My husband has a female best friend, Avery. They met at work and hit it off because they both work in the health field, Scott as a food safety auditor and Avery as a nutritionist.

At first, she and I got along well too.

We bonded over music and our careers, and she quickly became a part of our social circle. Everything was fine until I announced my pregnancy.

When Scott and I shared the news on social media, Avery was one of the first to text him. “Congratulations! You two are going to be amazing parents!” she wrote.

It seemed genuine enough. But then, the unsolicited advice started pouring in. Every day, Scott would receive texts from her, suggesting dietary changes and baby products we “had to” get. It was overwhelming.

“Jean, look at this,” Scott said one evening, handing me his phone. “Avery sent another list of things we need to buy. She says we should switch to organic everything.”

I glanced at the phone, irritation bubbling up inside me. “Scott, she’s going overboard. We don’t need her telling us how to prepare for our baby.”

He sighed. “I know, but she’s just trying to help. Should I say something?”

“Just ignore it,” I advised, placing his phone down. “She’s not the one having the baby; we are.”

But ignoring Avery didn’t seem to work. Her texts became more frequent and critical. It felt like she was scrutinizing every decision I made.

Publicly, Avery would leave supportive comments on my social media posts, but privately, she bombarded Scott with advice.

“Jean shouldn’t be eating that,” she’d text him if I posted a picture of my lunch. “She needs more folic acid.”

One afternoon, Scott showed me a particularly annoying message from her: “Jean should avoid caffeine entirely. It’s not good for the baby.”

“Can you believe this?” Scott asked, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her!”

“I can’t deal with her constant nagging,” I said. “This is getting out of hand.”

As the weeks went by, I focused on planning my baby shower with my mom and sister. It was going to be a small, intimate gathering with close friends and family. One evening, as I was finalizing the guest list, I received a text from Avery.

“Hey Jean! I would love to host your baby shower. I have so many great ideas!” she wrote.

I took a deep breath and typed a polite response. “Thank you, Avery, but my mom and sister are already handling it. I appreciate the offer!”

The next day, there was a knock at the door. I opened it to find Avery standing there, arms loaded with decorations and a detailed menu.

“Surprise! I brought everything we need for the baby shower!” she exclaimed, pushing past me into the house.

“Avery, I told you, my mom and sister are taking care of it,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

“But I have everything planned! It will be perfect!” she insisted, her tone condescending. “Trust me, I know what’s best for you and the baby.”

She started laying out the decorations on my dining table, listing all the things she had prepared. “I’ve arranged for a gluten-free, sugar-free cake, and I found the cutest eco-friendly party favors. I even have a playlist with relaxing music for the baby!”

I stood there, shocked by how pushy and overbearing she was being. “Avery, I appreciate your effort, but this is really something my mom and sister want to handle.”

“Jean, you have to understand,” she said, her eyes narrowing slightly, “I just want everything to be perfect for you. You deserve the best.”

That was the last straw. I decided right then and there that Avery needed a reality check. I pretended to go along with her plan, nodding and smiling as she laid out her vision for the shower.

But in my mind, I was already planning to go ahead with my mom and sister’s party at a different location.

The day of the shower arrived, and I could barely contain my excitement. But there was also a simmering sense of anticipation about how my plan would unfold.

Avery had decorated our place beautifully—I’ll give her that. Through a phone app linked to our home security cameras, I could see her hard at work.

She had gone all out with pastel streamers, delicate floral arrangements, and a meticulously crafted, sugar-free, gluten-free cake sitting proudly in the center of the room. But it was all for nothing.

No one showed up. The place was eerily quiet, save for the soft hum of Avery’s curated playlist.

Meanwhile, we were at a cozy little cafe, surrounded by laughter and warmth. My mom and sister had outdone themselves. Everyone I cared about was there, sharing in our happiness and showering us with love and well-wishes.

The first thing I did was take a polaroid photo of all of us, place it in a box with a single cupcake, and send it off with a delivery guy.

At a specific time, I excused myself to go to the bathroom, but really, I wanted to watch as Avery got the special delivery I had arranged.

Through the app, I saw the delivery guy walk in, holding a small box and a note. Avery opened it, revealing the cupcake and photo of all of us at the party. The note was simple: “We know you’re enjoying your dietary options, just wanted to share.”

Avery’s face went red. I could almost hear her screech of frustration.

It wasn’t long before my phone buzzed with an incoming call from her. I ignored it, deciding to enjoy the party for just a little while longer.

Later that day, as Scott and I were cleaning up, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Avery standing there, fury etched across her face.

“How could you do this to me?” she yelled, storming into the house without waiting for an invitation. “I put so much effort into that shower, and you just… abandoned it!”

I took a deep breath, ready to stand my ground.

“Avery, you crossed a line. This was supposed to be about celebrating our baby, not about you controlling every detail. We appreciate your intentions, but you need to respect our boundaries, which means no more texts giving advice, too.”

Avery looked stunned. “Scott, you told her about all the messages?” she stammered.

“Of course, I did,” Scott replied. “Why would I keep something like that from her?”

Avery’s face crumpled, and she muttered, “I thought it would work…”

“You thought what would work, Avery?” I asked.

“I thought if Scott followed all my advice, it would make you agitated,” she admitted, her voice breaking. “I assumed it would cause a rift between you two.”

Scott’s expression turned to shock. “Why would you do that?”

Avery’s shoulders sagged, and in a moment of desperation, she blurted out, “I’ve been in love with you, Scott, for years! I thought if I stayed close, maybe one day…”

Scott looked at her with a mix of pity and resolve.

“Avery, I’m sorry, but my heart belongs to Jean. It always has. You deserve to find someone who loves you the way I love Jean. But that someone isn’t me.”

She burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably. “Please, Scott, just give us a chance! I can’t stand seeing you with her!”

“Avery,” Scott said gently but firmly, “you need to let this go. We can’t have you in our lives if you can’t respect our relationship.”

Avery’s sobs grew louder as she stumbled out of the house, her cries echoing behind her.

Scott and I stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the gravity of what had just happened.

“Are you okay?” Scott asked, wrapping his arms around me.

I nodded, tears of relief streaming down my face. “I am now. Thank you for standing by me.”

He kissed my forehead. “I’ll always stand by you, Jean. You and our baby are my everything.”

We spent the rest of the evening talking, reaffirming our love and trust in each other. We knew we needed to set stronger boundaries to protect our relationship, and we were committed to doing just that.

A few months later, I gave birth to a healthy baby, and Avery was no longer a part of our lives. Scott and I looked forward to our future together, stronger and more united than ever.

The ordeal had tested us, but it had also brought us closer, making us appreciate what we had even more. And as I held our baby in my arms, I knew that no matter what challenges came our way, we would face them together.

Click here to read Candice’s story about her husband’s ex-wife showing up at their baby shower with a bombshell that left everyone speechless.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.