When I discovered two Valentine’s Day gifts waiting for me, I thought Darren might finally be changing. The first gift, a stunning pair of sapphire earrings, seemed perfect. But the second package contained something much darker. I needed to call my lawyer immediately!
I knew Darren wasn’t home for Valentine’s Day the moment I walked through the front door. After twelve years of marriage, you develop a sixth sense about these things.
A disappointed woman standing in an entrance hallway | Source: Midjourney
The house felt different, as if it were holding its breath. The steady ticking of the kitchen clock seemed to mock me as I placed my keys on the hall table, each click louder than the last.
My fingers lingered on the cold metal of my keys, remembering how excited I’d been this morning, hoping today would be different.
“Hello?” I called, my voice bouncing off the walls.
A woman walking into a living room | Source: Midjourney
Only silence answered me.
My eyes scanned the living room, searching for any sign of life or disturbance. Nothing seemed out of place, but everything felt wobbly, like a picture frame hanging slightly askew.
That’s when I spotted them on the dining room table: two gifts wrapped in shiny red paper, with a card between them.
My heart did a funny little jump.
Two gifts and an envelope on a table | Source: Midjourney
Darren was never very attached to Valentine’s Day. Some years, he’d forget about it completely, and I’d pretend it didn’t matter. But this was proof of real effort.
I stepped closer, trying to squash the hope bubbling inside me. The last time he’d given me a real Valentine’s Day gift was three years ago: a wilted rose from the grocery store and a card he’d obviously bought on the way home.
On the card was my name written in his familiar handwriting.
A woman holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney
I took it, ran my finger along the edge before opening it. The paper was thick and expensive. He’d even chosen one with a handwritten font, instead of the usual generic drugstore variety.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. Sorry I have to work late, but I hope these gifts will make up for it. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. Love you, Darren.”
I read it twice, then a third time. The words were soft, almost suspicious.
A frowning woman holding a note | Source: Midjourney
The late-working excuse made me sigh. How many times had I heard it over the years? Too many to count. Last week alone, he’d worked late four nights.
Yet something seemed different about all the extra work he’d been doing lately. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but an alarm bell had been ringing in the back of my mind for months, soft but insistent.
With slightly trembling fingers, I grabbed the largest package. The paper crinkled as I unwrapped it, revealing a velvet jewelry box.
A woman holding a jewelry box | Source: Midjourney
Inside, a pair of sapphire earrings caught the light, making a blue fire dance across the ceiling.
“Oh,” I whispered, gently touching one.
“Sapphire is my birthstone. I didn’t think he remembered that detail. Next to the earrings sat a small heart-shaped charm, engraved with the words ‘Forever yours.’
“This gift should have made me smile. It should have warmed my heart. But instead, it left me cold.
A woman frowns | Source: Midjourney
Why now? Why this sudden thoughtfulness after months of estrangement? After countless dinners alone, unanswered phone calls, and mumbled apologies? Had Darren finally realized he was neglecting our marriage?
I turned to the second package, smaller and lighter than the first. The paper peeled back easily, revealing a brown paper envelope. My pulse quickened as I opened it.
Photos cascaded onto the table.
A woman looking at something in amazement | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I breathed. But there it was, the undeniable evidence, laid out before me.
The photos showed Darren in what appeared to be an expensive restaurant, sitting next to a woman I’d never seen before. Their hands were clasped on the table, their faces lit by intimate smiles.
In another shot, his lips rested on her temple, his eyes closed in pleasure. The time stamp indicated last week—one of those nights when he had “worked late.”
A man kissing a woman on the cheek | Source: Midjourney
My stomach rumbled.
Each new image was like a new betrayal, a knife digging deeper. There were others: the two of them walking in the park, his hand on the small of her back. They were leaving a hotel together, looking rumpled and satisfied.
At the bottom of the envelope, I found a folded sheet of paper. My hands trembled as I opened it.
“This is where he is right now.”
An angry woman holding a piece of paper | Source: Midjourney
Under the message was an address I didn’t recognize, but the name of the restaurant rang a bell: La Maison Rouge, the new French restaurant downtown where he had refused to take me, claiming it was too expensive.
A yellow sticky note fell to the floor. I immediately recognized the handwriting—Lily’s. My sister-in-law’s message was brief but clear:
“I couldn’t watch him hurt you anymore. Do what you have to do. Lily.”
The room spun slightly as everything fell into place.
An angry woman holding a post-it note | Source: Midjourney
Lily and I had always gotten along well, but lately she’d been avoiding my calls and changing the subject whenever I mentioned Darren.
That guilty look in her eyes during dinner last Sunday made sense now. She knew. She had known it and had chosen this way of telling me, probably to avoid confronting her brother directly.
I took out my phone. It was the moment I’d been dreading, but I knew what I had to do next.
A woman using her cell phone | Source: Pexels
I had contacted a lawyer several weeks ago when I began to feel something was wrong with Darren. Too many of my friends had been blindsided by a cheating husband and left with nothing after the divorce. I didn’t want to find myself in the same situation.
“Rachel?” I said when the call went through. “I was right. What’s our plan now?”
His voice came back calm and professional. “We’ll move forward as we discussed. Do you have everything you need?”
A woman talking on her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
I gathered the photos, my fingers tightening around the paper with the address. “Yes. I know where it is.”
“Are you sure you want to face him tonight?” Rachel asked, concern evident in her voice. “We could wait until morning, sort everything out first.”
“No,” I said firmly. “I need to do this now. He needs to know that I know.”
A woman talking angrily into her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of La Maison Rouge. Darren’s silver BMW was parked near the entrance, impossible to miss.
For a moment, I stood frozen in my car, doubt creeping in. Do I really want to see this? Would I be able to do it?
Then I remembered the photos. The lies. The lonely nights. The way he’d looked me in the eyes every time he told me he’d be working late that night.
The entrance to a restaurant | Source: Pexels
With new determination, I grabbed my purse and walked inside.
The hostess tried to stop me, but I was already scanning the room. I spotted him in a corner, the champagne chilling in an ice bucket next to the table.
He laughed at a remark his partner had made. She was a stunning blonde wearing a red dress that probably cost more than our monthly mortgage payment.
Our eyes met across the restaurant.
Close-up of a furious woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
The smile vanished from his face, replaced by shock, then fear. I strode toward their table, my heels clicking against the wooden floor like a countdown.
“Surprised to see me?” My voice came out loud and clear, surprising even myself.
The blonde looked between us, confusion clouding her perfect features. “Who is it, Darren?”
“I’m his wife.” I dropped the photos onto their table, watching several land in their half-eaten meals. “Or at least, I am for now.”
An angry woman speaking to someone in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The woman’s face drained of color as she looked at the photos, then at Darren. “Are you married?”
She grabbed her purse and stood up so quickly that she knocked over her wine glass. The red liquid spilled onto the white tablecloth like blood.
“I’m so sorry,” she gasped, turning to me. “I had no idea. He told me he was divorced.”
“Not yet,” I said coldly. “But he will be soon.”
An angry woman confronts someone in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Wait, please,” Darren stammered, grabbing my arm. “Let me explain…”
“Stop.” I took a step back, keeping my chin high. “You can explain this to my lawyer. She’s waiting for your call.”
I turned on my heel and walked away, ignoring his desperate pleas behind me. The cool night air hit my face as I stepped outside, and I took my first real breath in what felt like hours.
When I got home, Rachel had already emailed me the first divorce papers for my review.
A woman holding a laptop | Source: Pexels
I sat on the bed, but before going through the divorce papers, I took out my phone.
“Thanks,” I wrote to Lily. “It’ll be okay.”
His response came immediately: “You deserve better. Call me if you need anything.”
I looked around the room, noticing for the first time how many pictures of Darren and me lined the walls.
A pensive woman sitting on her bed | Source: Midjourney
Tomorrow I’ll take them off. Tomorrow I’ll start packing his things. Tomorrow will bring its own challenges.
But tonight? Tonight, I felt lighter than I had in months.
Let him keep his champagne dates and his secret kisses. Let him keep his lies and his guilt. I had better things: my self-respect, my freedom, and the truth.
A smiling woman on her bed | Source: Midjourney
Some might say it was a cruel way to spend Valentine’s Day. I say it was the best gift I could have given myself.
Read also: I got stuck in an elevator with my ex-husband and his new girlfriend on Valentine’s Day, and it revealed his true personality
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the story. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims regarding the accuracy of events or character portrayals and are not responsible for any misinterpretations. This story is provided “as is,” and the opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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