A Car Crash on Our Anniversary Revealed His Secret

They say a devoted woman is no match for a persistent man. That couldn't be more true.

I said yes when he asked me out. We became a couple, and I gave him every piece of my heart.

I devoted myself entirely to him because I believed that was what a relationship was supposed to look like.

But once Conrad had me, the fire he'd carried during the chase quietly burned out.

From school uniforms to a wedding gown, we spent seven years together. He took my devotion for granted, convinced in some unshakable way that no matter what he did, I would never leave.

The truth is, I didn't find out about Alberta late. The year we were about to graduate college, I met her for the first time.

Conrad introduced her as a classmate, someone he'd known from elementary school all the way through high school.

Something about her face felt familiar, though I couldn't place it at first. It took me a while to realize the reason: she looked a little like me.

The thought crept in. Had Conrad pursued me because I resembled Alberta?

I asked him once. His answer was brief: “There's no comparison between you two.”

I took that to mean I mattered more.

Later, Conrad told me Alberta's family had moved away near the end of high school. She was back now because her parents had died in a car accident. Out of a family of three, she was the only one left.

“Albie's been through a lot. Don't be upset if I spend more time with her.”

What was I supposed to say to that? If I objected, I'd be the one without a heart.

From then on, Alberta became a regular fixture in our dates. After graduation, Conrad and I got married as planned.

A few times he let Alberta's problems interfere with our plans, but I told myself he was just helping a friend. I didn't say much about it.

But they kept getting closer, and closer, until the accident a week ago forced my eyes open. Whatever was between them was anything but simple.

Maybe I'd sensed it earlier. Maybe I'd been playing dumb on purpose, telling myself that if I just loved Conrad well enough, everything would be fine.

But Conrad was so certain I'd never leave. Being ignored by the person you love when you need them most is a kind of pain that settles into your bones.

If it hurt that much, then it was time to end it. I wasn't the kind of woman who'd stay just to suffer.

I went to the bedroom and started packing. I didn't own much. A few pieces of clothing, a few books. It took less than five minutes.

Over ninety percent of the closet was his. Many of those clothes I'd picked out for him, bought for him. Staring at all those carefully chosen pieces felt surreal, like looking at evidence from someone else's life.

Another feeling surfaced alongside it. I had poured a hundred percent of myself into him, into this home. And in the end, what had I gotten back?

One small suitcase held everything that was mine. I left the lights off and sat on the couch, waiting for Conrad to come home.

I wasn't sure he'd show up. I didn't want to confront him or hear his excuses. I just wanted to end it to his face.

While I waited, memories kept flickering through my mind. The sweet moments had outnumbered the rest, once.

But even the sweetest memories were just that now. The past.

I waited until eleven before Conrad finally walked through the door.

When he flipped on the light and saw me sitting there, there was no guilt on his face. If anything, his tone was reproachful. “You got discharged and didn't even tell me? I was going to pick you up tomorrow.”

He said it like it was nothing. Not a single word about where he'd been all week. Not a flicker of remorse for never showing up at the hospital.

I looked up at him. He was wearing the cashmere coat I'd bought him. His hair was styled without a strand out of place, and a faint smile lingered on his lips. There wasn't a trace of the exhaustion you'd expect from someone who'd been tending to a friend in need. He looked like a man who'd just come back from a date.