I placed the lasagna on the table and took a deep breath, trying to muster a cheerful tone. “Dinner’s ready,” I called out. Ethan walked into the kitchen, already showing his disdain. He sat down, picked up his fork, and took a bite. After a moment, he spat it out. “This is disgusting. Why can’t you cook like your sister? Her meals are amazing. Yours are terrible.”

His words cut deep. “You’re worthless in the kitchen, Amanda!” he added, his voice dripping with contempt.

This wasn’t the first time Ethan had criticized my cooking. For ten years of marriage, he had made it a point to compare my meals unfavorably to those of my sister Olivia, a professional chef. Each meal felt like a test I always seemed to fail.

Stung by his harsh words, I struggled to hold back tears. “I worked hard on this, Ethan,” I said softly.

“Working hard doesn’t matter if the result is still awful,” he snapped. “Olivia could make this in her sleep and it would taste ten times better.”

I felt a mix of humiliation and anger. I couldn’t keep enduring his constant criticism. That night, as I lay in bed, an idea began to form. I would turn the tables and prove him wrong. The next day, I drove to Olivia’s house, my heart racing with determination.

“Hey, Amanda!” Olivia greeted me warmly. “What’s up?”

“I need your help,” I said. I explained how Ethan’s constant comparisons and criticisms had taken their toll. “I want to cook every meal myself but package them as yours. I’ll save the money Ethan pays for the ‘professional’ meals. This way, I’ll prove that my cooking is just as good.”

Olivia listened carefully, her concern evident. “What do you need me to do?”

“I’ll cook at home and bring the meals to you for packaging. You can help make the presentation perfect.”

Olivia’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “I think that’s a brilliant idea. Let’s teach him a lesson.”

We spent the next hour planning. I would prepare the meals and deliver them to Olivia’s house, where she would help with the final touches. I decided on a price of $750 a month, which Olivia agreed sounded fair.

I told Ethan Olivia would cook for us at that rate. He was thrilled. “That’s fantastic! Her meals are worth every penny!”

Over the next several months, our dining routine became a stage for my secret plan. Every night, I prepared delicious dishes and packaged them as if they were from Olivia. Ethan raved about the “professional” meals, completely unaware that they were my creations.

One day, I decided it was time for the big reveal. I planned a dinner party and invited Ethan’s friends and family. I prepared a lavish spread of his favorite dishes: roasted chicken, garlic bread, and a decadent chocolate cake.

As guests arrived, the aroma of my cooking filled the house. Everyone praised the food. Ethan was particularly enthusiastic, declaring, “Amanda was smart to hire a professional chef. Worth every penny!”

After dinner, I clinked my glass to get everyone’s attention. “Thank you all for coming. I have a little something for Ethan,” I said, handing him an envelope.

Inside were recipes labeled “Homemade by Amanda.” Ethan’s face went pale. “Wait, you made all this yourself?” he stammered.

“Yes,” I said proudly. “I’ve been cooking every meal you’ve praised. I packaged them as Olivia’s to see if you’d appreciate my cooking.”

The room erupted in laughter and applause. Jackson patted Ethan on the back. “Looks like Amanda’s cooking was amazing all along!”

Ethan’s face turned beet red. “I’m sorry, Amanda. I was jealous of Olivia’s success and took it out on you. Can you forgive me?”

I smiled. “Of course. And the money you paid for the ‘professional’ meals? I’ve booked a luxurious spa retreat for myself.”

The guests cheered. The night ended on a high note, with everyone enjoying the meal and celebrating. Ethan appreciated my cooking from then on, and our marriage grew stronger. Sometimes, a creative approach is needed to teach a lesson that lasts.