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We’ve been catching up. Nothing more.”
“Friends who plan secret meetings at weddings. Friends who discuss how disappointed he is in his current wife.
I pulled out my phone and showed them both the screenshots I’d taken of their email thread. Richard’s face went white. “Here’s the thing, both of you.
I don’t really care what your relationship is or isn’t. What I care about is that you thought you could humiliate me at my own family’s wedding.”
“That wasn’t our intention,” Stephanie said. “Wasn’t it?
You coordinated your stories, figured out the guest list, planned your little reunion down to the last detail. What exactly did you think would happen when people saw Richard with a beautiful woman who isn’t his wife?”
“People would think we’re business associates,” Richard said weakly. “People would think exactly what they’re thinking right now, that my husband is cheating on me.”
I gestured toward the windows where several wedding guests were indeed watching our heated conversation with great interest.
“So, here’s what’s going to happen. You’re both going to walk back into that reception and act like nothing happened. You’re going to stay on opposite sides of the room, and at the end of the night, you’re going to leave separately and never contact each other again.”
“And if we don’t?” Stephanie asked.
Richard grabbed my arm. “Amber, you’re overreacting. Let’s go home and discuss this rationally.”
“Oh, we’re definitely going to discuss this, but not here and not with her present.”
I shook off his grip and smiled at both of them.
“Enjoy the rest of the wedding. It’s going to be the last party you attend together.”
But I was wrong about that, because what happened next would make this conversation look like polite small talk. We stayed at the reception for another two hours, playing our roles like actors in the world’s most dysfunctional theater production.
Richard stuck to my side like glue, probably afraid of what I might say to whom. Stephanie mingled carefully, staying far away from us, but close enough that I could feel her presence like a toothache. I danced with my brother, made small talk with relatives, and smiled until my face hurt.
But underneath the performance, I was calculating, planning, preparing for the confrontation that would end my marriage. “You seem different tonight,” my brother Michael observed during our dance. “More, I don’t know, focused.”
“Everything okay with you and Richard? He looks like he swallowed something unpleasant.”
“I think he’s about to,” I said, and Michael raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press further. When the reception finally ended, Richard and I drove home in complete silence.
The tension in the car was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. He kept glancing at me like I was a bomb that might explode at any moment. He wasn’t wrong.
We pulled into our circular driveway and Richard finally spoke. “Amber, I know you’re upset, but we can work through this.”
“Can we? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’ve been planning to replace me for months.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?
Let me ask you something, Richard. When exactly were you planning to tell me about Stephanie? Before or after you filed for divorce?”
His silence was deafening.
We walked into our house and Richard immediately went into damage control mode. “Look, I admit I handled this badly, but nothing physical happened between us. We’re just friends who have history.”
“Friends don’t plan secret meetings at family weddings, Richard.
It wasn’t secret? You were just going to see each other at a social event without telling your wife. That’s literally the definition of secret.”
He sat down heavily on our white leather sofa.
And for the first time, he looked genuinely defeated. “What do you want me to say, Amber? That I’ve been unhappy?
That I’ve been questioning our marriage? Fine, I have been.”
“Thank you for finally being honest. But that doesn’t mean I want a divorce.
It doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means you love the idea of someone else more.”
“That’s not fair.”
“You know what’s not fair, Richard? Finding out your husband thinks you’re a disappointment by reading his emails to another woman.
Finding out he’s been planning to parade his ex-girlfriend around at your brother’s wedding. Finding out that the man you’ve been trying so hard to please thinks you’re not worth the effort.”
“I never said that.”
“You said I was holding back your success. You said I didn’t appreciate the finer things.
You said you needed someone who matched your ambition. What exactly did you mean by all that?”
He couldn’t answer because we both knew what he’d meant. “Here’s the thing, Richard.
You were right about one thing. I have been holding back your success, but not in the way you think.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that for five years, I’ve been supporting your career, managing your social obligations, and making you look good to everyone who matters. And I’ve been doing it while you’ve been tearing me down piece by piece.”
“That’s not what I was doing.”
“Isn’t it?
When was the last time you complimented me without following it with a criticism? When was the last time you supported something I wanted to do? When was the last time you treated me like a partner instead of an employee?”
The silence stretched between us like a chasm.
“I want a divorce, Richard.”
His face went completely white. “Amber, please don’t make any decisions you’ll regret.”
“The only thing I regret is not making this decision sooner.”
“You don’t understand what you’re saying. The prenup—”
“Oh, I understand the prenup perfectly, especially the infidelity clause.”
And that’s when he realized how much trouble he was really in.
Richard’s face went through several color changes, white to red to gray to green, as the implications of what I’d said sank in. “The infidelity clause,” he repeated weakly. “Section seven of our prenuptual agreement, Richard, the one your lawyer insisted on including to protect your assets in case I ever cheated on you.
Funny how these things work out.”
“I didn’t cheat on you. Nothing physical happened with Stephanie.”
“Emotional infidelity counts, and we both know it. Months of intimate correspondence with another woman.
Planning secret meetings. Discussing your dissatisfaction with your current wife. That’s adultery in the eyes of the law.”
“No court would enforce that clause based on a few emails.”
“A few emails?”
I pulled out my phone and started scrolling.
“I count 47 separate conversations over six months. Discussions of your unhappiness in our marriage, plans to meet at family events, Stephanie encouraging you to follow your heart and find someone who deserves your success.”
I looked up at him with the kind of smile that probably made serial killers nervous. “Want me to read some of the more intimate parts out loud?
The part where you told her you think about her when you’re lying next to me? The part where she said she never should have let you go?”
Richard’s breathing was getting shallow and rapid. “Amber, please think about what you’re doing.
If you invoke that clause, I lose everything. The business, the house, the investments, everything I’ve worked for.”
“Yes, you do.”
“That would destroy me.”
“Good.”
“You can’t mean that.”
“I absolutely mean that. You spent months planning to humiliate me, Richard.
You brought your mistress to my brother’s wedding. You’ve spent our entire marriage making me feel like I’m not good enough for you. Now you get to find out what losing everything feels like.”
He stood up and started pacing again, his panic increasing by the minute.
“Amber, I’ll end things with Stephanie completely. We’ll go to counseling. I’ll do whatever you want.”
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