Working remotely means I miss out on the wild office Christmas parties where people, fueled by a bit too much alcohol, finally spill their secrets and grievances. My husband, Travis, wasn’t as lucky to miss out, so I sent him off to his party with a little joke—something to remind him I was still watching out for him.
Now, don’t get me wrong—Travis is a lightweight when it comes to drinking, and after five years of marriage, I trust him completely. But as he was getting dressed for the party, I grabbed a marker and, with a grin, scribbled a playful warning on his chest: “This is my husband—touch him, and you’ll pay—M.”
“Micaela,” he laughed, rolling his eyes, “I’m just going out for a few drinks. I’ll be back early, I promise.”
While he was out, I busied myself putting up the Christmas tree and decorating the living room, creating the perfect festive atmosphere. Hours later, Travis stumbled back home, clearly more than a little tipsy. I helped him to bed, chuckling as I saw that someone had added a reply to my note.
“Keep the change,” it read, scrawled across his chest.
I laughed it off at first, thinking it was just a harmless joke. But as I stayed up watching Christmas movies, the words kept playing over and over in my mind, gnawing at me.
The next morning, I casually asked Travis about the party. He said they’d started with drinks at the office, moved to a bar for some rowdy karaoke, and ended up at a club. When I mentioned the note, he just looked confused.
“Probably one of the guys,” he said with a shrug. “There was a lot of drinking, and you know how the guys get when they’re drunk.”
But something still didn’t sit right with me. The unease gnawed at me all day, so I decided to talk to my mom about it. She suggested something that surprised me—planting a GPS tracker in Travis’s car. I didn’t like the idea of spying on him, but my doubts were getting too loud to ignore.
For the next week, I tracked his movements from my laptop. Everything seemed normal until one evening when he called to say he’d be working late. I believed him at first, but when I checked the tracker, I saw his car heading in the opposite direction of home.
My heart raced as I followed him, driving through the streets until I saw his car parked in the driveway of a beautiful, unfamiliar house. I watched from my car, barely able to breathe, as he stepped out of the house with a woman. They hugged, and then… they kissed.
The shock hit me like a punch to the gut. My world was crumbling, and I could hardly believe what I was seeing. But I needed proof, so I snapped some photos of them together.
I was numb as I got out of my car and walked towards them. Travis’s eyes widened in shock when he saw me, and the woman looked at me with a mix of surprise and pity.
“So, you’re the woman who left a message on my husband?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Instead of being embarrassed or scared, she looked me straight in the eye and said, “You deserve better. Husbands like this deserve to be treated like spare change.”
Travis’s face turned red with anger and shame. “How dare you?” he shouted at her, but she just turned away and shut the door in his face.
I didn’t even look back at him. I walked straight to my car, my heart shattered into a million pieces. As I sat in the driver’s seat, trying to hold back the tears, I saw a text from my mom. It was the number of a divorce lawyer.
That was the painful Christmas gift I ended up giving myself—a harsh, bitter dose of reality instead of the joyful holiday celebration I had hoped for. Now, as I face a new year, I realize that life is unpredictable, even after five years of marriage. It’s a time for rebuilding, for finding my own happiness, and for letting go of the things that were never really mine.
What would you have done?
