I sat numbly on the couch, staring at wedding magazines that now felt like cruel jokes. Just a week ago, Mark and I were planning our future. Then came his sudden “work trip” to Spain—again. Something didn’t feel right.
He brushed off my questions. The calls became shorter, and then stopped. Alone and restless, I stumbled across a hotel confirmation in his email—for two, with strawberries and champagne. I’m allergic to strawberries.
My heart dropped. He wasn’t alone.
I called my best friend, Claire. “I’m going to Spain,” I told her. “I need to know.”
The flight was awful. I was anxious, cramped, and then—someone spilled tomato juice on me. The clumsy guy next to me, Daniel, offered a drink to make up for it. We laughed through the awkward moment.
Turns out, he was also on a surprise trip to catch a cheating spouse. His wife, Brenda. The coincidence felt surreal.
When we landed, we were stunned to find we had booked the same hotel—and the same room, thanks to an overbooking. Too tired to argue, we made the best of it.
But nothing prepared us for what we saw from the balcony: Mark and Brenda together. Our partners, cheating—with each other.
As we crouched in disbelief, we overheard Brenda plotting to divorce Daniel for his money—while Mark encouraged it.
Daniel turned to me with a wicked grin. “Let’s give them a show.”
We pretended to be madly in love. I wore a fiery red dress meant for Brenda, and we crashed their dinner like a storm. Mark and Brenda were speechless.
Then Daniel dropped the mic—he gifted me the diamond earrings meant for Brenda and told her she’d never see his money.
We walked out of that restaurant with our heads high. I didn’t get closure from Mark—I got something better: clarity, freedom, and a strange, unexpected connection with someone who understood.
I thought I came to Spain to confront a lie. Instead, I rediscovered myself.
Leave a Reply