I know it sounds cliché, but I believed that my wife Joan and I had the perfect marriage. We'd been married for twenty years. We were every bit as in love as when we first met. We heard stories about couples with problems ending in divorce, but neither of us could imagine that happening to us.
From the beginning, we had a great relationship based on respect and the ability to communicate about anything. We kept no secrets and talked about everything together. We were best friends and lovers. We valued spending time together and being a couple, not two solo partners.
If something bothered either one of us, we could tell the other and get support. We didn't keep feelings buried. If I did something that bothered her, she told me, and vice versa. We were quick to compliment each other, and if we wanted something, we said what it was. No games.
We were that way about intimacy, too. We did everything together. We had a fantastic love life. As far as finances go, we both work and get paid well. Our combined household income is over a quarter of a million a year. We each put three-quarters of our paychecks into our joint bank account. The other quarter goes into our own private accounts. We're free to use our personal money however we want without justification. We mutually discuss any major expenses from our joint funds.
We both get five weeks of paid time off each year. We usually spend two weeks of vacation together in the summer, a week in winter for a ski trip, and a week in autumn. That leaves us each one week, which we take separately, but simultaneously during spring. We jokingly call this week our sabbatical. Joan usually visits her family or travels with girlfriends. I usually go on outdoor adventures with male friends.
Even during that week apart, we touch base daily and keep no secrets. The time apart always ends with several days making up for lost time in bed. Neither of us takes our jobs too seriously. They're just jobs, not our lives. We don't work much overtime and have strict rules about not bringing work home. Work stops at five daily, and by six, we're both home looking forward to an evening together.
We prefer spending time together rather than going out with friends or doing things separately. When our kids were younger, they took up much of our time, but as they're practically grown, we still enjoy each other's company more than anything.
Speaking of kids, Adam is nineteen and finishing his second year at the University of Texas. Ebie is seventeen and a senior in high school with a full ride to UC San Diego. We'll miss our kids once Ebie leaves, but we're looking forward to resuming life as a couple. We've joked about becoming nudists at home and enjoying each other's company in every room to celebrate our regained freedom.
I enjoy golfing. Joan prefers tennis. Our income has afforded us memberships at the best country clubs. The funny thing is that we enjoy each other's company so much that I'm her tennis partner and she's mine for golf. Not because we're possessive, but because we're each other's best friends.
We go to movies once a week, alternating who picks. We have date night every Friday or Saturday. As foodies, we pick new or highly rated restaurants. I'm into craft brews and cocktails, so we follow dinner with a trip to a great bar. We end date night with dancing at a nearby nightclub.
I used to be terrible at dancing. Joan was great about it. She only wanted to dance with me, even though I wasn't up to her skill level. Many men would ask her to dance, but she always turned them down. I didn't come here to dance, she told me once. I came here to dance with you.
So, I took lessons. We went together and enjoyed it so much we kept going. We're now proficient in several styles from ballroom to salsa and Texas two-step. When we have a date night, I'm proud to spend the night dancing with my beautiful bride.
Whenever Joan wants to try a new hobby, like crocheting or painting, guess who she drags with her to class? Me. The irony is that I have as much fun as she does. She's better at crocheting while I excel at pottery and painting.
We walk the dog together. We grocery shop together. We do yard work together. We even get mani-pedis together. We do everything together. Well, almost everything. The only thing we don't do together is get our hair done. I get my hair cut at Floyd's Barber Shop near my office during lunch once a month.
For as long as I can remember, Joan has had every other Wednesday off for a spa day to be pampered, massaged, and get her hair done. We have a big house on a lake with a pool, a boat, and an RV for luxury camping. We travel frequently. Things literally couldn't be better.
One day, I was feeling under the weather and came home from work in the middle of the afternoon. I didn't find Joan in bed with someone. I found something else that didn't set off alarm bells at first. It just seemed odd.
Among the mail was one of those advertising inserts that get stuffed in your box. Usually, I ignore them, but this one caught my eye. It said in big bold letters, We miss you. Looking closer, I noticed it was from Golden Sun Spa, the same spa Joan has been a member of for years, the one she goes to every other Wednesday.
According to the flyer, she was a former client and they were offering a steep discount to come back. Included was an account number and telephone number for a sales agent. Thinking there must be a mix-up and knowing tomorrow was her Wednesday off, I decided to resolve the problem for her.
I called the number and spoke to a polite salesperson named Gwen, who informed me that the account was one of their older inactive accounts. When I asked what that meant, she said Joan had canceled the membership over five years ago. She kindly offered to reactivate it at no charge with twenty-five percent off for six months if I signed a two-year contract.
I was confused. Joan went to the spa every other Wednesday. Why would she cancel her membership?
I'm sorry, Gwen, I said, trying not to sound condescending. But there must be a recordkeeping error. My wife has been going to your spa religiously every other Wednesday for over ten years.
I heard Gwen tapping on her keyboard.
That's very unlikely. We have a sophisticated membership system. According to our records, your wife joined in 2008. Does that sound right?
Yeah, that sounds right. We had just moved to Frisco.
So, doesn't it show her attendance every other Wednesday?
Let me see, Gwen replied, tapping more keys. Sir, are you sure she's been going to this spa? Our records show she came here about twenty times, most often with a guest, sporadically over three years, and hasn't returned since 2010. She canceled her membership after not visiting for almost two years.
That made no sense. I sat there thinking of all possible explanations. Maybe Joan switched spas and never thought it important enough to tell me.
Sir, asked Gwen. Is there anything else I can help you with?
Yeah, I said as something she mentioned sparked a thought. You said she usually came with a guest. Would you happen to have a record of who that was?
We should, Gwen explained. Guests must show ID and register for safety reasons. Let me see.
A few more clicks and then, Oh, wow.
What did you find? I asked.
Sir, I probably shouldn't say anything, Gwen replied, hesitating. I don't want to get in trouble.
It's fine, Gwen, I reassured her. What did you find?
Well, she hesitated. She came by herself the first two times. After that, she had the same male guest every visit.
The hairs on my neck stood up.
Will you give me his name?
Sir, I think that's for your wife to tell you, Gwen said, sounding distraught.
Gwen, please. I swear nobody will know where I got the information, I pleaded. I need to know.
Gwen sighed, then said, His name is Connor Wilkins.
Thank you, Gwen.
Connor Wilkins was the owner of Joan's firm and her immediate boss.
Is there anything else I can help you with? Gwen asked nervously.
Connor and his wife Tiffany were among our best friends. They lived just around the corner and we'd been out together or to each other's homes countless times. Our boys played lacrosse together. Our girls were best friends.
No, that's all. Thanks, I said, and hung up.
Never had I seen anything indicating something between Joan and Connor. When we hung out, they never disappeared together or seemed overtly affectionate or flirty. It was always Connor with Tiffany and Joan with me or the women together while Connor and I hung out grilling or smoking cigars.
Was it possible they'd been having an affair all this time? Weren't there supposed to be telltale signs of infidelity?
I mentally checked the list. Staying out late or not coming home normally? No. We were always together. More concerned with physical appearance? No. She'd always been that way. Changes in wardrobe, more revealing? No, she always dressed fashionably but not in a bad way. Changes in sexual behavior? No, she was just as sexual as always. Change in frequency of intimacy? No, we had made love at least four days a week, every week. Becoming emotionally distant? Not at all. We were just as loving and communicative as always. Hiding things, locking phones, emails? No, I knew Joan's passwords and she knew mine.
But if what Gwen said was true and they'd been having an affair, it had been going on for at least ten years. How would I know what normal behavior was?
I racked my brain trying to think when an affair might have begun. Then it hit me. Almost eleven years ago, Joan had a miscarriage in the second trimester that devastated her. She needed counseling to get back to normal. Afterward, she decided to get her tubes tied to avoid the chance of it happening again.
Could that have been when it started? If she was having an affair? What if they were in love? What if they were just waiting until our kids moved out to divorce Tiffany and me? Was my perfect marriage just a sham?
I thought about our relationship. I loved my wife unconditionally and was absolutely confident she loved me the same way. You could see it in her eyes. People have commented on it many times. At dinner last month, the server came to me when Joan had gone to the powder room and said, Your wife loves you so much. You can see it when she looks at you. Her whole face lights up.
I told Joan about the comment when she returned and she kissed me and said she loved me more than anything or anyone.
Were we unhappy? I wasn't. I was blissfully happy. Nothing was missing in my life or my relationship with Joan. Was she unhappy? I couldn't believe so. She told me all the time how happy and lucky she was to have me.
Maybe she was lucky because I was so clueless I didn't catch on to her affair. Maybe she was happy because she got to have the family she wanted and all the secret affairs she craved on the side.
My thoughts went to darker places the longer I sat. I forced myself to stop. I didn't know for sure Joan was having an affair. All I knew was that years ago she went to the spa with Connor frequently and never told me. For the past several years, she continued telling me about her bi-monthly spa days. So either she changed spas without telling me or she'd been lying.
I wondered what else she was hiding. The only other times we weren't together were when she was working, which placed her with Connor, and her yearly personal vacation. Was it possible Joan had been lying about where she went every year? Was I that clueless?
An idea hit me. I grabbed my phone, hoping I had Tiffany's number. I scrolled through my contacts and found her. I knew she worked from home, so Connor wouldn't be with her. I called and she answered right away.
She was surprised it was me calling.
Is something wrong, Troy? she asked.
No, not at all, I lied. I was just thinking about Joan and I celebrating our twentieth anniversary this year.
That's right, she said. Congratulations.
Oh, are you planning a surprise party?
Sort of, I replied. I thought it would be cool if the four of us went somewhere together, like to our cabin in Colorado for a few days.
That sounds great, she replied. Connor and I love the mountains. When were you thinking and for how long?
I checked my calendar for our annual sabbatical dates and gave them to Tiffany.
Well, Tiffany hesitated. That would work for me, but unfortunately Connor has his annual hunting trip that week. He does it each fall.
Warning bells went off loudly.
Every year? I asked.
Yeah, she confirmed. For at least eight or nine years. Connor's very picky about the dates and I can never schedule anything then.
Is that right? I asked.
Well, you should know, Troy. Joan has that same week off every year. The company shuts down for the whole week and every employee gets an extra paid leave week. Connor calls it the annual sabbatical.
I was stunned and couldn't speak.
You there, Troy? Tiffany asked concerned.
Yeah, I said. I guess that won't work then.
I wanted to end the call.
Are you okay? You don't sound good, Tiffany asked. Is there something you want to talk about?
I'm fine. I'll see if another time works and get back to you, I lied.
Do me a favor?
Sure, what do you need?
I want this to be a surprise for Joan, I explained. Could you keep this between us?
No problem.
As I was about to hang up, Tiffany spoke again.
Troy, if you change your mind about wanting to talk, call me back. I can tell something's bothering you.
Thanks, Tiffany, I said. I'll do that.
I ended the call and sat staring into space as my world came crashing down. If what I suspected was true, I couldn't see any way to salvage my marriage. I couldn't continue living a lie, being the gullible one. It was unforgivable that my wife had done this behind my back for years. I thought she loved me. I couldn't stand that Joan and Connor had kept this secret from Tiffany and me.
That night, I pretended to be sick to avoid Joan. I texted her that I was staying in the guest room to prevent her from catching anything.
The next morning, I convinced her to go to her spa day rather than stay home with me. After she left, I sat down and formulated my plan for revenge. My wife's betrayal deserved something special. And Connor, that backstabbing son of a bitch, he'd pay, too.
First, I hired a private investigator to follow them on their spa day. I needed concrete evidence. Sure enough, by evening, I had photos of them checking into a hotel, kissing in the hallway, and exiting together hours later. I also discovered they owned a secret condo together in a neighboring town, their little love nest.
Second, I contacted my attorney and began quietly separating our finances. I moved my portion of our joint savings to a new account she couldn't access. I documented everything, including the private investigator's findings.
Third, I compiled all their text messages and emails from Joan's phone and computer backups I had access to. They weren't careful. They'd been getting away with it for so long. They'd grown sloppy.
I waited until a week before our anniversary. I invited Connor and Tiffany over for a special anniversary dinner, saying I wanted their help planning a surprise for Joan. They came unsuspecting.
When everyone was seated in our dining room, I stood up for a toast.
I want to thank you all for coming tonight, I began, my voice steady. This is a special occasion, not just because our anniversary is next week, but because tonight is about revelations.
Joan looked at me with confusion.
Troy, what's going on?
I smiled coldly.
Joan, remember how I was sick a few weeks ago? That was the day I discovered you haven't been to Golden Sun Spa in over ten years.
The color drained from her face. Connor stiffened in his chair.
I'd like to share something with everyone, I continued, pulling out a tablet. I tapped the screen, and our large living room TV displayed a slideshow of photos. Joan and Connor entering the hotel, kissing passionately and leaving together hours later.
Tiffany gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Connor, what is this?
That's not all, I continued. I have records of their condo purchase, their secret credit card, and most damning, a decade of text messages detailing their affair.
I turned to Tiffany.
I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I only discovered this a few weeks ago myself.
Joan stood up, tears in her eyes.
Troy, please, we can explain.
Explain what? I interrupted. How you've been having an affair with my supposed friend for at least ten years. How you both lie about your sabbaticals to spend them together? How you came home to me after letting him have you?
Connor tried to speak, but I cut him off.
Don't bother, Connor. I've already sent copies of everything to your company's board of directors, highlighting how you've been sexually involved with a subordinate for years. That's a clear violation of company policy, isn't it? I believe they're meeting tomorrow morning to discuss your future.
Connor's face went pale.
You didn't.
I did, I confirmed. I also sent copies to both sets of our parents, our children, and our closest friends. Everyone will know what kind of people you really are.
I turned back to Joan.
As for us, I've already filed for divorce. My lawyer will contact you. I've documented the adultery thoroughly, so don't expect much sympathy from the judge.
Joan was sobbing now.
Troy, please. I love you. It wasn't what you think.
Save it, I said. You had ten years to come clean. Ten years of lies. Did you really think I wouldn't find out eventually?
I looked at both of them.
You might be wondering about your secret condo. Funny thing, I had the locks changed yesterday and transferred the utilities to my name. I've donated all your belongings to a homeless shelter. The property manager has instructions not to let either of you in.
Connor stood up, his face red with anger.
You can't do that. We own that place.
Actually, you don't anymore. I smiled. The condo is now owned by a trust I established for victims of infidelity. Your little love nest will now house people whose lives were destroyed by cheaters like you.
I turned to Tiffany, who sat shell-shocked.
Tiffany, I've arranged for a car to take you home. My lawyer can recommend someone excellent if you need one. I'm truly sorry you had to find out this way.
I walked to the front door and opened it.
Connor, I suggest you leave before I do something we'll both regret. Joan, you have until tomorrow to pack your essentials. After that, the locks will be changed.
Connor stormed out, cursing. Joan fell to her knees, pleading.
Troy, please, we can work through this. Twenty years of marriage.
Twenty years of lies, I corrected her. Leave your keys and credit cards on the table on your way out.
After they left, Tiffany remained seated, tears streaming down her face.
I'm sorry, I said softly. I didn't want to hurt you, but you deserved the truth.
She nodded slowly.
How did you figure it all out?
A spa membership renewal notice, I replied. Small things can unravel the biggest lies.
Six months later, I was sitting on my deck overlooking the lake. The divorce had been finalized, heavily in my favor due to the documented adultery. Connor had lost his job and most of his assets in his divorce from Tiffany. Last I heard, he and Joan were living in a small apartment, both working entry-level jobs after their reputations were destroyed.
My phone rang. It was Tiffany. We'd become friends through our shared trauma.
Hey, Troy, she said. Just checking if we're still on for dinner tonight.
Absolutely, I replied, looking forward to it.
As I hung up, I smiled. The perfect marriage had been a perfect lie, but there was nothing more satisfying than perfect revenge.