it said.I laughed at it, not thinking anything about the situation. But as the night went on and I stayed up watching old Christmas movies, the message constantly flashed in my mind.
When Travis woke up the following day, I asked him about the party.
He said that they started at his office, then went to a bar for karaoke, and finally ended up at a club for a few hours.
I asked him about the message, and he looked confused. “One of the guys probably wrote it,” he said.
“There was a lot to drink, and you know how the guys get.
“Still, it bugged me. So, I went to my Mom for advice. I confided in her, asking her how to deal with unease and distrust in my marriage — something that had never come up in the last five years.
Mom’s solution was to bug Travis’ car with a GPS tracker.
Now, I’m not one to snoop around, and I didn’t really want to do it. But I needed this nagging feeling to be silenced. So, I agreed.
But I knew if Trav ever found it, he would feel so betrayed.
Anyway, in the last week before his Christmas break, I watched his movements on my laptop, tracking his to-and-from work commutes.
But then, one evening, he called me and said he needed to stay late and complete some work before signing off for the holidays. I believed him — I was facing deadlines as well.
But while he spoke, I opened the app on my laptop again and saw that his car was on the move. The car was moving in the opposite direction of home instead of taking me to the suburbs of mansions and fancy cars.
Naturally, I got into my car and followed along — having also downloaded the tracking app to my phone.
My heart pounded as I parked across the road from where his car was parked in the driveway of a stunning house.
I sat in the car, texting my mother and updating her about my Friday night activity. About two hours later, Travis emerged from the house, beaming from ear to ear.
I sat up a little straighter, trying to see everything.To my shock, a woman followed closely behind him. She reached for his arm when he turned around to face her.
She embraced him with a kiss on the lips.
My heart sank, and the knots in my stomach finally unraveled because the root of unease looked me in the face.
The world seemed to pause momentarily as I grappled with the reality unfolding before me. In an impulsive surge of adrenaline, I snapped some photos of them together, capturing the undeniable evidence of the moment my marriage ended.
I swiped through them on my phone, realizing that sitting in the car wouldn’t help me. I walked up to the house, and Travis saw me first.
He was too shocked to respond.
He just stood there, watching me walk toward them.”So, you’re the woman who left a message on my husband?” I asked. But to my astonishment, her reply wasn’t what I expected.
Instead of cowering or denying any of it, she boldly asserted that I deserved better. “Husbands like this deserve to be treated like spare change,” she said, glancing at Travis.
He, red-faced from anger and embarrassment, exclaimed, “How dare you?”But it didn’t matter.
The woman had already closed the door. I left Travis standing there and returned to my car, ignoring him.
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