I thought my life with Mark was perfect. Everything felt smooth—until I found a hotel reservation for two. In that moment, everything I had built with him shattered. And that’s when I met Daniel.
It started out so normal. I was sitting on the couch, flipping through wedding magazines, trying to figure out venues and honeymoon spots with Mark. Just a week ago, everything seemed right. Everything was supposed to be perfect, but it wasn’t anymore.
“Spain again?” I asked Mark one evening when he casually mentioned his trip. “Didn’t you just come back?”
He shrugged, not looking at me. “Work, babe. You know how it is.”
I wasn’t convinced, but I didn’t press the issue. That night, he left for his “business trip,” and I was stuck at home, pacing around the house. My mind raced—what if I was overthinking everything?
Before, when he traveled, we’d talk on the phone five or six times a day, laughing, chatting about silly things. But lately, the calls had become sparse, and when he did call, they were short.
I just stared at my phone that night, willing it to ring.
Then, I got an email. It was a hotel reservation for two in Spain. The email looked like it was meant for Mark and me—until I noticed the details. Champagne and strawberries. Wait. Strawberries? I’m allergic to them.
I sat there, frozen. My heart dropped to my stomach. No. He wasn’t alone in Spain. He was with someone else.
“Is this real?” I whispered to myself, my pulse racing. I grabbed my phone and dialed Claire, my best friend.
“Breathe, Rebecca,” Claire said, trying to calm me down, but her voice was tense too.
“I have to go to Spain. I need to see for myself,” I said, shaking as I spoke.
“You hate flying,” she reminded me.
“Watching my life fall apart from here is worse,” I answered, already pulling up flights.
The flight was a nightmare from the start. My seat was cramped, the air felt stuffy, and my mind wouldn’t stop spinning. Every possible worst-case scenario played in my head. What if Mark really was sorry and would beg for my forgiveness? What if he didn’t care at all?
I tried to distract myself by staring out the window, but then—splash. A cold liquid hit my lap. I looked down. Tomato juice soaked my jeans. Perfect. Could anything else go wrong today?
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” The man beside me, wide-eyed and mortified, scrambled for napkins. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just… I’m just really clumsy.”
“It’s fine,” I muttered, dabbing at the stain. Of course, things like this happen when everything else was already falling apart.
“Let me make it up to you. How about I buy us a drink? I mean, unless you want to sit here in awkward silence with juice all over your lap,” he suggested, offering a nervous smile.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure. Why not? A drink might just save this disaster of a day.”
“I’m Daniel,” he said, extending his hand with a grin. “And I promise, I’m usually better with tomato juice.”
“Rebecca,” I replied, shaking his hand. “And trust me, this isn’t even the worst thing that’s happened today.”
“Now I’m really curious,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
I sighed, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m on my way to Spain to confront my fiancé. He’s… probably cheating on me.”
“Yikes. That’s rough,” Daniel said, his face sympathetic.
“I found a hotel reservation for two. Champagne, strawberries… the works,” I explained, feeling the weight of it all in my chest.
“Ugh. Ouch. That’s… brutal,” he winced. “And here I thought spilling juice on you was bad.”
I chuckled. “Honestly, it kind of fits the day I’ve been having.”
Daniel leaned back in his seat, swirling his drink. “Well, here’s a twist. I’m flying to Spain too. To see my wife. Who, surprise, might also be cheating on me.”
I blinked, stunned for a moment before I burst into laughter. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. But no, I’m not. It’s like some messed-up cosmic joke, isn’t it? Two betrayed souls stuck on the same flight.”
“What are the odds we’d be sitting next to each other?” I asked, still laughing.
“Pretty slim, I’d say,” Daniel replied, lifting his drink. “To bad luck and strange coincidences?”
I clinked my glass against his. “And to being covered in tomato juice.”
By the time we landed in Spain, the tomato juice disaster felt like a distant memory. We had bigger things on our minds. We grabbed our bags, and as we headed for the exit, Daniel turned to me.
“So… where are you staying?” he asked.
I opened my GPS. “It’s here.”
“No way. Me too.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course you are. What’s next? Same room?”
As it turned out, we did get assigned the same room. The hotel had overbooked, and the desk clerk, looking frazzled, apologized profusely before offering us a shared room.
I was too tired to argue, and honestly, I was too curious to see where this weird situation would go. We stood there in stunned silence for a moment.
“Well, I guess this is just another chapter in this crazy story,” Daniel said with a smirk.
“Yeah, seems like fate’s pushing us together,” I agreed.
We shrugged and decided to share the room. What else could we do? Two strangers, both betrayed, stuck together in a foreign country. It was absurd—but so was everything else today.
We settled into the room, both keeping a distance. After a while, we decided to have lunch on the balcony. I was picking at my salad when something caught my eye. I froze, fork suspended mid-air. There, lounging by the pool, was Mark. But he wasn’t alone. He was with a woman. And they looked… too comfortable. Too close.
Panic gripped me, and I ducked behind the balcony railing. “That’s him,” I whispered, pointing. “That’s Mark… with her.”
I turned to Daniel, expecting sympathy. But he was stiff, his gaze fixed on the pair below. Without saying a word, he dropped to his knees beside me, peering through the slats of the railing.
“That’s my wife,” Daniel said quietly. “Brenda.”
I stared at him, wide-eyed, then back at the couple. Mark and Brenda. Together. My fiancé, his wife.
I turned to Daniel, my voice barely a whisper. “They’re cheating on us… with each other.”
“This is like a bad sitcom,” Daniel muttered under his breath.
I raised my hand, shushing him. We leaned closer, straining to hear their conversation. Brenda’s voice floated up, calm and casual. She was telling Mark how she planned to divorce Daniel and live off the money she’d get from him. And Mark? He was encouraging her.
I let out a bitter laugh. “Are you… rich?”
“Not rich enough for her,” Daniel replied, his voice tight with bitterness.
We both sat in stunned silence for a moment, the situation too absurd to fully grasp. Then Daniel’s face lit up with an idea.
“Why don’t we give them a taste of their own medicine?” he said, eyes gleaming.
“What do you mean?” I asked, confusion flooding my voice.
His grin was mischievous. “Let’s pretend we’re madly in love. Make a scene. We know where they’ll be having dinner tonight. Let’s give them something to talk about.”
I blinked, my brain struggling to keep up with this ridiculous plan. “That’s… ridiculous.”
“Exactly,” Daniel replied, his grin widening. “It’s perfect.”
I laughed, even though everything inside me was telling me it was a bad idea. But in that moment, I didn’t care. I needed to feel something. Anything.
For the next few hours, we planned. And to my surprise, Daniel had a sharp sense of style. At one point, he glanced at my outfit and groaned.
“You dress like a grandma at 40,” he teased.
“Excuse me?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I thought you liked the ‘sophisticated’ look,” he said with a smirk, pulling something out of his suitcase.
It was a stunning red dress. “I bought this for Brenda,” he said, holding it up. “But I think it’ll look way better on you.”
I stared at it. And then I burst out laughing. This was about to get very interesting.
That evening, I stepped out of the taxi with a new sense of power. Daniel, in a sharp suit, looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. And me? I didn’t recognize the woman in the red dress that stared back at me from the mirror.
“You ready?” Daniel asked, offering me his arm.
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied, slipping my arm through his.
We walked into the restaurant like we owned the place. The moment we passed Mark and Brenda’s table, I could feel their eyes on us. Mark’s jaw nearly hit the floor. Brenda froze, fork suspended mid-air.
I squeezed Daniel’s arm, fighting back laughter. It was perfect.
We stopped at their table. Daniel leaned in, his voice loud enough for them to hear. “Should we invite them to join us for dinner? After all, it’s such a small world.”
Mark and Brenda exchanged awkward glances, and then waved us over.
The dinner that followed was one of the most satisfying, bizarre, and strange experiences of my life. Brenda barely spoke. Mark looked like he was trying to hide under the table.
Daniel kept the conversation going, smiling at Mark. “So, Mark, Brenda… how long have you two been enjoying Spain?”
“Uh, a few days,” Mark muttered. “Just a… spontaneous trip.”
“Spontaneous! I love that,” Daniel said with a grin. “We should try that sometime, right, darling?”
“Absolutely. Spontaneity is everything,” I said, catching Mark’s bewildered expression.
Brenda was growing impatient. “We were actually about to leave,” she said, fidgeting in her seat.
Then Daniel pulled out a small velvet box from his pocket, opening it slowly to reveal a stunning pair of diamond earrings.
“Brenda,” he said, his voice serious, “I was planning to give you these. But I think they’ll suit my dear friend here much better.”
Brenda’s face went pale, her eyes wide with horror.
“You’ll never see a dime of my money,” Daniel added, his tone sharp. “And as for the rest… well, I think we both know where we stand.”
Daniel looked at me and winked. “Shall we, darling? We have a reservation at a much better place.”
We stood up, heads high, arm in arm, walking out of the restaurant like nothing could touch us.
That night, I didn’t get the apology I was expecting. Instead, I got something better: I got my freedom.
