I was working a late shift, my body aching with exhaustion, but I was still grateful to be making money. That was, until I glanced in the rearview mirror. My stomach dropped when I saw him—my husband, Jason. But he wasn’t alone. He was in the back seat with another woman.
I stayed quiet, trying to control my rage. My mind was already working on my next move, plotting how to take him down. He had no idea what was coming.
I used to think I was lucky to have Jason. He came into my life when everything seemed perfect: a great job at a big company, a two-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn, and my sweet five-year-old son, Jamie.
Then came Jason. He was charming, handsome, and, for a while, homeless.
“It’s fine, we’ll manage,” I told my friend when Jason moved in.
“You barely know him!” she warned, but I shrugged it off.
“He’s great with Jamie. He treats him like his own. That’s more than I expected,” I explained.
I really believed he was special. I even helped him get a job through my connections. Soon, he was doing well—new suits, a shiny car, and just a year later, he proposed.
“You can quit your job, Abby. Focus on Jamie. I’ll take care of everything,” he said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And, like a fool, I believed him.
At first, life was good. But soon after I stopped working, everything changed. Jason started calling Jamie “a problem,” “too sensitive,” and “not how a real boy should be.” My heart broke every time I heard him say that.
Money from Jason was always “on the card” or “not processed yet” or “just hang in there.” I stayed quiet, letting it slide.
Eventually, I took up a night shift as a taxi driver while Jason claimed to be “away on business.”
One night, I came home late to find Martha, our downstairs neighbor, waiting by the door. She wore a pink robe and was gently stroking Jamie’s hair as he slept, hugging her dog like a pillow.
“So, how was work, sweetheart?” she asked me.
“Better than nothing,” I sighed, dragging myself inside.
“Oh, with him—like with my own,” Martha smiled fondly. “Jamie’s my little treasure. I never had grandkids, so he’s my little sunshine.”
“You’re our guardian angel, Martha. I couldn’t do this without you,” I said, my voice heavy with gratitude.
Martha’s smile faltered as she looked at me. “And Jason… does he even know how hard this is for you?”
I swallowed hard. “He knows. He’s just… busy with work.”
I didn’t tell her the truth. Jason wasn’t busy with work. He was busy with someone else. And that night, I would find out just how deep the lies went.
It started as a normal shift. A call came in from a downtown restaurant. I pulled up to pick up a man in a gray coat and a woman with bright red lipstick.
When I looked in the rearview mirror, my stomach twisted. It was Jason, with his mistress, cozy in the back seat like nothing was wrong.
I said nothing. I kept my eyes on the road, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.
“Finally,” the woman sighed. “I thought you’d come up with another excuse about your kid.”
“Not tonight, Ashley,” Jason murmured. “I missed you.”
They kissed, and I could feel the nausea rising in my stomach.
“So,” she asked, her voice teasing, “when are your parents going to meet me?”
Jason gave her a confused look.
“They want to meet someone serious,” she explained. “A fiancé. They said they’d buy me a house if I’m with someone stable.”
Jason chuckled. “We’re playing this game now?”
“They’re really old-fashioned. We won’t mention your wife. I mean, you’re divorcing her soon anyway, right?”
He leaned in and kissed her. “You’re my favorite. You’re so clever.”
Her voice turned silky as she continued, “I was thinking… we could get two houses. One to live in, one to rent out. It could be perfect.”
Jason chuckled, clearly pleased. “Exactly. As soon as my wife gets the inheritance, I’m out. No reason to leave empty-handed. Her mom’s really sick, so it’ll happen soon.”
I almost lost control of the car.
Ashley smiled, oblivious to my presence. “Perfect. I’ll set up a little backyard barbecue for us this weekend. Just show up, act like we’re engaged, and we’ll be in.”
Saturday. That was our anniversary. The day we met nine years ago.
He was planning to meet her parents for a fake engagement. And he didn’t even remember our special day.
I drove them to a small house—definitely not ours. Jason got out without even noticing me. He paid in cash, smiled, and reached for Ashley’s waist.
“Thanks, buddy,” he said, already walking away with her.
I sat in silence, my breathing slow and steady as I processed the betrayal. Then, I whispered to no one, “I’m sorry, Jason. But you just lost.”
A few days before our anniversary, I set a candlelit dinner. When Jason came into the kitchen, I acted like everything was fine.
“Jason,” I said, serving him stew, “do you remember what Saturday is?”
He paused, looking like he was scrambling for an answer.
“Anniversary… right. The day we met?”
I smiled. “Exactly. Nine years ago, I gave you that watch you still wear.”
“Uh… yeah…” he mumbled, not even trying to sound convincing.
“I made a reservation for our old spot by the lake. For eight,” I said, trying to hide the anger bubbling inside me.
Jason shifted uneasily in his chair. “Saturday’s tough. I have a big business meeting. It’s far.”
But then, like he remembered something important, he added, “But we’re not the type of couple that needs dates, right?”
I nodded, saying nothing more, but inside, I was already seeing the pieces fall into place.
Saturday arrived. I didn’t take Jamie to Martha’s.
“Sweetheart, we’re going to a party,” I told him, buttoning up his favorite shirt with a green dinosaur on it.
His eyes lit up. “Will there be cake?”
“Better,” I grinned. “Ice cream.”
I slipped into the blue dress I hadn’t worn in years—the same one I wore on our first date. I brushed my hair, added mascara, and looked in the mirror. I saw the woman I thought I’d lost.
We drove to Ashley’s house, and it was even bigger than I imagined. The backyard was buzzing with people, music blasting, and the smell of grilling meat in the air. I rang the bell.
Ashley answered, her smile faltering when she saw me.
“Um… can I help you?” she asked, clearly thrown off.
“I was invited,” I said sweetly, giving her a polite smile. “By your parents. We’re… family-adjacent.”
Her eyes flicked to Jamie, and her smile vanished completely. She hesitated, then stepped aside with a forced laugh. “I’ll go get them.”
She called to her parents, and two well-dressed people entered, looking confused.
“Good afternoon,” I said, my voice calm, but with a sharp edge. “Sorry to drop by unannounced. I just thought it was time I met the man dating your daughter… or, as I know him, my husband.”
Jason, drink in hand, froze. The color drained from his face as he looked at me. He didn’t even try to hide the shock.
“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, walking toward him. “Happy anniversary. I brought you a gift.”
Jamie peeked from behind my legs. “Hi, Daddy! Mommy said there’d be ice cream!”
Ashley gasped, stumbling backward. Her father’s jaw dropped. Her mother put a hand over her chest.
“Excuse me?!” her mother shouted.
“Jamie,” I said gently, “why don’t you go get some ice cream? Today’s a yes-day.”
Jamie ran off to the dessert table, thrilled. I turned back to Jason, took off my wedding ring, and dropped it into his hand with a loud clink. The sound of it was thunderous.
“I stood by you when you were broke, jobless, and couch-surfing,” I said, my voice rising. “I gave you a home. I gave you my trust. I gave you a son.”
Ashley’s eyes widened. “You have a son?” she demanded, looking at Jason. “You told me she didn’t have kids!”
Jason opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.
I turned to her parents. “He’s been waiting for my mother to die so he can take the apartment. Then he planned to marry your daughter—live in one house, rent out the other.”
Gasps exploded like fireworks.
“Wait… they’re married?” Ashley’s mother cried.
“Still am,” I said. “But not for long.”
Ashley’s face turned crimson.
“I heard it all,” I told her parents. “He was going to use you to get a house. Just be careful. Jason likes gifts. And when he gets them… he usually goes after the deed too.”
I turned on my heel.
“Come on, Jamie. These people have enough on their plate. Let’s go find some real ice cream.”
As we walked to the car, the voices behind me collided. “You son of a—”
“She’s telling the truth, isn’t she?!”
“You dragged us into this lie?!”
“ASHLEY, how could you not know?!”
I didn’t look back. I didn’t flinch. For once, I wasn’t the one who was going to fall apart.
Three months later, during the divorce hearing, Ashley’s parents testified—willingly—about the lies and the house. They were ashamed, but they did the right thing. With their help, and some evidence I had from my side gig as a taxi driver, I got everything. Jason was left with nothing but excuses.
I moved my mother in with us. We sold her old apartment and bought a new place by the coast—small, sunny, and quiet.
New beginnings, I learned, are like clean glass. Clear. Sharp. Honest.
And that life, I realized, was far better than anything Jason ever promised me. Because peace, I found, is the real luxury.
