On our anniversary night, I stood in my best dress, waiting for my husband. Then a  cake arrived with golden lettering: “It’s time to get divorced!” An hour later, I was on a flight to uncover the truth.

Marriage suited me. It wasn’t always perfect, but I felt loved and secure with Thomas. Our first year as husband and wife had been filled with warmth, late-night conversations, and laughter over burnt pancakes on Sunday mornings. That’s why I spent two weeks preparing for our first wedding anniversary. Two weeks. Can you imagine? Every detail had to be perfect. I spent hours searching endlessly for the ultimate duck à l’orange recipe, even practicing it twice to ensure it turned out right. And, of course, the gift.

I still remembered how he’d paused by the store window a few months ago, staring at that designer tie. It was one of those quick, fleeting moments men had when they saw something they liked but decided they didn’t need. But I noticed. And I remembered. Finally, the table was set, the candles flickered, and I stood in my best dress, feeling completely happy. Suddenly, my phone rang.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Thomas’s voice sounded… casual. “I’m already halfway to the airport.” I frowned. “What airport?” “There’s an emergency meeting. Clients, you know how it is…” I closed my eyes. Breathed in. Breathed out. “Thomas, today is our anniversary.” “And I haven’t forgotten! I’ll make it up to you, I promise, as soon as I’m back.” That phrase stuck in my mind. Make it up… I looked at the beautifully set table. I pictured myself sitting there, eating alone, wearing that dress I chose just for him.