I was in another state, burying my mother, when my phone buzzed. The message came from my neighbor. We had barely shared more than polite hellos. A photo was attached. **MY HUSBAND AND MY BEST FRIEND** were stepping out of an elevator together. His shirt hung open halfway. Lipstick smeared across his mouth and down his neck. My best friend was pressed against him, laughing. Under the photo, just one line: “Something seems wrong here. I don’t want to ruin your life, but I wish someone had warned me when my ex cheated. I think you deserve to know.” I stared at the screen until my hands went numb. Two days earlier, I had begged my husband to come with me to the funeral. He refused. Said cemeteries made him “TOO UNCOMFORTABLE.” Said grief overwhelmed him. Promised he would be there for me when I got back. Instead, while I stood over my mother’s grave, he was cheating on me with my best friend. That betrayal cut deeper than anything I had ever felt. And the irony made it worse.
Because at the same time, my best friend was texting me things like, “Dear, I’m so sorry. My deepest condolences.” When I returned home, my husband played his part perfectly. Soft voice. Long hugs. I felt physically sick listening to him lie so easily. But I didn’t confront him. I smiled. I nodded. I bided my time.
That evening, I told him I just wanted something simple. Quiet. Just us. I cooked lasagna. Lit candles. Put on the show we always watched together. He relaxed. He assumed he had successfully fooled me.
Then the doorbell rang. I knew exactly who it was. That was THE PLAN. I looked at him and smiled sweetly. “Can you get it?”
He opened the door. And a man’s voice said, cold and calm, “You have FIVE MINUTES to pack your things and come with me. If you don’t… YOU’LL REGRET IT.” My husband turned to look at me. His face had gone completely white. You see, the man at the door wasn’t just any man… it was my father, and he’s a **HITMAN** who owed my mother a favor and she wanted it used on my cheating husband and his mistress!
