After 36 years together, my husband left me for his mistress—but a surprising twist was uncovered through his smartwatch

I giggled, pressing my cheek against his. “And you still know how to make me feel like the only woman in the world.”

For this special occasion, I gifted him a brand-new smartwatch, one with a heart rate monitor. His doctor had warned him about his heart, and I wanted to make sure he was keeping track of his health.

He smiled, kissed my forehead, and thanked me. In return, he fastened a delicate gold necklace around my neck, letting his fingers linger for just a second.

Everything felt perfect.

But perfect is a dangerous illusion.

A month later, my world came crashing down.

Troy sat me down at the dining table—our dining table, the one where we had eaten countless family meals, celebrated birthdays, and comforted each other through grief. But this time, there was no warmth in his eyes, no love in his voice.

“I need to tell you something,” he started, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wood.

I felt a chill crawl down my spine. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”

My heart stopped. I searched his face for any sign that this was some cruel joke. “A divorce?” I repeated, the word foreign on my tongue. “Troy, what are you talking about?”

He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t even soften the blow.

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