My husband started coming late from work, constant excuses. I felt offended, but I also work and look after the house, so there was no time to be sad. On my birthday, I set the table and sat down to wait for him.
The doorbell rang, I opened the door, and there stood a young woman, no older than twenty-two, holding a small paper bag. She looked nervous. I remember her hands shaking slightly as she held out the bag.
“Hi… um, are you Mrs. Chaudhari?”
I blinked. “Yes, that’s me.”
She swallowed.
“I… I’m sorry to bother you. But I think we need to talk.”
The bag smelled faintly like Chinese takeout. Inside was a small white box with a slice of cake, and a folded note taped to the lid.
I hadn’t even said a word when she added, “It’s your birthday, right?”
That’s when my chest tightened. I didn’t know whether to be scared or just… confused. I stepped aside and let her in.
She introduced herself as Neha. Said she was a receptionist at a physiotherapy clinic near where my husband worked. Said she’d been “seeing” him for about two months.
I didn’t believe it at first. I wanted to laugh. I almost asked if this was some kind of prank.
But then she pulled out her phone and showed me messages. His name in her contacts. His face in selfies.
Her in the passenger seat of our car. I sat down. The candles on the cake I’d lit myself flickered while my hands went cold.
“I didn’t know he was married,” she said, eyes full of guilt. “He told me he was divorced. He never mentioned you.”
She’d found out just two days ago, by accident—saw our wedding photo on his phone screen when he handed it to her to check a video.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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