Unexpected Savior: The Pizza Delivery Guy Who Rescued Me from Disaster

Delivery Guy Left a Message for Me on a Pizza Box — Turns Out, He Saved Me from a Disastrous Marriage

While her fiancé was out of town, Emily placed an order for pizza, not anticipating a message that would ruin her life. She had no idea that the delivery would spare her from a terrible marriage.

It felt like a nice rhythm living with Jake. I felt that our little flat, with its mismatched chairs and soft covers, was our little refuge. For the last three years, Jake and I have developed a routine around small pleasures. My name is Emily.

The most common one was spending our lazy evenings ordering pizza from the same neighbourhood restaurant. It was customary. As I called our favourite pizza, Jake would peruse the movie lists.

The delivery man, Tom, knew everyone of us by name. His visits followed a strict schedule, even down to the happy “How’s it going?” that reverberated through our tiny foyer. But tonight, I was alone myself. The quiet was louder than normal since Jake was out of town on business.

I placed a single order for my typical pepperoni and extra cheese pizza. As anticipated, Tom answered the doorbell, but there seemed to be something strange about him this evening. As he handed me the pizza box, his hands appeared to tremble a little and his smile did not extend to his eyes.

Emily, it’s evening. Is Jake not present this evening? With a tiny tremble in his voice, Tom questioned.

“No, it’s just me tonight,” I said, attempting to seem happy. Tom turned on his heel and nodded, walking away far too soon.

I was irritated by his actions as I closed the door. Was he alright? I brushed the worry aside and brought the warm package into the kitchen. The air was filled with the comforting smell of tomato sauce and garlic, which usually felt like a hug.

However, my heart skipped a beat as I opened the package. There was a note that said, “He is not who you think,” written with a black Sharpie over the inside lid of the box. Examine the camera on your door.

There was a sudden chilly rush of dread over me, and the pizza didn’t seem so good. As I placed the box down, my hands shook, and the happy noise of the flat was replaced by an approaching quietness. On that camera, what was I going to discover?

I shook my hand trying to operate the iPad that operated our door camera. My spine tingled after reading the note in the pizza box, and the seconds it took to open the app felt endless. With each day I swiped back through, my breath caught as I delved into the camera’s history.

Then I caught sight of it.

At our door, Jake, my Jake, greeted a woman. This was no ordinary woman, though; as she gave him a bottle of wine, she burst out laughing. My heart fell. I kept scrolling. Another day, another woman, with a stack of films in her arms.

It appeared that Jake was always entertained when I was away. Various women, each visit amply recorded by the hilariously placed camera for our protection.

With the iPad falling to my lap, I sat still. My thoughts were racing. How was he able to? When had this charade become the norm in our life together? My vision was clouded by tears, and every video clip felt like a knife to my chest. Were all of my feelings for him, the faith I’d put in him, just one-sided? Was I alone in this situation?

It felt like the flat was getting smaller and the walls were closing in on me with every laugh and bottle of wine shared by the women. I had cherished our shared existence and this area, but now every room exuded a sense of treachery.

As the reality set in like lead in my stomach, I started to feel queasy and a knot started to form in my throat. This went beyond a straightforward error or miscommunication. It was a willful, persistent treachery. My fingers were jabbing into my palms as my hands balled into fists.

My tears ran down my face, heated by the rage that blended with my sorrow. I had to face him, to ask for clarification. But first, I had to gather the broken fragments of my dignity and get myself together. I had to keep my brokenness from him.

I needed to be resilient for my own benefit. I no longer felt the love I believed we shared; instead, a hard, icy rage had taken its place. Jake needed to explain himself thoroughly, and I was going to make sure I understood.

Jake came back to a flat that was silent and tense as a fog. I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the images in my head that had come from the door camera. Ignoring the turmoil within me, he greeted me with his customary carefree smile.

“Hi, Em. He said, “Missed you,” and hung up his coat.

I did not smile back. “We need to talk.”

Jake flinched at the smile. “What’s wrong?”

I raised the iPad to reveal a pause in a picture of him and one of the women. “Care to explain this?”

Jake looked at the television and shrugged, letting his shoulders drop. “Emily, you’re exaggerating the situation. They are merely pals.

“Friends?” I lost my temper. Every time I go away, are there new women? As it really is, Jake?”

With a groan, he combed through his hair. “Look, Em, you’re acting suspiciously. These women are unimportant.

“Nothing?” I spoke up, my temper piercing through my composed exterior. “How can you say that?”

Jake’s voice grew stern. “I have a lot to offer this partnership. Are you truly that insecure that you want to discard this?

And that was all. His disdain and haughtiness made what I was feeling crystal clear. “Jake, it’s not insecurity when I have proof. This is beyond me. I refuse to wed someone who holds such low regard for me.”

Jake’s expression hardened as his haughtiness gave way to horror. “Are you serious? For some absurdity?”

“Yes,” with a clear and firm tone. “I’ve finished. We’re through.”

He looked at me for a moment, then picked up his coat and walked away. Without any warning, the door slammed behind him, and it was over.

I took a few alone moments to collect my thoughts before picking up my phone and calling the pizza business. Tom replied.

It’s Emily, Tom. I… I desired to express gratitude. Regarding Jake, you were correct.”

The phone rang for a moment. “I truly apologise, Emily. I believed you ought to be aware.”

“Thank you,” I said with a lot of sincerity in my voice. “May I perhaps get you a coffee sometime? To converse?”

Tom said, “I’d like that,” with a warmth in his voice that eased my hurt feelings.

The fear of facing Jake seemed so long ago when I saw Tom at the neighbourhood café the following day. I felt noticed for the first time in a long time when I saw Tom’s sincere concern in his eyes.

“Tom, I appreciate you being upfront with me. As we settled down with our coffees, I remarked, “It must have been difficult to decide to tell me.

He gave a nod. Yes, Emily. However, it didn’t feel right to withhold it from you. Everyone is entitled to the truth.

I became aware of how closely my identity had been linked to my relationship with Jake while we conversed. I felt a wave of possibilities and freedom come over me now that I was sitting across from Tom. This was a person who preferred honesty to ease of use. It felt hopeful in an odd way and invigorating.

We shifted the subject from serious to lighter ones, and soon we were laughing. I didn’t think I would feel this light following such a severe blow. It served as a reminder that occasionally, better things can be rebuilt from the ruins.

As we sat there, laughing heartily together, I felt as though a burden had been lifted. It seemed like a breath of fresh air after spending too much time indoors.

I looked at Tom and said, “I never thought a pizza delivery could change my life.” I could see he understood by his smile.

“Emma, life is odd. “You never know when you’ll need help,” he answered, kindness shining in his eyes.

I felt a fresh sense of hope as we exited the café. I was prepared to take the next step and welcome whatever lay ahead. One thing was for sure, even if I had no idea what lay ahead: I was returning to bliss, one piece at a time.