You never thought the sound of laughter could break you. But tonight, it does.

The restaurant smells of warm bread and wine, the kind of place you both used to dream about when money was tight. You’d even dressed up, rehearsing in your head how you’d surprise him after his “late meeting.”

But then you see him. Your husband. And her.

She leans in, brushing his hand like she’s done it a hundred times before. He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he smiles — that smile, the one that once belonged to you. His eyes are lit in a way they haven’t been in months.

You stand in the shadow of the hallway, gripping your phone so hard your knuckles whiten. The ring on your finger feels heavier than it ever has. You remember the vows, the nights spent planning a life, the quiet mornings where love felt simple. And now, here he is, making memories with someone else.

You want to burst in, to demand answers, but the words die before they reach your lips. Because you realize it’s not just betrayal — it’s replacement.

When you leave, the rain outside clings to you like grief. You don’t cry until you’re home, staring at the dinner you made for two, now growing cold on the table.