I’m Emma, and when I found an email about my husband’s lavish work party allowing a plus-one, I decided to surprise him. But what I saw there broke my heart, leading to a twist that freed me from his deception.
While watching TV, my husband, Lucas, left his laptop open to grab a snack. An email notification flashed: “Dear Lucas, Join our Annual Celebration! Dress code: Gold Glamour. Bring your plus-one (your wife).” I frowned. Lucas always said his company banned guests. When he returned, I asked, “A party at work?” He closed the laptop fast, saying, “Just a dull event, Emma.” I smiled, “Can I go?” He stiffened, then said, “No, it’s employees only.” His curt tone and averted eyes felt off. Lucas was often away for work, and I’d trusted him fully, but this sparked doubt.
On party night, I wore a dazzling gold dress, curiosity overwhelming me. Why keep me away? Was he hiding something? As Lucas left with a rushed “Happy New Year!” peck, I followed. The hotel sparkled with golden lights and elegant decor, filled with stylish guests. At the front desk, I said, “I’m Emma, Lucas’s wife.” The clerk’s face fell. “Lucas already arrived… with his wife,” he said. My chest tightened. “I’m his wife,” I insisted. He mumbled, “They come together often.” I spotted Lucas across the room, in a sharp suit, cozy with a redhead, their laughter intimate and unmistakable.
The glitz faded, my vision blurring. “Ma’am?” the clerk asked. “I see him,” I said calmly, turning away, the cold night air sharpening my resolve. Anger fueled me as I drove home, knowing Lucas would pay. The next day, as I brewed coffee, my phone rang. “Is this Lucas’s wife?” a voice from Grace Hospital asked. “He’s been in an accident. Please come.” Fear mixed with fury as I hurried over. The hospital’s sterile scent hit me, and a doctor said, “Lucas is stable, but his shoulder’s shattered. Surgery’s urgent, but his insurance expired. You can authorize it.” Why hadn’t he renewed?
In his room, Lucas looked frail, bandaged. “Emma,” he croaked. I stood back, saying, “You lied about the party, about her.” He pleaded, “It’s not like that.” I cut in, “I saw you. Let your ‘wife’ fix this.” He begged, “I messed up. Please sign.” My heart wavered, but his betrayal stung. “You made your choice,” I said, walking out. Days later, he called, desperate. “She didn’t come. I’m alone.” His “wife” had fled when his facade cracked. “You chose her,” I said, hanging up and blocking him.
Soon, word spread—Lucas’s affair tanked his career, the woman vanished. I felt liberated, not sorry. I joined a cooking class, explored new parks, and revived my love for writing. For years, I’d been Lucas’s devoted wife, but now, Emma was building her own life, free from his lies. Share this story to inspire others to choose themselves over betrayal.
