The Concert Kiss Camera Caught My Husband Flirting with My Sister

“You disgust me!” I snarled, voice trembling with all the fury I had buried for years.

The cold water dripped from her perfectly curled hair and designer blouse, soaking her in the truth I had refused to say out loud for so long.

Paula screamed like I stabbed her, not just splashed her. She staggered back, hands flailing, dramatic as ever. “Roger!” she cried, her voice breaking into practiced sobs. “Help! Help!”

Footsteps came pounding toward us. Roger appeared in the doorway, eyes darting from Paula—drenched and crying—to me, clutching the pitcher with a tight fist.

“What the hell happened?!” he demanded.

“I don’t know!” Paula wailed, tears and water streaming down her face. “I was just singing a song from the band and she just—she just threw water at me! Maybe… maybe she’s mad because of the concert video? You know… the kiss cam? It went viral, right?”

Roger’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “You’re upset about that?”

I said nothing. I was still too stunned that they had the audacity to turn it into a joke.

“Oh, come on, Isa,” Roger said with a scoff. “It was just a stupid kiss cam. Everyone plays along. You’re seriously mad about that?”

“Should I not be mad?” I asked through clenched teeth. “You were wrapped around her like she was your wife.”

Paula snapped. “It wasn’t like that! The camera just caught us. We were just enjoying the show. Stop being so dramatic! You know that I would never do that to you!”

Roger nodded in agreement. “We didn’t even kiss! We pulled away!”

“Yes, you pulled away because you got caught. If not, you still have your arms around her. In front of thousands. And don’t tell me it was nothing when my entire marriage has been filled with ‘nothings’ that I wasn’t allowed to question.”

“You’re overthinking things again,” Roger said, brushing it off with a wave. “You always do this. That’s why no one tells you anything. You twist it all in your head.”

“I’m twisting it?” I whispered.

Just then, Mateo entered the room, his tablet in hand. “What’s going on?”

Paula turned to him quickly and said sweetly, “Your mom’s just mad about the concert.”

Mateo glanced at me with a smirk. “Seriously, Mom? Jealous because you weren’t invited? We went there because the deal was a success, why would you be invited when you weren’t part of the hard work?" Then he scoffed and threw a pile of his laundry into my arms. “Enough with the nonsense. It was just a concert you don’t belong to anyway. Wash that, and don’t miss another event of Tina or you’re staying out of the house.”

Tina, who had followed behind him, looked up at me with a pout. “I don’t want her. It’s Aunt Paula I want.”

She ran to Paula, wrapping her tiny arms around her legs.

“Oh sweetie,” Paula said in a sickeningly sweet tone, patting her head. “Don’t be like that. She’s your grandma.”

“But she hurt you!” Tina argued, her eyes narrowing at me. “She threw water at your face! That’s bad!”

I just stood there, numb.

This was it. This was the final proof I had been replaced. In my own home. In my own family. Erased from their lives without a second thought.

And they weren’t even hiding it anymore.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t shout or cry. I just turned, slowly, and walked away.

I went into my bedroom and shut the door behind me. Locked it. My chest was heaving. My hands trembling.

I grabbed my suitcase.

There was nothing left to fight for.

One by one, I took the photos off the shelves. Folded the clothes I once bought to look good for Roger. The sketches I once did in secret, trying to revive a dream he killed.

All of it. Gone.

Into the suitcase. Into the trash. Into the past.

I opened a drawer and saw the anniversary gift I had once planned to give him—still wrapped in gold paper, untouched. I took it, smiled bitterly, and dropped it into the bin.

As I zipped the suitcase shut, my phone buzzed. I reached for it, assuming it was the lawyer again.

But the name that flashed on the screen made my heart jolt.

Treston Marquez.

Roger’s old business rival. The man I hadn’t spoken to in years.

I hesitated… then answered.

“Isabel Smith,” came his smooth voice, laced with amusement. “I heard your husband went viral. Or should I say, your ex-husband?”

“What do you want?”

He chuckled and even if I couldn’t see it, I knew he was smirking when he said, “I’ve been waiting for this day, so what do you say about marrying me?”