Dumping My Ex Husband

On our engagement day, I discovered countless erotic photos of my fiance with another woman on his laptop. Eight years with him, and this was my reward. Betrayal, raw and unforgiving, clawed at me.

Immediately, I booked a flight to Fiassi, a flight scheduled to depart on our wedding day. This had to end. I called my boss. “Mr. Rowland, I’ve decided. I’ll take the Fiassi job.”

His surprise was palpable. “Fantastic. I’ll get the team on it. But your wedding…”

“No problem,” I managed, my voice trembling.

Tears streaming down my face, unseen by him, as I ended the call. It was the first time I’d ever touched Antonio Kaufman’s computer. We’d started at the same company after graduation, different departments, separate lives.

Tonight, he was at a bachelor party, his phone off. His boss, desperate for a proposal, contacted me. That was when I saw those photos. Eight years of memories flooded back.

No snapshots of us, not a single trace on his phone. My pleas for shared photos were always dismissed:

“We see each other every day. No need for pictures.”

But it wasn’t about the need; he simply wasn’t invested in me. Then, his friend’s words from our engagement party resurfaced.