It began like any other quiet afternoon. Amelia was at home folding laundry, half-watching TV, half-scrolling through her phone, and waiting for her husband, Mark, to answer her message about picking up bread on his way home. After fifteen minutes with no reply, she decided to have a little fun. Smiling mischievously, she typed:
“Are you with Valerie again?”
It was meant as a harmless joke — just a playful way to get his attention. Valerie wasn’t real; Amelia had plucked the name out of thin air, expecting him to respond with something like “Who’s Valerie?” or a laughing emoji.
But when Mark’s reply arrived seconds later, her grin disappeared.
“Yep. With Valerie. We’re just near your favorite bakery.”
Her heart dropped into her stomach. For a long second, she couldn’t breathe. The bakery? Her favorite one? It felt too specific, too pointed to be random. Her mind went into overdrive. What if there was a Valerie? What if this wasn’t a joke at all?
Before she could stop herself, she threw on a coat, grabbed her keys, and bolted for the car. The drive felt endless, her thoughts spinning faster than the tires. She pictured them together — laughing, sharing pastries, maybe even sitting at her usual table. Her chest tightened with every passing block.
When she finally reached the bakery, she burst inside, scanning the cozy shop from corner to corner. No Mark. No mysterious woman. Just the comforting smell of cinnamon, coffee, and fresh bread. Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear.
She checked the tables again, then stepped outside to scan the street. Nothing. Feeling foolish, she pulled out her phone and typed shakily:
“Where are you?”
The reply came almost instantly.
“At work. 😂 Why?”
Amelia blinked. Her confusion turned to irritation. She typed back quickly:
“You said you’re with Valerie near the bakery!”
A few seconds later, his final message appeared — and it made her jaw drop before she burst into laughter.
“I was joking. Since you’re already there, grab the bread!”
For a moment, Amelia just stood there on the sidewalk, stunned. Then, as the absurdity of it all sank in, she started laughing so hard she had to wipe away tears. The cashier inside gave her a puzzled look as she marched back in, shaking her head.
“Fine,” she muttered, half to herself, half to her phone. “You win.”
She bought the bread — and, feeling a mix of exasperation and affection, grabbed his favorite chocolate pastries, too. By the time she got home, the adrenaline had worn off, replaced by amusement.
Mark was waiting in the kitchen, phone in hand, looking far too pleased with himself.
“So,” he asked with a grin, “how’s Valerie?”
She shot him a mock glare, but it didn’t last. Laughter bubbled up, and soon they were both laughing like kids. “You’re impossible,” she said, smacking his arm lightly before hugging him tight. The tension dissolved, replaced with that familiar warmth that comes from loving someone who knows exactly how to get under your skin — and make you laugh anyway.
Later that night, as they sat together eating warm slices of bread and those pastries she’d bought in her moment of defeat, Amelia lifted her glass and said, “To Valerie — whoever she is — for teaching me not to jump to conclusions.”
Mark chuckled. “And to my wife,” he said, raising his own glass, “who learned never to prank a prankster.”
From that night on, “the Valerie incident” became one of their favorite stories — one they’d tell friends over dinner, always ending in laughter. It reminded them that love isn’t only about romance or grand gestures. Sometimes it’s about laughing at your own mistakes, forgiving each other’s tricks, and realizing that even a trip for bread can turn into a story you’ll cherish forever.