On our anniversary night, I stood in my best dress, waiting for my husband. Then a cake arrived with golden lettering: “It’s time to get divorced!” An hour later, I was on a flight to uncover the truth.
Marriage suited me. It wasn’t always perfect, but I felt loved and secure with Thomas. Our first year as husband and wife had been filled with warmth, late-night conversations, and laughter over burnt pancakes on Sunday mornings.
That’s why I spent two weeks preparing for our first wedding anniversary.
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Two weeks. Can you imagine?
Every detail had to be perfect. I spent hours searching endlessly for the ultimate duck à l’orange recipe, even practicing it twice to ensure it turned out right. And, of course, the gift.
I still remembered how he’d paused by the store window a few months ago, staring at that designer tie. It was one of those quick, fleeting moments men had when they saw something they liked but decided they didn’t need.
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But I noticed. And I remembered.
Finally, the table was set, the candles flickered, and I stood in my best dress, feeling completely happy.
Suddenly, my phone rang.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Thomas’s voice sounded… casual. “I’m already halfway to the airport.”
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I frowned. “What airport?”
“There’s an emergency meeting. Clients, you know how it is…”
I closed my eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out.
“Thomas, today is our anniversary.”
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“And I haven’t forgotten! I’ll make it up to you, I promise, as soon as I’m back.”
That phrase stuck in my mind. Make it up…
I looked at the beautifully set table. I pictured myself sitting there, eating alone, wearing that dress I chose just for him.
“Right. Safe flight.”
