Fifty-Two Trips Too Late

From dating to marriage, seven years together, Kevin Fletcher bailed on fifty-two trips with me.

Every single time, he had an excuse. A project deadline. A last-minute business trip. An elderly relative who suddenly wasn't doing well.

And every single time, he promised he'd make it up to me.

I believed him.

Fifty-two times.

Until last month, when I found a travel planner tucked away in his study.

Inside were fifty-two plane tickets to the same city.

And fifty-two photos of him and his so-called childhood friend, Fiona Snow.

Written on the first photo:

[She said she wanted to see the ocean, so I cleared my schedule and took her.]

On the thirty-third:

[She got drunk and said her biggest regret was never starting a family with me.]

The fifty-second photo was dated the same day he blew off our fifth wedding anniversary trip.

On the back, he'd written:

[She's pregnant. I'm going to be a dad!]

I wiped my tears away, opened my laptop, and drafted the divorce papers.

Then I booked a ticket to Antarctica.

This time, I was going to see the view alone.

It was past midnight when Kevin stumbled through the door, reeking of alcohol.

The second he saw the photos and divorce papers on the coffee table, he froze.

The color drained from his face.

I shoved the papers and a pen toward him.

"Sign it. I'm not sharing my husband."

He didn't.

Instead, he crossed the room, crouched in front of me, and launched into an explanation.

"Fiona's been dealing with depression for years. She keeps threatening to kill herself if she can't see me. I can't just abandon someone I grew up with. She's like a little sister—"

"'Little sister'?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"What kind of 'little sister' ends up in your bed and gets pregnant with your kid?"

Panic flickered across his face.

"It's not mine. She wrote that herself. There's nothing going on between us!"

When I didn't respond, he frowned.

Like he was the one being wronged.

"We've been together for seven years. Don't you trust me at all?"

I was done listening to excuses.

I shoved the pen back toward him.

He let out a laugh. "Fine. I'll call her right now. We'll clear this up."

He pulled out his phone and dialed. The call connected almost immediately. He switched on speaker.

"Fiona, did you write that nonsense on the photo on purpose? Avery's upset."

On the other end, Fiona sounded shocked before breaking into tears.

"I'm sorry. I was just joking. I didn't think Avery would find out—"

"Whatever happens to you from now on, I'm not showing up anymore. Stop trying to come between us."

Kevin hung up without hesitation.

He looked at me, eyes full of desperation.

"See? It was all a misunderstanding. It's cleared up now. You can hit me or yell at me, but don't talk about divorce, okay?"

Maybe I would've believed him before.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was that all fifty-two photos had been taken on the days he was supposed to be traveling with me.

How was I supposed to just let that go?

How was I supposed to believe the baby Fiona was carrying wasn't his?

When I didn't respond, he lifted his head and pushed himself up. Bracing his hands on either side of me, he tried to pull me into his arms and carry me toward the bedroom.

"You've been exhausted lately. That's why you're overthinking everything. Let's have our own baby. Once we have a child, you won't be stuck on this anymore."

I turned away before his lips could touch mine and stepped out of his arms.

"Sleep in the guest room tonight."

The color drained from his face.

He lowered his head and gave a bitter smile.

"It's okay. I'll prove it to you. Tomorrow, I'll have her get rid of the baby."

I watched him get up and head for the guest room.

That night, I didn't sleep.

When I woke again, it was five in the morning.

The husband who used to make me breakfast every day was standing in the kitchen with his back to me, speaking softly into his phone. "Don't worry, babe. I'll be there for your next appointment...

"I'm sorry about last night. You know how stubborn Avery is. If I hadn't done that, she really would've divorced me. Did you like the Versace bag I got you?

"...Okay, okay. I'll get something for our little one too."

I froze.

In that moment, my heart shattered for good.

I quietly returned to the bedroom and booked a ticket to Antarctica.

This time, I couldn't afford to give in.