It was a normal Tuesday until everything turned upside down. I was looking up the track number on my husband’s phone – a simple, routine task. He had ordered a gift for our daughter’s birthday, and I just wanted to check to see when it would arrive. Just then, the screen lit up with a new message.
“Happy anniversary, love! Thank you for the best years of my life. Can’t wait to see you on Wednesday. I’ll be waiting for you right at Obélix at 8:00. I’ll be wearing that red dress you love so much. ❤️”
My stomach twisted. My eyes went black. The message was from a contact named “Michael,” but I knew right away – it wasn’t Michael, his high school friend. It was a woman.
I froze, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was about to jump out of my chest. Eighteen years. Eighteen years of marriage. We’d built a house, raised a daughter, been through so much together. And this is what it’s come to? A secret anniversary with someone else?
I wanted to scream, to tear up, to throw the phone against the wall. But instead, I carefully placed it back on the table and slowly walked to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I needed to think.
I paced around the bathroom for an hour, running through possible explanations in my head. Maybe I had misunderstood something? Maybe there was a reasonable explanation? Maybe I should confront him with the facts right away? But eventually another thought emerged, a cold, calculating one. I need to see for myself. I need proof, irrefutable proof, before I decide what to do next.
A plan began to emerge.
On Wednesday, I arranged for my daughter to stay with my sister. Just in case, I called a babysitter to make sure everything was under control. Then I prepared myself carefully. Red dress – elegant, tight. High heels. A dash of that perfume he once adored. If this woman was going to meet my husband in a red dress, I had to go first.
I arrived at Obélix early and saw her right away. She was sitting by the window, a glass of white wine in her hand, wearing a dress exactly the same shade of red I’d chosen.
My heart was pounding in my chest, but I pulled myself together and made my way confidently to her table. She spotted me, frowning slightly, expecting to see someone else.
Are you expecting someone? – I asked calmly, sitting down across from her.
She frowned harder.
Uh… yes… I think you’re mistaken….
I don’t think so,” I looked intently into her eyes. – You’re dating a man. How many years have you been his “favorite”? Three? Five? Ten?
Her face changed. First confusion. Then realization. Then guilt.
I…” she started.
You don’t have to justify yourself,” I held up my hand, stopping her. – I don’t need to hear you say it. I just wanted to look at the woman my husband threw away eighteen years of our lives for.
She swallowed and lowered her gaze.
I…didn’t know he was still with you,” she whispered.
I laughed. Bitterly, coldly.
Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Before she could answer, I saw his reflection in the window.
My husband.
He walked confidently, relaxed – the way he used to walk on dates with me. His smile was ready for her. But then his gaze met mine.
For a moment, he froze. Then I saw his face change – the color fading, panic flashing in his eyes. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. And this time I savored the sight.
Hello, darling,” I said, putting all the sarcasm I could into my voice. – You’re late.
The restaurant went quiet.
He shifted his gaze to the woman, then back to me. His lips trembled like a fish that had been thrown ashore.
I-I can explain.
I leaned back, crossing my arms over my chest.
Oh, I’m sure you can. But you know what? I don’t need this anymore.
I stood up, adjusted my dress. For the first time in a long time, I felt strong.
I just wanted to see the moment when you realized you’d lost me.
I grabbed my purse and walked out of the restaurant without turning around. My head held high, my heels clearly beat my steps on the floor.
I didn’t cry. Not then, no.
But as I parked in front of our house-the same one we’d built together-the first tear did fall. Then another. And then another. They didn’t stop.
It hurt. God, it hurt so much.
But as I sat there, choking back tears, I knew one thing: I deserved better. And I’m gonna get it.
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