A minute later, another car arrived.
His mother climbed out.
Then, a third vehicle pulled in.
His ex-wife stepped out.
The three of them greeted each other like people who had done this many times before.
I waited until they disappeared inside before walking toward the restaurant.
The hostess smiled.
“Table for one?”
“I… actually think my family is already here.”
She nodded toward the dining room.
I spotted them in a corner booth.
Hidden behind a decorative divider, I could hear every word.
Michael leaned forward.
“I’ve already talked to an agent.”
His mother smiled.
“Good. The sooner the house sells, the sooner you two can finally move on.”
His ex-wife reached across the table and squeezed his hand.
“I still can’t believe we’re finally doing this.”
My stomach dropped.
Michael smiled back at her.
“I should have never let you go.”
Every last bit of hope disappeared.
His mother laughed softly.
“Jill still thinks everything is wonderful.”
“She won’t for much longer,” Michael replied. “I’ve already asked my attorney to prepare the divorce papers.”
My chest tightened.
“I’ve been moving money little by little,” he continued. “By the time she realizes what’s happening, everything important will already be protected.”
His ex-wife nodded approvingly.
“And she’ll never know we’ve been seeing each other again.”
I could not listen anymore.
I walked out before any of them noticed me.
Somehow, I made it back to my car.
Only then did I finally let myself cry.
It was not only because I still wanted Michael.
It was because I finally understood that every instinct I had tried to ignore had been right.
The next morning, I sat across from Denise again.
This time, I had documents.
I had bank statements, photos, and notes from everything I had overheard.
She studied them carefully.
“They’ve made one very serious mistake,” she said.
“What?”
“They’ve been moving marital funds.”
“Is that illegal?”
“Let’s just say judges don’t appreciate spouses trying to hide assets before filing for divorce.”
For the first time in over a week, I smiled genuinely.
Over the next month, everything happened exactly as Michael had planned.
At least, he thought it did.
He became increasingly distant.
He spent more evenings away from home.
His mother suddenly stopped calling.
Then, one Friday evening, Michael came home carrying a folder.
“We need to talk.”
I looked up from the book in my lap.
“Okay.”
He sat across from me.
“I haven’t been happy for a long time.”
“I know.”
He blinked.
“I’ve decided to file for divorce.”
“I know that, too.”
His confident expression faltered.
“What?”
I stood and walked to the dining room table.
Waiting there was a folder of my own.
I placed it in front of him.
Inside were copies of the bank withdrawals, restaurant photos, phone records, and a timeline.
His face turned pale.
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