and compliments.

— Juliet, you are so strong, — Mrs. Peterson said, holding a bag of freshly baked flan. — The whole neighborhood is proud of you for how you defended your family business amidst all that filth.

I smiled and thanked her. People supported me. They called me a strong woman, but only I knew that strength came from the broken pieces of my heart. Every time I looked at the oven where I had worked with sweat and tears for 40 years, I remembered Julian and Allison, who wanted to take everything from me, but failed.

And I’m still here with my bakery, with Daniel, and with a new life.

Daniel moved in with me right after that day. He didn’t talk much about what had happened, but I noticed the change. He wasn’t the cheerful, always laughing Daniel he used to be. His eyes now looked deep, as if they carried a wound that wouldn’t heal.

— Mom, I want to stay here for a while, — he told me the first night as he came in with his suitcase. — I’m going to help you run the bakery. Talk to clients, whatever you need.

I hugged him. I felt the warmth of the son I had raised, and just nodded without asking anything. I knew Daniel needed time, and so did I.

Every morning, we opened the bakery together. I prepared the oven and arranged the trays, and Daniel reviewed invoices and called hotels and restaurants.

— Mom, the Grand Hotel wants to increase their sweet pastry order for next week, — he called out to me from the cash register, his voice calm, but without its usual brightness.

— All right, — I replied. — Confirm the order. I’ll prepare more dough.

These simple moments gave me a peace I hadn’t felt in years. There were no more fake looks from Julian, no more sweet and calculating voice from Allison. It was just Daniel and me, taking care of what we still had.

Dinners were just the two of us now. We sat face to face in the small kitchen, eating simple meals, sometimes rice with beans and chicken, sometimes just bread with coffee.

— Mom, can you make me some flan this weekend? — He asked me one night with a faint smile, the first I had seen since the scandal.

— All right, — I replied, relieved. — But you have to help me stir the caramel.

He nodded, and in that moment, I felt that we were slowly but surely recovering.

I started making time for myself, something I almost never did in 40 years. I joined a cooking club at the community center where women my age shared recipes and told their stories.

— Juliet, you make the best flan in the neighborhood, — a woman told me laughing when I brought a tray.

I replied, smiling:

— It’s a little trick I learned back in San Diego.

I also started going to church on weekends. I would sit in silence with the light of the stained glass windows on my face and pray, not for Julian or Allison, but for Daniel, for myself, so that we would find the strength to move forward.

Sometimes I would go for walks with Mrs. Peterson in the town square, listening to her talk about neighborhood gossip.

— You know, Juliet, — she would say, her eyes shining, — everyone is still talking about Julian and Allison, but they say you’re the one who won.

I just smiled without answering. I won? Maybe, but the price was losing my whole family.

Daniel also started to change. He became less quiet and began telling me about his work as a firefighter.

— We put out a fire at the market yesterday, — he told me one night as we ate dinner. — It was really dangerous, Mom, but luckily, no one got hurt.

I listened to him, my heart filled with pride.

— Please be careful, — I said, my voice trembling. — You’re all I have left.

Daniel looked at me with tenderness.

— Don’t worry, Mom, I’ll never leave you alone.

Those words were like medicine. They gave me back the faith that even though I had lost so much, I still had my son, who would always be with me.

One afternoon, while the bakery was full of customers, I sat at the cash register, watching the movement in the street. The bell on the door rang nonstop. The smell of sweet bread filled the air. I looked at the trays of flan and pastries and thought about the entire journey. I had built this bakery with my own hands, from a girl in San Diego to a woman who knew how to endure.

Julian and Allison wanted to take everything from me, but failed. I kept my bakery, I kept Daniel, and most importantly, I kept myself.