There was someone else with them.
A young woman.
She seemed to be in her early 20s.
She had dark hair.
She was sitting beside Diane.
I typed: “Who is she?”
Tessa replied: “I have no idea.”
Then another picture came through.
Nathan had both arms around the woman.
Her face was pressed against his chest.
Diane stood beside them with one hand around the woman’s wrist.
My whole body went cold.
Tessa called me.
I answered.
“Where are you?”
“At the hotel bar with coworkers. I saw Diane first.”
“Are they still there?”
“Yes.”
“Do they look…”
I couldn’t finish.
Tessa understood.
“I don’t know.”
“Does Nathan look like he’s with her?”
“I mean…”
That hesitation was enough.
I hung up.
Nathan came home after 11:00 p.m.
I was sitting in the living room with the lights off except for one lamp.
He walked in and froze. “Why are you sitting in the dark?”
I held up my phone and showed him the picture.
His face changed instantly.
Recognition, not confusion, flashed.
Fear flashed in his eyes too.
“Honey.”
“Who is she?”
He looked at the picture. “I can explain.”
“Who is she?”
“Please sit down.”
I laughed. “That’s not an answer.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Of course it is.”
He took one step toward me.
I stood. “No, don’t.”
“Please let me explain.”
“Is there really anything else to say?”
“You need to hear this.”
“I needed to hear the truth two hours before our anniversary dinner.”
“It’s complicated.”
“Your mother wasn’t sick.”
“No.”
“So you lied.”
“Yes.”
The honesty should have helped. It didn’t.
“So it isn’t complicated. Who is she?”
Nathan looked toward the floor.
“Please, just let me tell you everything from the beginning.”
I couldn’t stay calm.
I felt humiliated and angry.
I was certain I already understood what mattered.
“You canceled our anniversary dinner, lied about your mother being sick, and spent the night hugging another woman.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me one thing.”
He went quiet.
“Are you sleeping with her?”
“What? No.”
“Have you?”
“Never.”
“Then why couldn’t you tell me who she is?”
He looked toward the floor.
That pause destroyed whatever trust I had left.
I said, “I want a divorce.”
His head snapped up. “What?”
“I want a divorce.”
“You’re making a huge mistake.”
“Then I’ll live with it.”
“Please. Let’s have a proper conversation.”
“No. I am done.”
