I froze, the phone pressed to my ear, feeling like my world was spinning. Then, the line went dead. A second later, a text came through with an address. No words—just a location. It wasn’t familiar, but deep down, I knew. This wasn’t a work party. This wasn’t innocent.
My pulse raced as I stared at the screen. For a brief moment, I questioned everything. Was this real? Could Brian really be this cruel?
I didn’t cry. Not yet. Instead, I grabbed my coat, snatched my keys, and drove straight to the address. The lasagna I’d switched off could wait. If Brian thought I’d stay home, oblivious and clueless, he had another thing coming.
I knew this could be a prank, but I couldn’t risk not knowing the truth. I had to see it for myself. The GPS led me to a sleek Airbnb on the other side of town.
The place screamed “luxury,” with its grand entrance, sparkling windows, and immaculate landscaping. A row of fancy cars sat in the driveway, and inside, I could see a crowd laughing and drinking.
My stomach churned as I scanned the faces. Either Brian was about to get a shock, or maybe it would be me. We’d find out soon enough. As I walked toward the door, a doorman blocked my path. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
I forced a fake smile and said, “Hi, yes, I just need to drop something off for my husband.” I held up the toilet brush and cleaner in my bucket. The doorman looked confused, glancing between me and the bucket.
“Look, he’s the tall guy in the white T-shirt,” I explained.
The doorman hesitated but eventually stepped aside. As I walked inside, all eyes turned toward me. I must’ve looked ridiculous—disheveled from cleaning and holding a bucket.
And then I saw him.
There was Brian, standing in the middle of the room, his arm casually draped around a young woman in a tight red dress. He looked more alive than I’d seen him in years, laughing and sipping champagne, oblivious to everything.
Every part of me wanted to rush over and confront him, but another part whispered, “Be smart. Don’t just react. Make it count.” Brian saw me almost immediately. His face drained of color, and he took a step back, nearly spilling his drink.
“Emily?” he stammered, pulling away from the woman. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, loud enough for everyone to hear. “You left something at home.”
Brian blinked, confused. I reached into my bucket and pulled out rubber gloves, a toilet brush, and a bottle of cleaner.
