I discovered a love letter from my spouse, which led to the dissolution of our marriage.
Up until she discovered a covert message in her husband David’s laundry, Nancy seemed to lead a secure life. David invites an unnamed woman to join him in celebrating their “seven-year anniversary” in a letter. What else does the dirty laundry tell us?
Mom allocated laundry as just another chore in our family. David helps with the cooking and the kids, but he never does the washing or the toilet.
David winced when I asked him to help out around the house. “I can’t do the hair in the drain,” he said.
It’s my hair. other than our daughter’s,” I chuckled.
Thus, “It’s still disgusting,” he replied.
However, the sounds of the washing machine and dryer soon became my favorite quiet pastime, and I was happy to have it all to myself.
Except for the one laundry day when they found more than simply dirty stains.
The soft crinkle of paper broke the random motions of my hands as I rummaged through my husband’s clothing. A neatly folded letter, innocent and beautiful, dropped from the folds of his shirt to the floor.
Happy anniversary, my love! These past seven years have been the finest of my life! Visit me at Obélix on Wednesday at 8:00 p.m. Wear crimson.
My husband’s penmanship was really unique. He wrote under extreme pressure, and his letters had loops.
A shiver ran down my back.
Seven years later? David and I have been wed for eighteen years. We have two girls. Six months remained till our anniversary.
And Obélix, the most elegant restaurant in the city? David had been very clear with me that we needed to reduce our spending.
His response was, “Nancy, we need to cook more at home.” Reduce the amount of takeout. The girls will simply need to adjust to the fact that we have been spending a lot of money lately.
“Are we having problems?” I inquired out of concern that we would get into an unanticipated financial jam.
“No, we aren’t,” David said me. “But being aware is just a good thing.”
Wednesday is coming up way too fast. I thought about it for days on end. I was curious about the contents of David’s secret letter. The day after I found it, I went back to check if the note was still in his shirt pocket, but it was gone.
I thought it was delivered, sealed, and signed.
That morning as I was getting started on breakfast, David said, “I’m working late tonight, honey.”
“Are you going to grab something, or should I leave you a plate?” I asked, knowing full well that he had a dinner appointment with a mysterious red-clad woman.
In addition to bringing his travel mug, he said, “I’ll get something on the way home.”
The day dragged on as I dropped off children at school and escorted the five boisterous schoolgirls to the afternoon lift club. However, I couldn’t get David off my mind.
I brought the girls back inside and prepared some snacks for them to eat while I sat outside trying to think of something to do.
When I called my mom to ask questions, she said, “You’ve got the time and the location, Nancy.”
So you think I ought to go? Really? I asked.
Naturally, I couldn’t wait to leave. I was going to witness David’s sin. But I didn’t want to do myself any harm.
Indeed. “This night, my love, is the cornerstone of your whole marriage,” she continued. “I understand that it will be challenging, but at least you will know what has to be done next.”
To which I said, “I suppose.”
“Don’t you think you owe it to the girls?” she asked.
I arranged for a babysitter because my mother could have looked after the girls, but there wasn’t enough time to get her and get to the restaurant in time.
Unsure of what to wear, I stood in front of my closet. I was torn between becoming a wallflower and doing nothing to make David miss me.
“Stop it, Nancy.” I said in front of the mirror. “You’re going to have courage.”
I slid into the gorgeous red dress that David purchased me for my birthday some time ago. The fit was perfect, though. And I remembered the conversation clearly.
“You’ve always been red,” David remarked as he took the garment out of its packaging.
I stared in the mirror, reflecting the looming fight, and I was brazen and aggressive. I felt deceived and angry, even though I knew I looked amazing.
I got to the restaurant a little early amid the clatter of glasses and the enthusiasm.
The other woman was standing there. She donned crimson like David had instructed. She smiled absently as she took shots of herself from various angles with her phone.
I took a big breath and sat down next to her, my back to the door. I wouldn’t be the first person David saw. He had to be there for me when I needed him.
When my husband walked in, the mood shifted. To my astonishment, he spoke to her with such intimacy and affection.
David used to look at me like way, too.
I sampled the wine I had bought because I needed something to help me relax.
David’s eyes were friendly, and he moved a chair so that he was sitting next to the woman instead of across from her. He had done the same to me. want my knee to be touched by his hand. He showed her a big bunch of flowers and a white box.
He moved in to kiss me and muttered, “Isabelle,” but the kiss lasted much too long. “Darling, you look amazing as always.”
She laughed quietly, just like she had when she took her previous selfie.
David, you’ve got a knack for making a woman feel unique. Already seven years? Is it true?
The warmth of his smile gave way to apprehension and a developing consciousness as our eyes met.
He quietly stood up and whispered to Isabelle that he had to go the restroom.
“David, don’t you dare!” I cried out.
He paused, his face turning to one of fear. Isabelle, now a confused and anxious mess, watched what happened.
David stood motionless between his wife and his secret admirer. I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he got ready for his next move.
I turned to Isabelle and introduced myself while trying not to appear overly nervous.
declaring that my name is Nancy. “David’s nearly 18-year-old wife.”
“What?” As she said, Isabelle’s face turned white. “I had no idea about this! David told me that because of your children, you two stayed friendly even after your split.
Isabelle tugged a lock of hair impatiently. It’s clear that she was as easily duped by David as I was.
My wife begged in his eyes for forgiveness or for the earth to burst forth and swallow him up. He opened his lips, but said nothing. The silence was intolerable.
Divided? David, you’re very creative.
Isabelle was staring at me, and I could see the tears welling up in her eyes.
She said, “I sincerely apologize,” “This is not something I ever wanted to be a part of.”
David remarked, “I never intended for it to get this far.”
I had no idea who he was referring to.
From Isabelle’s serviette came a stink. She was shaken, and I could see it.
But seven years? She never attempted to meet my daughters during their seven-year relationship. Or maybe come see me?
Was she blind to the gravity of the situation? or that there was more to their connection than romance?
I was unable to comprehend it. It didn’t work at all. David and I married not long after we graduated from high school. Despite the usual conflicts that married couples have, we were content. We were strong.
Until the note showed up, that is.
I thought back on all of our arguments; sure, it had been difficult at the moment, but we had always managed to resolve the conflict and win. I thought about David’s work trips and his many late nights.
I remembered the night I was enjoying ice cream in bed as David packed his things into a bag.
He said, “I’ll just be away for the weekend.”
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
“At a hotel,” he immediately replied. I won’t be alone, though. One of the guys and I will be sharing a room.
I nodded. I trusted him because he had never given me any reason to disbelieve it.
I reclined in my chair and watched David fight the need to comfort Isabelle. He was gripping his hands and had a sad expression on his face.
For me, that was the most painful thing. My husband wanted to phone this woman while I was there because he is so concerned about her.
I thought our union was still going strong. But at the same moment, my heart stopped beating.
“I’ll start the divorce process,” I said David as I picked up my purse.
“I’m not going to explain this to the girls; you should.”
As I left, the restaurant disappeared into thin air. As I walked to my car, I could feel the night air getting cooler. I had confessed my betrayal. I knew, though, that I still had a lot to learn.
I just needed to be strong for my girls. I knew that the divorce would ruin them and our family. David, however, touched my hand.
