The night was supposed to be a joyous celebration of my sister Emma’s 40th birthday. The house was alive with laughter, the clinking of glasses, and the rich aroma of roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and warm, freshly baked bread. Emma had gone all out, as always. Her two kids, Ava and Ben, zipped around the house, giggling, sneaking bites of cake when they thought no one was looking.
The guests—our parents, Emma’s close friends, and a few neighbors—stood in clusters, chatting and enjoying the evening. Emma looked stunning in a deep blue dress that shimmered under the dining room lights. She had a glow about her, the kind that came from being surrounded by love and celebration.
But her husband, Graham, was different. He barely engaged. He sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone, barely nodding when someone spoke to him. When Emma placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, he didn’t even look up.
She leaned down and whispered something in his ear. He let out a sigh, gave a half-hearted smile, and muttered, “Yeah, yeah, in a minute.”
Emma straightened, her smile faltering just for a moment before she turned back to the guests. I noticed it. Something was wrong. But I pushed the thought away. Tonight was about Emma, not Graham’s sour mood.
Dinner passed, and soon, the table was cleared. Everyone chatted over thick slices of chocolate cake, the frosting rich and creamy. The moment felt perfect for a toast.
I glanced at Graham, who was still glued to his phone.
I smiled, raising my glass. “Graham, aren’t you going to give a toast to your wife?”
The room fell silent. All eyes turned to him.
Graham lifted his head slowly, his eyes locking onto mine with an unreadable expression. Then, before I could react, he grabbed his glass and flung the soda at my face.
Gasps filled the room. A fork clattered onto a plate. My breath caught as the cold liquid dripped down my face, soaking into my blouse.
“None of your business!” Graham snapped, his face red with rage. “You know why you’re still single? Because you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”
Silence gripped the room. No one moved.
Emma’s eyes widened. “Graham, what the—”
But he was already pushing his chair back, grabbing his jacket. “I don’t need this,” he muttered before storming out, slamming the door behind him.
A heavy stillness settled over the room. My father cleared his throat. My mother shook her head. A few guests awkwardly reached for their drinks, pretending they hadn’t just witnessed the spectacle.
Emma rushed to my side. “Come with me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She led me to the restroom, shutting the door behind us. She grabbed a towel and gently patted my face.
“I don’t know why he acted like that,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed hard, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She wasn’t just embarrassed. She was hurt.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to her. “Emma, I have to tell you something.”
Her brow furrowed. “What is it?”
I hesitated before pulling out my phone. “Three nights ago, I saw Graham at a restaurant.”
Emma frowned. “At your restaurant?”
I nodded. “He wasn’t alone.”
She swallowed but said nothing.
My hands trembled as I tapped my screen. The image popped up. Graham sat at a candlelit table, leaning in close to a woman in a red dress. They were laughing, their hands almost touching. And then the next photo… their lips pressed together in a kiss.
Emma stared at the screen, motionless.
“That night, I called you,” I whispered. “Remember? I asked where Graham was.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Yeah… I said he had a business meeting.”
I hesitated. “I already knew he was lying. I just—I guess I wanted to hear what you’d say.”
Emma didn’t look at me. Her gaze stayed locked on the photo.
“I felt it,” she finally whispered. “For a long time. He stopped looking at me the way he used to. Stopped touching me. And the late nights? The excuses?” She let out a humorless laugh. “God, I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” I said firmly. “He’s just a liar.”
Her hands curled into fists. “He won’t get away with this.”
I hesitated. “There’s more.”
She looked up. “What do you mean?”
“I confronted him the next day.”
Her eyes widened. “You what?!”
“I called him. Told him I knew what he did. That either he tells you the truth, or I will.”
Emma’s lips parted in shock. “What did he say?”
I clenched my fists, remembering his cruel laugh. “He said I was crazy. That I must’ve mistaken him for someone else. Then he hung up on me.”
Emma’s jaw tightened. “That’s why he exploded tonight.”
“Exactly,” I said. “The toast was just the last straw.”
She took a deep breath, then looked at me with steely determination. “I need more proof.”
I blinked. “Emma… are you sure you want to do this tonight?”
She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t think I can sleep until I do.”
I nodded. “Then let’s find out the truth.”
We slipped past the murmuring guests and headed upstairs. Emma grabbed her laptop, logged into their joint bank account, and froze.
“What is it?” I asked.
She turned the screen toward me. A series of withdrawals—large ones. Then, a week ago… a $3,000 charge at a jewelry store.
“Did he buy you any jewelry recently?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
Her lips pressed together. “No.”
My stomach twisted. “Then who did he buy it for?”
Emma inhaled sharply. “I think we already know.”
At midnight, Graham walked in, tossing his keys on the counter like nothing had happened. Emma and I were waiting in the living room.
I picked up the remote. “Graham, we have a special presentation for you.”
The TV lit up. His bank statements. The jewelry store receipt. And finally, the photo of him kissing the woman in red.
His face drained of color. “Are you crazy?!”
Emma crossed her arms. “No, but I think you are. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?”
He turned to me, rage flickering in his eyes. “You little—”
I held up my phone. “Careful. We already sent everything to your family.”
His phone rang. Emma smirked. “That’ll be your mother.”
Graham clenched his fists. “This isn’t over.”
Emma tilted her head. “Oh, I think it is.”
As he stormed out, Emma exhaled, a weight lifting off her shoulders.
She turned to me, eyes shining with strength. “You didn’t ruin my birthday. You gave me a gift—freedom.”
