Echoes of the Past Years

The fortune teller said my husband would cheat in our fifth year of marriage. Jackson just laughed and kicked over her stall.

“Elizabeth and I have been together for eight years. It’s none of your business, you fraud!”

For four years, he spoiled me and gave me everything. Then his junior, Noelle, confessed to him in tears.

Jackson ripped the love letter in front of everyone. He swore to cut her off and end our friendship. After that, I trusted him even more.

On our fifth anniversary, I got an anonymous package. Inside was a photo of Jackson and Noelle kissing passionately.

On the back was neat handwriting: [Elizabeth, he loves you, but he sleeps with me. It’s only fair this way.]

At the bottom of the box was a pink lace bra, just like the one in the photo. I sat in the living room for three hours.

I didn’t call Jackson, who was coming home late. Instead, I asked my lawyer to prepare divorce papers and set them on the table.

——

Around midnight, Jackson came home in a black coat. When he saw what was in front of me, his face went pale.

“Everything you need to know is right there,” I said coldly. “Sign the divorce papers.”

He ignored me. He ripped the photo to pieces and tossed the lace bra into the trash. “She set me up! I was drunk at that party and she dragged me to a hotel, took photos and edited them! She’s jealous because I rejected her and now she wants to ruin our marriage!”

But his smell gave him away. His usual cedar scent was mixed with another perfume today.

When I didn’t react, Jackson grew angry. “Elizabeth, we’ve been together eight years and just celebrated our fifth anniversary. You trust a stranger over me?”

I still insisted he sign, but he laughed. “Fine, I’ll have her explain.” He grabbed his phone, called and shouted, “Noelle, if you harass Elizabeth again, I’ll kill you!”

He stepped onto the balcony to make a call. When he came back, Jackson looked tired and pleaded, “Elizabeth, I’ll take care of this. Just give me some time. Don’t talk about divorce.”

I nodded. “Fine, I’ll give you time.”

He sighed in relief and came to hug me.

I stepped away and said, “I’m tired. I’ll sleep in the guest room.”

He stopped and stared at me, his face going pale.

That night, I couldn’t sleep. Around 3 a.m., I got up for water and heard sounds coming from the study.

The study door was slightly open and I saw my usually confident husband holding the pink lace ribbon that should have been in the trash.

His eyes were red as he cried and breathed heavily. Then he whispered one word, “Noelle.”

In that moment, something inside me broke. The fortune teller was wrong. Jackson hadn’t cheated in our fifth year; his heart and body had been apart long before that.

The next day, I still wanted a divorce, but Jackson wouldn’t sign. He came home on time every day with my favorite pink roses, thinking that would fix everything.