My heart still aches just thinking about that day.
It started like any other Tuesday morning, sunshine streaming into our bedroom, the scent of coffee brewing downstairs.
I was tidying up, humming along to the radio, feeling grateful for my seemingly perfect life.
Mark and I had built everything together, brick by brick, dream by dream, over fifteen years.
Or so I thought.
He was away on a 'business trip' – a frequent occurrence these past few months.
I missed him, but I trusted him implicitly.
He'd called, sounding tired but loving, telling me he couldn't wait to be home.
Later, I decided to finally clean out the old filing cabinet in his study.
It was mostly full of old tax documents and forgotten trinkets.
I knelt down, pulling open the bottom drawer, which always stuck a little.
As I rummaged through stacks of dusty papers, my fingers brushed against something hard and unexpected tucked right at the very back.
It was wrapped in a piece of delicate silk, tied with a silver ribbon.
My first thought was, "Oh, maybe it's an anniversary gift he hid for me."
A tiny flutter of anticipation sparked in my chest.
I carefully untied the ribbon, my smile widening as the silk fell away.
Beneath it was a leather-bound album, embossed with intricate silver scrollwork.
It looked exactly like a wedding album.
My wedding album was in our main living room, proudly displayed on the coffee table.
This one was unfamiliar.
My hands trembled slightly as I traced the cover, a cold dread beginning to seep into my bones.
This couldn’t be right.
I slowly opened the album, and my world tilted violently on its axis.
The first page showed a photo, clear as day, vibrant with joy.
It was Mark.
But he wasn't standing next to me.
He was beaming, his arm around a beautiful woman I had never seen before.
She was in a white gown, a veil adorning her radiant face.
They were cutting a cake.
They were exchanging rings.
They were kissing.
The pictures unfurled page after agonizing page, each one a fresh stab to my heart.
A full, elaborate wedding.
A church.
Guests.
A reception.
A life I knew nothing about.
My fingers went numb, the album suddenly too heavy to hold, crashing onto the wooden floor with a sickening thud.
My breath hitched, catching painfully in my throat.
