My Husband Urged Me to Pay for His Luxury ‘Guys’ Trip’ – If Only I Had Known Sooner Who He Was Really Traveling With

My husband had been gone for three days, supposedly on a luxury guys’ trip in the Caribbean.

“Do you really miss us, though?” I muttered, dragging my finger across the screen.

“Is Daddy going to send another photo today?” Ella asked, wandering into the kitchen.

“He might, baby. He’s probably just busy with his work buddies.”

She nodded, grabbing a juice box from the fridge.

“Maybe he’s swimming.”

“Do you really miss us, though?” I muttered.

“Maybe, Ells, maybe.”

As she left, I tapped on a new video posted by one of Blake’s coworkers. It was just 15 seconds of laughter, the ocean breeze, and then Jen — unmistakably her — laughing in that white halter dress, and Blake’s hands at her waist.

I watched the video twice before my mind caught up with what my eyes already knew. The water boiled over onto the stove, hissing sharply, but I didn’t move right away.

I tapped on a new video posted by one of Blake’s coworkers

My body felt heavy, as if every muscle had decided to stop cooperating at once.

Jen wasn’t a stranger.

She was Blake’s coworker. She was the woman who had spent the night on our couch after her divorce papers were finalized. She was the one I had wrapped in a Target throw blanket while she cried into my shoulder and asked me how I made marriage look so easy.

“Really, Blake?” I muttered to myself. “You really had to shatter our marriage like this?”

She was the woman who had spent the night on our couch.

Later that night, after the kids were finally asleep, I sat on the couch and let my thoughts wander where I’d been carefully steering them away from all day.

The Christmas party came back to me first.

Blake’s office had rented out an entire restaurant, complete with an open bar and music loud enough to drown out real conversation. I remember shifting my weight in heels that hurt more than I expected.

The Christmas party came back to me first.

“This is my wife, Rachel,” he said proudly, again and again.

Jen appeared beside us with a glass of white wine. She smiled warmly at me.

“You’re lucky, Rachel. Blake is so involved. My husband barely changed a diaper.”

“He tries,” I said, laughing a little and squeezing Blake’s hand.

She smiled warmly at me.

Two months later, Jen stood in our doorway with swollen eyes.

“I didn’t know where else to go,” she said softly.

Blake handed her a tissue while I set a kettle on the stove. I wrapped her in a blanket and pressed a mug into her hands.

“I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like anymore,” she whispered.