Dinner Is Cold
Dinner was ready—yet my husband never showed. The kids sat at the table, glancing at the clock, while I stared at my untouched plate.
No calls, no texts. I picked up my phone and called him. It rang once before a woman’s voice answered. The second I heard her voice, I knew.
He wasn’t working late. He wasn’t stuck in traffic. He was having dinner with his mistress. Instead of falling apart, I made my own plans.
Hours later, when my husband finally walked through the door, laughing, he froze…