What would you do if someone you trusted and built a life with betrayed you? Would you fight for them? Or would you walk away and never look back? I never thought I'd be asking myself these questions, but here I am. My name's Kate. I'm 32, a mom of two, and last weekend, my husband shattered everything I thought I knew about him.

It all started with an invite to an old college friend's wedding.

Emily wasn't a close friend anymore, but Max and I had known her for years. She was the kind of person you couldn't help but root for. She was kind, bubbly, and a little high-strung but always sweet.

When we got the invite, I was excited to go. But Max? Not so much.

"Look what came in the mail!" I called out excitedly, waving the elegant cream envelope. "Emily's finally getting married!"

"I'm not going to that wedding," he flatly said as we sat on the couch.

"What? Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, Kate," he snapped, rubbing his temples. "I have no interest in standing around making small talk with people I barely remember."

A few days passed, and I assumed he would change his mind. But Max remained stubborn.

"You've been acting strange since the invitation arrived," I said softly, moving closer to him. "What's really going on?"

He shifted away, anxiety visible in every line of his body. "Nothing's going on. I just don't want to waste a perfectly good Saturday with people from our past."

I raised an eyebrow. "Emily's not just some random person, Max. She's our —"

"She's your friend," he cut in. "Not mine."

"Since when?" I demanded, hurt creeping into my voice. "You used to love hanging out with her and her group. Remember all those game nights in college?"

His face darkened. "That was a lifetime ago, Kate. People change. Relationships change."

The tone was final. I didn't push it, though I couldn't help but feel hurt. Max wasn't usually like this. Sure, he could be stubborn, but this was a different level of dismissive.

"Fine," I said, forcing a smile. "You can stay home with the kids, then."

He readily agreed, and that was the plan.

On the day of the wedding, I woke up early and headed to the salon. Max was supposed to take the kids to the amusement park while I got ready.

"Daddy, aren't you going to the wedding?" Emma asked over breakfast, milk dribbling down her chin.

Max tensed, then forced a smile. "No, princess. Daddy's going to have a special day with you and Liam instead."

"But Mommy's going," Liam pouted. "Why can't we all go?"

"Sometimes grown-ups make complicated decisions," Max muttered, avoiding my eyes across the table.

"Don't worry, babe," he'd said that morning, squeezing my hand. "You go enjoy yourself. I've got the kids."

"You promise everything will be okay?" I whispered, searching his face for any sign of what was bothering him.

"Promise," he smiled, but something in his expression seemed off. "The kids and I will have a blast. Maybe we'll even build that pillow fort Emma's been begging for."

For a moment, I felt relieved. Maybe I'd overreacted. Maybe he wasn't being distant and tired. But I was WRONG.

I came home a few hours later, hair styled and makeup done, feeling excited for the evening ahead. But when I walked into the house, my heart SANK.

The living room was a mess and littered with abandoned toys, snack wrappers, and the remnants of what looked like a very rushed lunch. The kids were sad and alone. But that wasn't the only problem when I rushed out to check. The problem was that my car — our only car — was gone.

And so was Max.

"Emma?" I called, trying to stay calm.

My 7-year-old poked her head out from behind the couch. "Yeah?"

"Where's Dad?"

She climbed up onto the couch, looking entirely unbothered. "He left."

"Left? What do you mean 'he left'?"

"He got a call," she said, plopping down and grabbing the remote. "He said, 'I'm coming, don't worry... wedding,' and then he dropped us off and drove away."

"Sweetie," I knelt beside her, trying to keep my voice steady, "did he say anything else? Anything at all?"