One photograph was enough to convince me my husband had lied about why he canceled our anniversary dinner. Months later, the same young woman from that photo appeared at our divorce proceedings and handed my lawyer something that changed the entire story.
Our 10th anniversary was supposed to be special. Nothing extravagant.
Just dinner at the restaurant where Nathan and I had celebrated our fifth anniversary.
I had made the reservation three weeks earlier.
I bought a new dress.
Nathan even joked that he was going to wear the tie I liked.
He would leave the ugly one he always insisted was “more comfortable” at home.
So when he walked into our bedroom two hours before dinner and said, “We have to cancel,” I thought he was joking.
I was doing my makeup.
I turned toward him. “What? Why?”
“My mom’s sick.”
I lowered the mascara wand. “What happened?”
“She called. She’s not feeling well.”
“Does she need a doctor?”
“I don’t think so. She’s just alone and scared.”
I was disappointed. Of course I was.
But his mother, Diane, lived by herself.
She was in her late 60s.
What was I supposed to say?
No, you can’t go to your mother’s place because I already bought a dress?
So I nodded. “Go. Be with her.”
Nathan looked relieved. “I’ll make this up to you.”
“You better.”
He kissed my forehead. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
Then he left.
I canceled the reservation.
I didn’t even change clothes.
I ordered Thai food and ate noodles alone at the kitchen counter while wearing a dress that had cost more than I wanted to admit.
Around 9:00 p.m., my phone buzzed.
It was my friend Tessa.
“Are you home?”
I replied, “Unfortunately, yes. Nathan cancelled our anniversary dinner due to an emergency.”
A few seconds later, she sent a photo.
“Maybe I’m crazy, but isn’t that your MIL?”
I opened it.
Diane was sitting at a table in what looked like a hotel bar downtown.
She was not sick.
She didn’t look even remotely sick.
She had makeup on.
A glass of wine in her hand.
Then Tessa sent another message.
“Wait, take a look at this.”
Another photo appeared. “Isn’t that Nathan behind her?”
It was.
Nathan stood beside the table.
Same shirt he’d worn when he left. Same jacket.
I immediately called him.
He didn’t answer.
Then Tessa sent a third photo.
