So, my husband, Mark, has this female coworker, Sarah, he’s super close with—basically his assistant, but also his confidante. They grab lunch together, they work late together, and honestly, sometimes it feels like he spends more time with her than with me. And here’s the kicker: they’re both vying for the same promotion at work. I’m not going to lie, there was definitely a green monster rearing its ugly head inside of me. I tried to suppress it, tried to be supportive, but the thought of them together, constantly collaborating, was driving me crazy. Then came the news that sent me spiraling: Mark informed me he had a week-long business trip coming up. A week! Okay, manageable, I thought. Business trips happen. But then he casually dropped the bomb that Sarah would be accompanying him. My blood ran cold. I forced a smile, asked probing questions, trying to gauge the situation without giving away my internal turmoil. Was this just a business trip, or was there something more brewing? The jealousy was almost unbearable.
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What he conveniently failed to mention, however, was that they would be sharing a hotel room. I found this out through a mutual colleague at a company party, a fact casually dropped into conversation like it was nothing. I nearly choked on my wine. Sharing a hotel room? Unacceptable. Completely and utterly unacceptable. The rage bubbled up inside me, threatening to explode, but I managed to keep my composure. I knew I couldn’t confront him directly; I needed a plan. A devious, well-calculated plan.
I spent the next few days plotting my revenge, fantasizing about all the ways I could make him regret his actions. Should I flirt with his best friend? Should I “accidentally” reveal his deepest, darkest secret to his boss? The possibilities were endless, each more satisfying than the last. But I knew I needed to be patient, to wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. I started gathering evidence, screenshots of their late-night email exchanges, notes from his desk where he had doodled her name. I was becoming a woman obsessed.
But then, just a few hours after they left for the airport, my phone rang. It was Mark. But it wasn’t the usual, cheerful Mark I knew and loved. This Mark was sobbing uncontrollably. I could barely make out what he was saying through the tears. My heart pounded in my chest. What had happened? Had something terrible happened on the flight? Was Sarah okay? “Baby,” he finally managed to choke out, “I just wanted to say goodbye because…”
He continued, between sobs, telling me he was planning on leaving Sarah in the hotel room and flying straight back home. The reason? He said that he felt extreme guilt over how close he was to Sarah and realized that he had been prioritizing their working relationship over our marriage. He confessed that he was falling for her, or maybe already had, but that the thought of losing me was unbearable.
I was stunned. My carefully constructed plan of revenge dissolved into a puddle of relief and… something else. Something akin to pity, maybe? Or perhaps a renewed sense of love for the man who, despite his near transgression, had chosen me. I told him to come home, and that we would work on our marriage, one step at a time. Sarah was eventually transfered to another branch. Things aren’t perfect, but we’re trying. And that’s all that matters.
