The cost of the trip? $7,983. Just about the exact amount I had given him to “pay off his boss.”
Still clinging to hope that it was all some misunderstanding, I called his boss. That call changed everything. There was no accident. No debt. No borrowed car. Just lies.
That night, I said nothing. I smiled through dinner as Mike told me about an upcoming “business trip to D.C.” Then I invited Sarah and her husband over for dinner the next evening.
Halfway through the meal, I casually mentioned Mike’s trip. Sarah’s husband laughed and said, “What a coincidence! She’s going to Miami that same week!”
Silence.
The truth landed harder than any plate on the table. I quietly stood up, wiped my hands on a dish towel, and walked out. No screaming. No scene. Just clarity.
While Mike sipped cocktails in Miami, I filed for divorce. He lost his job shortly after. Word got around. Shame followed.
As for me? I moved into a small, sunny apartment. I picked up my camera again. I started baking bread. I began running. I invested what little I had left into rebuilding me.
Because sometimes, the best revenge isn’t anger—it’s becoming everything they never thought you could be.