My Husband Danced With Her Like I Was Nothing — So I Vanished Without a Word. My husband barely glanced up as I placed my wedding ring on the table beside them, too entranced by the woman in his arms to register the weight of what I was leaving behind. “Keep dancing with her, James.
You won’t even notice I’m gone.”
What he didn’t know was that I had spent the last six months preparing for this exact moment, and by tomorrow morning, I would be completely out of reach.
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I stood at the edge of the crowded ballroom, watching my husband of eleven years spin Victoria Bennett across the dance floor at the Oceanside Resort Charity Gala. James had always been an impressive dancer—one of the many talents that had attracted me to him when we met at law school fifteen years ago.
Tonight, his custom-tailored tuxedo emphasized his athletic build as he guided Victoria through a complicated tango sequence.
Her crimson gown—designed by a former client of my interior design business—complemented his black tie perfectly, as if they had coordinated their outfits. “They make quite the pair, don’t they?” Diane Murphy commented, appearing beside me with her signature martini in hand. As the wife of James’s law partner and my supposed friend, her tone suggested she was testing my reaction rather than offering support.
“They certainly do,” I agreed, my voice steadier than I expected.
“James has always appreciated beautiful dance partners.”
Diane studied my face, clearly disappointed by my composure. “Victoria’s been working closely with the partners on the Westlake development.
She’s quite… dedicated to the project.”
The Westlake development—a luxury residential complex that had consumed James’s time and attention for the past eight months. The project that required late nights, weekend meetings, and business trips that grew increasingly frequent and poorly documented.
“I’m sure she is,” I replied, taking a deliberate sip of my champagne.
In the relative quiet of the marble-lined restroom, I checked my appearance in the mirror. At 38, I still had the high cheekbones and clear skin that had once landed me occasional modeling jobs to supplement my college tuition. My dark hair was swept into an elegant updo, showcasing the diamond earrings James had given me for our tenth anniversary—earrings I had discovered were significantly less valuable than the matching necklace Victoria had been wearing at last month’s firm dinner.
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