My husband said he was going to Toronto for a two-year work assignment. I saw him off in tears. The moment I got home, I transferred the entire $650,000 from our joint account.
The next day, I went to the courthouse and filed for divorce.
The terminal at O’Hare International Airport was bustling with people. I held Mark’s hand tightly, tears streaming down my face uncontrollably.
“Mark, do you really have to be gone for two whole years?” I asked, my voice choked with emotion.
Mark gently wiped my tears away, his own voice filled with reluctance. “Hannah, you know how important this project is for my career. Two years will fly by. I’ll video call you all the time, but I’ll miss you.”
I buried my head in his chest. He patted my back softly.
“Silly girl, I’ll miss you too, but this is a huge opportunity for our future,” he said. “When I come back, we’ll have enough money to finally put a down payment on a house in a good neighborhood.”
The boarding announcement echoed through the hall. Mark kissed my forehead deeply. “Wait for me.”
I stood frozen, watching his back disappear through the security checkpoint until my vision blurred with tears. The travelers around me hurried past, no one noticing the weeping woman in the corner. I wiped my eyes with a tissue, took a deep breath, and turned to leave the airport.
In the back of the Uber, I leaned against the window, watching the familiar Chicago streets blur past. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
“Seeing someone off?” he asked.
I nodded, not saying a word.
“Seeing you so upset? Must be a boyfriend or husband.”
“My husband,” I replied softly.
The driver sighed. “It’s tough for young couples these days, having to live apart for work, but don’t you worry, a good man always comes back.”
I managed a faint smile but didn’t respond. The car soon arrived at our condo building in Lincoln Park. I paid the fare and walked into the home Mark and I had shared.
The empty apartment echoed with my footsteps. I stood in the entryway, looking at the pair of slippers he’d left behind by the door, and a bitter laugh escaped my lips. I kicked off my heels, walked barefoot into the living room, and sank onto the sofa.
Pulling my phone from my purse, I opened my banking app. The balance of our joint account was displayed clearly: $650,482.17.
This was our entire life savings from five years of marriage. My paycheck was direct deposited into this account every month. Mark said it was better for financial management. I never questioned it because I trusted him. I trusted our marriage.
Until three days ago.
That afternoon, I left work early to surprise Mark. As I approached our building, I saw him walking out of a cafe down the street with another woman. Her arm was linked through his, and they were laughing intimately.
I froze. Mark didn’t see me. He walked the woman to the curb and hailed a cab for her. Before she got in, Mark leaned down and kissed her on the cheek.
I hid behind a large oak tree, my heart feeling like it was being squeezed in a vice, the pain making it hard to breathe. After the cab drove off, Mark turned and walked back toward our building. I didn’t confront him. Instead, I took the long way around and went home.
That night, Mark came home acting completely normal.
“Hannah, sorry, had a late meeting at the office. Have you eaten?” He walked over and kissed my cheek casually.
I fought back the urge to recoil. “I ate already,” I said with a smile. “I saved you a plate in the oven.”
“You’re the best, babe.” He smiled and went to the kitchen to heat his dinner.
I sat in the living room, watching his back as he moved about, and suddenly, he felt like a complete stranger. After dinner, Mark brought it up, as if it were an afterthought.
“Oh, by the way, Hannah, the company has a big project in Toronto. They want me to lead it. I might have to be there for two years.”
My hand trembled, nearly knocking over my glass of water. “Two years? That’s so long.”
“Yeah, it’s a long-term project, but it’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. My boss said if I pull this off, I’m guaranteed a promotion to Vice President when I get back.” His eyes shone with excitement.
“Then, what about me?” I asked in a small voice.
Mark came over and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “You just keep working here. I’ll send you money for living expenses every month. Two years will be over before you know it. When I get back, we’ll be set for life.”
I leaned against his shoulder and closed my eyes, tears silently tracing paths down my cheeks. In that moment, I understood everything. He wasn’t going to Toronto for a project. He was going to be with that woman.
The work assignment was nothing but an elaborate lie. The next day, I took a personal day. I needed to know the truth.
I hired a private investigator recommended by a college friend. The PI’s name was Kevin Vance, a man in his late thirties who seemed professional and reliable.
“So, Ms. Miller, what can I help you investigate?” Kevin asked, sitting across from me in a quiet coffee shop.
I told him everything, including the scene I had witnessed.
Kevin nodded. “I understand. In situations like this, if there’s infidelity, there’s usually a trail. Give me a week. I’ll get you a full report.”
“Thank you.” I stood up to leave.
“Ms. Miller,” Kevin called after me. “Sometimes the truth can be harsh. Are you prepared for what you might find?”
I gave him a wry smile. “No matter how harsh it is, I need to know.”
For the next few days, I lived a lie. I went to work, came home, cooked dinner for Mark, and we’d chat about our day. On the surface, we were the same loving couple, but I knew my heart was dead.
Mark was busy preparing for his trip, booking flights, packing, arranging his visa. He was completely absorbed in the excitement of his new life, utterly oblivious to my changed demeanor.
A week later, Kevin met me at the same coffee shop. He handed me a large manila envelope. “Ms. Miller, here’s the report.”