At 52, I thought I’d handled every kind of marriage drama, but Amber, our new neighbor, brought a fresh challenge. A 25-year-old yoga fan fresh off a divorce, she moved in and immediately started flirting with my husband, Andy. Her bold moves pushed me to pull off a plan that sent her running, proving you don’t mess with a wife who knows how to fight back.
Amber arrived three months ago, with a reputation for divorcing a rich older man and taking half his wealth. I spotted her in tiny shorts, directing movers, and sensed trouble brewing. “Andy, see the new neighbor,” I called. He peeked out, saying, “She’s young.” I grumbled, “She’s a problem.” To be friendly, I took over muffins. Amber, in a barely-there robe, gushed, “Andy told me about you!” They’d talked while he tended our garden, and her flirty vibe set me on edge.
Her antics ramped up fast. She’d wave at Andy every morning, tossing compliments like, “Great shirt!” or asking for help with “heavy stuff.” I watched, irritated, from my window. One morning, I interrupted her show. “Andy, Mom’s dinner tonight,” I said, grabbing his arm. When she asked him to move furniture, I suggested movers. Andy sped off to work, and Amber looked annoyed. Her nightly jogs, in skimpy clothes, always hit when Andy was outside. I “accidentally” sprayed the hose nearby, joking about the heat, and she fled.
One Friday, Amber knocked, claiming a burst pipe. Andy ran over with his toolbox, and I followed. Her house had no leak—just candles, music, and lingerie. Andy yelled, “I’m married!” and left. I slipped out, heart pounding. I decided to act. Using Andy’s spare phone, I texted Amber as him, inviting her over while “my wife” was out. She showed up in a flashy dress, only to find me and a crew of neighborhood women—tough moms and a retired cop—waiting.
We turned on the lights, and Amber froze. “Wrong move,” I said, showing the texts. We calmly listed her tricks—flirting, fake emergencies, disrespecting our marriage. She stammered and bolted. Weeks later, she moved out, her house for sale. Andy asked why she left. “Not her vibe,” I said with a grin. Our new neighbors, a sweet older couple, are a better match. Amber learned that messing with a seasoned wife and her community comes with a price, and I learned a little mischief goes a long way.
