My gut clenched as dread turned into fury. My husband, the man who once staged a scavenger hunt for his proposal, was lying to me. And I was going to catch him.
On Saturday morning, I kissed Damien goodbye like everything was normal. The second he was gone, I texted the babysitter. She came to take the kids to the park, just as we’d arranged.
I handed her the bag of snacks and games I’d packed for them, then set out to catch Damien in the act. My pulse hammered as I parked near the spa. I promised myself I’d just take a look, confirm my fears, and leave.
The air inside smelled like eucalyptus and money. I scanned the lobby slowly — and then I saw them. Damien and Maribel, lounging side by side in plush white robes, like honeymooners.
I froze. They were supposed to be just colleagues. Just friends.
But then she laughed at something he said and leaned closer. And Damien… Damien touched her face and kissed her. My knees nearly buckled.
I gripped the doorframe to keep from collapsing. Tears burned my eyes, but I forced them back. Not here.
Not yet. I’d seen enough, but I wasn’t walking away without making a point. The receptionist, a bubbly blonde who looked barely out of college, smiled brightly.
“Can I help you?”
I forced a shaky smile. “Yes. I’m planning a surprise for a couple — Damien and Maribel.
Could I add a complimentary massage to their package?”
“How sweet!” she gushed, typing quickly. “I’ll let them know—”
“No,” I interrupted, keeping my tone steady. “It has to stay a surprise.”
“One surprise massage coming up!” she chirped, winking.
If Damien and Maribel wanted to play dirty, fine. I could play dirtier. I waited in the lobby until I saw them being led to their massage room.
Then I slipped down the hall, noting which room they entered. I bided my time until I knew they were deep into their session. Then I grabbed a large bucket of freezing water from the staff area and marched toward their room.
When the masseuse stepped out, I slipped inside. They were lying face down on heated tables, sighing in bliss. The sight of them — relaxed, comfortable, together — ignited every ounce of rage in me.
I tiptoed forward, holding my breath. Then, I tipped the bucket over them. Maribel shrieked, leaping up as towels flew everywhere.
Damien shot upright, his face pale with shock. “What the hell?” he sputtered. I dropped the bucket with a clatter.
“Surprised? You shouldn’t be.”
“What are you doing here?” Damien stammered, eyes darting between me and the dripping sheets. I stepped closer, voice cold as ice.
“Me? What are you doing here? Because last I checked, we couldn’t afford a holiday with our kids.
But apparently, three grand for your office wife’s spa day wasn’t a problem.”
Maribel scrambled for her robe, her cheeks blotchy. “This isn’t what it looks like—”
“Oh, save it,” I snapped. “Keep your excuses for your husband.
He’ll be hearing from me soon.”
Damien opened his mouth, but I raised my hand. “Don’t. You lied.
You betrayed me. Worst of all, you chose her over your family.”
I steadied my shaking hands and drew a deep breath. “You’d better start figuring out where you’re going to live.
Because you’re not coming back to my house.”
By then, spa staff had rushed over, alerted by Maribel’s screams. I walked right past them and out the door. Back home, I wasted no time.
Damien’s clothes went straight into garbage bags. The lawyer I’d been too afraid to call was suddenly my lifeline. And Maribel’s husband?
He answered on the first ring. The fallout was brutal. Damien lost his family.
Word spread at work, and their reputations went up in flames. Last I heard, Maribel begged for a transfer to another office. Turns out, even “work wives” can’t handle the gossip when it gets that ugly.
And me? I took the kids on that vacation anyway. We rented a cabin by the beach, collected seashells, and laughed until our stomachs hurt.
At night, with the waves crashing outside, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years: freedom. Trust is like a garden, I realized. Sometimes, you have to burn it down to start fresh.
And for the first time in twelve years, I was ready to plant something new — just for me.
