Normally, Andrew would have noticed something was wrong from the sound of my voice or the way I looked at him. He might have seen my phone screen, too. This time, he didn’t notice anything. He only cared about leaving and sending his message on WhatsApp.
He explained again, trying to sound patient.
“I’ll be back soon. Don’t overthink it.”
His voice had a bit of stress in it.
“You’ve always been understanding. Please don’t make this harder.”
I sat there, feeling like a balloon with no air. I watched him rush out without saying goodbye.
Finally, I cried. The tears came quietly. In that moment, I understood that there really was no such thing as a man who wanted a side woman.
My best friend, Monica Green, called me to inform, “Northland Winery has a project that Andrew helped to start and got money for. Something feels wrong after we checked.”
Then, she sent me the details.
“Everyone at the Northland Winery says Andrew spent a lot of money to promote someone named Bianca Willis. No one even dares to joke about that girl.”
Her voice turned cold.
“I also heard there’s a party tonight at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel.”
“Did Andrew go somewhere?” she asked.
Just when I thought that I still had a little hope, it was gone now. I looked at the dinner Andrew had made, the shrimp scampi, risotto and roses on the side. Then, I remembered what he had said earlier.
“Honey! Did you forget? Today is our anniversary.”
Our anniversary.
Even on that day Andrew chose someone else. My husband left me alone even though I told him I didn’t want him to go. I told him I wanted to be with him. But he left anyway for someone he cared about more.
“I will go to the Waldorf Astoria,” I told my best friend.
“Even if our marriage ends, I want to see who I lost to.”
I had thought about it before. Perhaps I would lose to someone smart and classy, or someone young, bright and full of life. But I never expected to lose to someone like her.
When I saw the woman sitting next to Andrew, the one calling his name sweetly, I was shocked. Bianca turned out to be so average that I wouldn’t remember her if we passed on the street. Her clothes were simple. Her hair was in a loose bun. She wasn’t wearing makeup.
She held Andrew’s arm, laughed and said, “Andrew.”
“They want me to drink.”
She pointed at the older men at the table like a spoiled young lady.