Thirty minutes later, I knocked on their door and calmly handed him his laptop. Then hotel staff wheeled in a cart with champagne, flowers, and a fake “congratulatory” letter I’d written. “To the couple of the year,” I read aloud, “may your love be as enduring as your lies.” I walked out, holding the champagne and my dignity.
That night, I stayed in a suite offered by the receptionist, cried, and began a new chapter. In the months that followed, I filed for divorce, rediscovered my passions, and reclaimed my life. The betrayal hurt—but it also set me free.
