Six months of dating had been enough for us both. When Shawn proposed under the Northern Lights during our Iceland trip, I didn't hesitate, even with my punishing hospital schedule and his demanding business empire. Some called it reckless, my younger sister Lina had practically begged me to wait, but when you know, you know. The whirlwind romance had swept us both off our feet, two people from prominent families who recognized their soulmate across a crowded charity gala benefiting my hospital's children's wing.
The memory of our wedding day still brings tears to my eyes. Everything had been perfect, from the custom Vera Wang gown to the tears in Shawn's eyes as I walked down the aisle. He'd promised to cherish me until his dying breath, to support my career as one of the city's most sought-after neurosurgeons, to never let my dedication to saving lives come between us.
A noise from downstairs pulled me from my reverie. Strange. I'd managed to swap shifts with Dr. Cohen specifically to prepare for tonight, and Shawn wasn't due home for another hour. Curious, I stepped out of our master bedroom and froze at the top of the grand staircase.
My heart stopped.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The words tore from my throat as I watched two maids carrying my luggage down the hallway, away from the master suite.
Carla, our head maid who had brought me coffee just that morning and wished me a happy anniversary, glanced up. Her eyes met mine for a brief second before she quickly looked away, continuing toward the guest quarters at the far end of the mansion without acknowledging my question.
The world tilted beneath my feet. My stomach clenched as though I'd been punched. This had to be a mistake, some cruel joke. My trembling fingers found my phone, and I frantically dialed Shawn's number. One ring. Two. Declined. I called again. Declined again. A third time, his phone went straight to voicemail.
"Carla!" I rushed after her, my heels clicking against the marble floors. "Have I done something to offend you? Why are you ignoring me? It's our anniversary, for God's sake!"
She continued walking as if she hadn't heard me at all, the silence more cutting than any insult could have been. The second maid couldn't even meet my eyes.
The weight of confusion crushed my chest as I sank onto the living room sofa, the elaborate bouquet of roses I'd arranged as part of Shawn's surprise mocking me from the center table. The card I'd handwritten still rested beside it: To my forever love, happy anniversary. Every day with you feels like a gift, even after 16-hour surgeries. -Your Maya
Hours passed like centuries. The grandfather clock in the corner struck seven, then eight, then nine. My calls went unanswered. My texts unread. The dinner reservation came and went. The charm in my purse felt heavier with each passing minute.
I must have fallen asleep, my body surrendering to the emotional exhaustion that felt worse than any post-surgery crash I'd ever experienced. When my eyes fluttered open, golden sunlight streamed through the windows. My neck ached from the awkward position, and my mouth felt dry. The events of yesterday crashed back, and I gasped, frantically checking my phone.
Nothing from Shawn. No explanation. No apology.
"Where are you?" I whispered, my voice cracking with the strain of unshed tears.
As if summoned by my desperation, the front door swung open. Relief flooded my system, until I saw him. My husband walked in wearing clothes I'd never seen before, his usually immaculate appearance somehow different, harder. Before I could rush to him, demand answers, a woman stepped in behind him.
She was tall, willowy, with fiery red hair cascading down her back. Her black dress hugged every curve of her body, and her makeup was flawlessly applied, making her green eyes pop. But what shattered my world wasn't her appearance, it was how she casually intertwined her fingers with my husband's, how she leaned into him with the familiarity of a lover.
"Shawn?" His name escaped my lips as a broken question.