My husband, Eric, told me he was leaving for a "last-minute work trip" to Miami. My stomach immediately twisted.

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 My husband, Eric, told me he was leaving for a "last-minute work trip" to Miami. My stomach immediately twisted. 


He's a project manager at an architectural firm. Miami wasn't even one of their offices.


Still, he gave me the whole performance: sighing about "deadlines," acting stressed.


My gut feeling told me he was hiding something.


So, he left Thursday morning in a crisp new polo and his best cologne.


"Don't wait up for calls," he said. "It's going to be nonstop meetings."


That night, while putting our daughter to bed, I opened Instagram — there it was.


A woman I'd never met tagged in a hotel story: two wine glasses and a man's hand on her leg.


The BRACELET looked awfully familiar.


Eric's birthday gift from ME.


It didn’t take long to connect the dots — she worked at Eric's firm. Clara. 


Her feed was like a romantic commercial for my own humiliation: Dinner by the water. Jet skis. Hotel robes with E&C written in the caption.


I took screenshots of everything. 


I was determined to teach Eric a lesson once and for all. 


I didn't call. Didn't text. Didn't cry.


I pretended that I was a fool as Eric thought of me. 


When he came home Sunday night, sunburned, he said tiredly, "Rough meetings."


I kissed him. "Oh dear, you're so hardworking. You should be more gentle to yourself."


And HE BOUGHT IT.


He was unaware that a "SURPRISE" from me was already waiting for him at his office the next day. 


After Eric came to the office on Monday, my phone started exploding with calls.


Eric called me, crying, "ARE YOU INSANE?!" ⬇️

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