When Liam’s birthday approached, I was excited to plan a heartfelt surprise. I spent the morning cooking his favorite lasagna and decorating the house, ready to celebrate our three-year anniversary. But that afternoon, Liam told me he had to leave immediately for an urgent business trip—another one of those last-minute work emergencies that had become far too common. Disappointed but understanding, I watched him leave, promising we’d celebrate when he returned.
The next morning, while preparing breakfast, my mom called to ask about our weekend plans. I explained that Liam had to travel for work, and that we’d postponed the celebration. Sensing my disappointment, she invited me to spend the day with her. We ended up going shopping together for a friend’s baby shower gift. It felt good to be distracted.
As we walked past a cozy local restaurant, my mom suddenly stopped and pointed inside. There, in one of the booths, was Liam—clearly not out of town. And sitting beside him was Mandy, my close friend. They looked far too comfortable, sharing a quiet, personal moment that didn’t match the story I had been told. My heart sank.
My mom quietly took a photo and led me away, her calmness surprising me. “Let’s not react just yet,” she said. “Let’s make sure the truth comes out.”
The following days were filled with reflection and quiet planning. When Liam returned, I acted as if everything was normal. But that weekend, we hosted a small dinner with Mandy and her husband, Steve. I had invited them under the pretense of a surprise announcement.
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