I told myself I was being paranoid. I was exhausted, overworked—maybe even insecure. But then, I saw it.
Peter, standing by the kitchen island, laughing. The way his eyes crinkled, his voice warm and low. I hadn’t seen that look in years.
He smiled at her. Not the casual, polite kind. It was the kind of smile that used to be mine.
My stomach dropped.
He’s cheating on me.
The late nights. The sudden change in schedule. The way he barely looked at me anymore. It all made sense.
Today is our 15th anniversary. No flowers, no gifts — just a vague excuse about a “new project.”
I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
So, I left work two hours early.
I gripped my keys so tightly that they dug into my palm. My heart was pounding as I stepped inside, ready to catch them in the act. But the moment I crossed the threshold, I stopped dead in my tracks.
The dining table was set for two, adorned with flowers, fine china, and an elegant meal. The smell of garlic and rosemary filled the air. My breath caught.
What the hell is going on?
Lucy beamed as she walked toward me, wiping her hands on her apron. “Happy anniversary! They worked so hard for you.”
I blinked, trying to process her words. “What?”
Peter appeared from the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, a towel slung over his shoulder. “Surprise!” He gave me a sheepish smile. “You weren’t supposed to be home this early.”
I stared at him, still expecting some cruel revelation.
Ava tugged on my sleeve. “Mommy, we made dinner for you!”
I felt the air rush out of my lungs. I looked at Peter. “You… what?”
He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. I know I’ve been distant lately, but it was for this. Lucy’s been helping us plan for weeks. I just wanted to do something special for you this time.”
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