I thought my life finally belonged to me until my husband’s “surprise” birthday party brought back the one man I’d spent ten years hiding from… And he walked straight up to my son. I always thought I was one of those women who had lived two completely separate lives — the one I’d been forced to survive before forty, and the one I’d built afterward. The second one was soft, predictable, and almost boring in the best possible way.
I had Grant — steady, patient Grant, who loved me without question. I had Aidan — my whole world, my little boy who made even Mondays feel like birthdays. And I had peace, the kind I used to think was reserved for other people.
For ten years, life had been good. More than good, it was mine. So when I noticed Grant sneaking out early on calls, whispering to Aidan in the hallway, and ordering strange packages I wasn’t allowed to open, I didn’t panic.
I knew what he was doing. My fiftieth birthday was around the corner, and my husband was terrible at hiding surprises. “Do you think he’s planning something big?” my friend Nina asked over lunch a week before.
“Oh, absolutely,” I laughed, sipping my coffee. “He thinks I don’t notice the bakery receipts or the flower delivery notifications. I’m just pretending to be oblivious.
It’s part of the fun.”
And it was. I let myself look forward to the moment when I’d walk into a room filled with people I loved, music, and maybe too much cake. I’d been through enough in life to earn one perfect birthday.
***
The day came on a Thursday. I worked late on purpose, giving Grant and Aidan plenty of time to pull off whatever they were plotting. When I got home, the lights in the house were off.
My heart jumped — he was really doing this. I pushed the door open. The lights flashed on, and a burst of confetti exploded in the air.
Balloons, streamers, a banner that read “Fifty and Fabulous!” — the whole thing. I laughed, pressing my hand to my chest. “Oh my God!
You guys…”
Grant appeared from the crowd with Aidan in his arms. “Happy birthday, beautiful,” he said, kissing my cheek. “We got you.”
I was ready to cry from happiness until I started looking around.
Faces. Dozens of them. Some I recognized instantly: my old coworkers from a job I’d left over a decade ago, an ex-neighbor from a town I’d moved away from, even my former dentist.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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