After years in a marriage dominated by Mike’s fixation on material things, I finally agreed to let him take everything in our divorce. He was thrilled, believing he’d “won” with the house, car, and savings. What he didn’t know was that I had meticulously planned for this moment, and his so-called “victory” was all part of my strategy.

Leaving the lawyer’s office that day, I kept my head down, looking every bit the defeated ex-wife as the rain poured down. But inside, I was exhilarated. The second the elevator doors closed, a chuckle escaped, bubbling up like champagne. I couldn’t contain it—the plan was coming together perfectly. Mike thought he’d won. Little did he know the real twist was just beginning.

Just a few weeks earlier…

Mike and I hadn’t been happy for years. The relationship had long lost any real meaning, but it wasn’t just the typical drifting apart. Mike was entirely consumed by his public image. He wanted the flashiest car, the biggest house, and designer everything. For him, it was all about appearances, and I’d played along for too long. When the arguments became daily, I knew it was just a matter of time before things would come to an end.

So, when he finally said he wanted a divorce, I didn’t panic. I knew him well, and I knew exactly how this would play out. Mike didn’t care about working things out. What he wanted was to “win” the divorce—to take the house, the car, and our savings and make sure I was left with nothing. But while he was busy thinking he was outsmarting me, I was laying the groundwork for my own plan.

It all happened one Tuesday night. He came home late, as usual, and stormed into the kitchen, expecting an argument. He slammed his keys on the counter, his frustration palpable. “We need to talk,” he said in a tight voice.

“What now?” I replied, not even bothering to look up.

“I’m done,” he snapped. “I want a divorce.”

Inside, I was thrilled, but I kept calm, looking up slowly as if it was the first I’d heard of it. “Okay,” I said simply.

His reaction was priceless. He expected a fight, maybe tears. Instead, I had given him exactly what he wanted, just as planned.

The divorce proceedings were as grueling as I’d expected. Sitting across from him in the conference room, he outlined everything he wanted—the house, the car, every bit of savings. He recited it all like he was placing an order, and he wore a smug little smile the entire time, convinced he’d broken me.

“Fine,” I said, much to everyone’s surprise. “You can have it all.”

@untold.storyy The Divorce! Part 1! #anonymous #anonymousstories #storytelling #storytime #premstories #husbandwife #tiktokstories #tiktokstoryteller ♬ Documentary Music – Dian Fadli

My lawyer gave me a concerned look, but I nodded, reassuring him I knew what I was doing. Mike looked stunned for a moment, then giddy as he realized I was giving him everything. “Great,” he said, practically puffing out his chest. He even set a deadline, expecting me out of the house by six.

Back in the elevator, I could barely contain my laughter. As soon as I was alone, I pulled out my phone and typed a quick message to my mom: Heading to the house now to pack. Time for your move.

Packing my belongings took no time. I only wanted a few personal items, small things that held meaning. This house was never mine anyway; it was his showpiece. As I packed the last box, I made a call.

“It’s time,” I said to my mom, grinning.

“Finally,” she replied. My mom had never liked Mike. She’d seen right through him from day one. And the best part? She’d helped us buy this house, meaning she still held partial rights. Now, she was moving in, right on cue.

The next morning, as I settled into my new apartment, my phone rang. I answered with a grin as Mike’s name flashed on the screen.

“You set me up!” he barked.

“Oh?” I replied, feigning innocence.

“Your mother! She’s in MY house, taking over everything!”

“Right,” I said, barely stifling a laugh. “Remember the agreement we signed when she gave us the down payment? The one that lets her stay there whenever she wants?”

I could practically hear the gears turning in his head as he realized he’d been outplayed. He’d been too blinded by his “win” to remember that little clause.

“You… you tricked me! This isn’t over!”

Before he could go on, I heard my mom’s voice in the background, sharp and unmistakable. “Michael, take your feet off the coffee table! And stop hogging the remote!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as Mike muttered, “Barbara, this is my house—”

“Hush,” Mom interrupted. “It’s my house too, and another thing—these frozen dinners? I need real groceries.”

I ended the call, shaking my head with a smile. Mike had been so desperate to win, he hadn’t realized he was setting himself up for a life under Mom’s close supervision.

For years, he’d been obsessed with winning, with appearances and material wealth. Now he had everything he wanted—just not the way he envisioned it. I had gained something far more valuable: my freedom.

As I sipped my coffee, settling into my cozy new space, I knew I’d come out on top.