When my sister Sophie discovered her husband’s affair, I was ready to help her plot the ultimate revenge. But instead of anger, she shocked me with a smile and joy. That moment unraveled the truth behind her so-called perfect marriage.
Sophie and Ethan have been the golden couple for as long as I can remember. They were the family’s shining example of what marriage should look like. Their life seemed perfect: a big, beautiful house, fancy vacations, and Ethan always doting on Sophie when we were around.
I couldn’t help but compare myself to her. I’d think about my own failed relationships and wonder why I couldn’t have what Sophie had. That’s why her phone call last Saturday floored me.
“I need you to come over,” she said. Her voice was steady, but it sounded… off.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, already feeling a knot form in my stomach. She hesitated. “I found out Ethan’s cheating.”
“What?” I almost dropped the phone.
“How do you know? Did he tell you?”
“No, he didn’t tell me,” she said with a sharp edge. “I saw a text pop up on his phone.
It wasn’t exactly subtle.”
“What did it say?”
“‘Last night was amazing, can’t wait to see you again.’ That’s what it said.”
I sat in stunned silence. Then, anger took over. “I’ll be there soon.
Don’t do anything without me.”
I stormed into Sophie’s house like a tornado, ready to burn Ethan’s world to the ground. “Okay,” I said the moment I saw her, “here’s what we’re gonna do. We expose him.
Post those texts online. Or we could smash his car — something dramatic.”
Sophie didn’t look how I expected. She wasn’t crying or shaking.
She was calm. “No, we’re not doing any of that,” she said, sitting on the couch with her hands folded in her lap. “What do you mean, ‘no’?” I stared at her.
“He deserves it, Sophie. This isn’t the time to be calm.”
She smiled, and it sent a chill through me. “I’m not angry.
I’m relieved.”
I blinked. “Relieved? You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all,” she said.
“Honestly? I thought this day would never come!”
“What are you talking about? You wanted to divorce him all this time or what?” I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
She motioned for me to sit down. “No! Come here.
I’ll show you.”
I followed her to the bedroom, still fuming. She pulled open the drawer of her nightstand and took out a small, worn diary. Pressed flowers peeked out from between the pages.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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