On our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband raised his glass and called our marriage the worst decision of his life.
His family laughed. I didn’t.
For a few seconds, I sat with my hand resting beside my plate, listening to the soft scrape of forks against china and Patricia Carter’s loud, delighted laugh.
We were at the Refectory in Columbus, Ohio, in one of those private dining rooms with cream-colored walls and old photographs in polished frames. Daniel had chosen the restaurant because, he said, it was quiet enough for family but nice enough to remember.
I had believed him.
I had spent most of that Saturday getting ready. I’d gone to the salon that morning, stopped by Whole Foods for a bottle of the Cabernet Daniel liked, and changed my earrings twice before settling on small gold hoops.
I wasn’t trying to impress anyone. I simply wanted our tenth anniversary to feel like something worth remembering.
Apparently, Daniel wanted the same thing, just not for the reason I thought.
He stood at the end of the table with his wineglass raised.
“To ten years,” he said.
Patricia smiled proudly. Daniel’s brother, Greg, lifted his glass. Greg’s wife, Linda, followed, though she looked distracted.
Then Daniel looked directly at me.
“Ten years with you was the worst decision of my life.”
There was a tiny pause. Then Patricia laughed, and Greg laughed harder. Someone at the other end of the table made a startled sound, and Daniel’s mouth curved into a satisfied smile.
I looked down at my plate: chicken, roasted vegetables, a small mound of mashed potatoes I hadn’t touched. I picked up my fork, then set it down very gently.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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