I got home early that evening, something I hadn’t done in weeks. As soon as I stepped through the front door, Greg greeted me with a wide, almost too-cheerful smile. His eyes were bright, and his whole face lit up in a way that felt… off. Then came the real surprise—he offered to massage my feet. Greg had never, not once in our entire marriage, volunteered to do something like that.
I wanted to believe it was just kindness. Maybe he was in a good mood. Maybe he was finally making an effort. But then, from down the hall, I heard it—a soft, almost imperceptible click. The sound of a door closing.
And in that moment, I knew.
Greg was hiding something. Something big. Something that would change everything.
Six years ago, my life was completely different. I was 29, newly single after ending a long-term relationship, and convinced I’d never find love again.
Then, one evening, Greg walked into my life like he had been sent there on purpose.
I was at a bar, sitting alone with a glass of wine, lost in my thoughts after a long day at work. That’s when he appeared—tall, confident, and carrying an effortless charm that made the whole room seem to buzz around him.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, pointing to the empty barstool beside me.
I glanced up at him, slightly startled. He had a twinkle in his eye, the kind that made you think he had the whole world figured out. I hesitated, then nodded. “Go ahead.”
He slid onto the stool and grinned. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Let me guess—accountant?”
I laughed despite myself. “Close. Marketing.”
“Aha!” He snapped his fingers as if he had just cracked a mystery. “I knew it. You’ve got that creative, problem-solving energy.”
I couldn’t help but smile. From the moment he started talking, Greg made me feel like I was the most interesting person in the room. That night turned into the beginning of something new. We talked for hours, and before I knew it, we were dating. Within a year, we were married.
At first, our life together was wonderful. He was charming, affectionate, and made me feel like I could do anything. I believed he brought out the best in me.
But then… things changed.
Little by little, I started noticing things that didn’t sit right with me. Greg didn’t want kids. Every time I brought it up, he dodged the conversation or said, “It’s not the right time.” Deep down, I knew the truth—he was never going to change his mind. That crushed me because I had always dreamed of a big family.
And then there was how he treated me compared to everyone else. If his brother needed help moving, Greg was there in an instant. If his friends wanted to hang out, he would cancel our plans without a second thought. When I needed him? He always had an excuse. I tried to tell myself it was just how he was, that it wasn’t personal. But it hurt.
Our marriage slowly settled into something… quiet. Too quiet. We weren’t fighting, but we also weren’t talking. The spark that had once burned so brightly between us had dimmed into nothing more than a flickering ember. We had become strangers living under the same roof.
That night, as I stood in our living room, exhausted from a long day at work, Greg’s enthusiasm felt like a foreign language.
“Long day?” he asked, his smile widening as he leaned in to kiss my cheek.
I nodded, dropping my bag on the console table. “Exhausting.”
“Perfect!” he said, clapping his hands together. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll give you a foot massage.”
I blinked. “Are you serious?”
“Of course,” he said, already guiding me to the couch. “You deserve to be pampered.”
This was not the Greg I knew. Suspicion crept into my mind, but I was too tired to question it. I let him slip off my shoes and begin massaging my feet. His hands were surprisingly gentle, moving in slow circles.
“This is… nice,” I murmured, closing my eyes.
He let out a nervous laugh, a little too loud. “Can’t a guy spoil his wife without it being suspicious?”
That’s when I heard it. A soft click from down the hall.
Instantly, my body tensed. My mind went on high alert.
I sat up straight. “Did you hear that?”
Greg’s hand froze for a split second before he forced a laugh. “It’s probably just the pipes. You know how this old house is.”
My stomach tightened. “Greg,” I said slowly, “what’s going on?”
“Nothing!” he said, his voice an octave too high. “You’re just tired. Sit down, relax—”
Ignoring him, I got up and walked toward the bathroom.
“Wait!” he called, his voice laced with panic. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t stop. My pulse pounded in my ears. Each step felt heavier than the last.
When I reached the bathroom, I pushed the door open.
The air inside was warm and humid. The mirror was still slightly fogged as if someone had just taken a shower. Then, my eyes landed on something small but undeniable—a tube of crimson lipstick lying on the counter.
I picked it up and turned to face Greg, who was now standing in the doorway, his face pale.
“Whose is this?” I demanded.
“Uh… it’s yours?” he tried weakly.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Greg, you know I don’t wear this color.”
Before he could respond, a muffled sneeze came from the bedroom.
My breath hitched.
I turned to Greg, whose forehead was now slick with sweat.
“Care to explain that?” I asked icily.
Greg stammered. “It’s nothing. I swear—”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. My feet carried me forward before my mind could catch up.
I threw open the closet door.
A woman crouched inside, clutching a pair of high heels to her chest. Her hair was mussed, and she was wearing a silk robe that I instantly recognized as mine.
I stared at her, my body vibrating with fury. “Who are you?”
She stood slowly, her face flushed. “This isn’t what it looks like.”
I turned to Greg. “Explain. Now.”
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
The woman fidgeted. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home.”
That was it. The final blow.
My voice was steady, but firm. “Both of you—get out. Now.”
Greg pleaded, “Babe, let’s talk about this—”
“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe.’”
Within minutes, they were gone. And just like that, so was Greg—from my home, from my life, from my future.
I stood there for a long time, my heart pounding. Then, something shifted.
I was free.
The next day, I filed for divorce. And for the first time in years, I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.
Hope.
