…dozens of messages.
Photos.
Heart emojis.
Plans.
Dinner reservations.
Hotel confirmations.
My chest felt like it was caving in.
“How long?” I asked, my voice barely steady.
He sank into a chair. “It started a few months ago.”
A few months.
While we were planning our anniversary trip.
While he kissed me goodbye every morning.
While I believed we were solid.
“She makes me feel… seen,” he whispered.
I actually laughed at that. “Seen? After fourteen years? After building a life together?”
He reached for my hand. I pulled it away.
“I was going to end it,” he said quickly. “Tonight. That’s why she texted. I swear.”
I looked at the screen again.
“Can’t wait to see you again tonight ❤️.”
That didn’t look like goodbye.
I stood up.
“Pack a bag,” I said quietly.
His head snapped up. “What?”
“You wanted to feel seen?” I continued. “Let her see you. Because I’m done pretending not to.”
He tried crying. Apologizing. Blaming stress. Blaming a midlife crisis.
But once the illusion shatters, you can’t glue it back the same way.
That night, he left.
The house felt painfully quiet.
But it also felt honest.
And for the first time in months, I wasn’t questioning my instincts.
I was trusting them.
