When we got the wedding invite from Max’s old college friend Emily, I was thrilled. But Max flat-out refused to go. “I’m not wasting a Saturday on people I barely remember,” he said. His sudden coldness confused me—he and Emily had once been close. Still, I didn’t push. I decided I’d go alone, and Max would stay with our two kids.

On the big day, I came home from the salon, makeup done and hair styled—only to find chaos. The house was a mess, the kids were confused, and worst of all, my car was gone. “Daddy left,” Emma said. “He got a call, said ‘wedding,’ and just drove off.” My heart sank. The wedding he refused to attend? He’d left our kids alone and taken my car to sneak off.

I called my mom in a panic, had her come watch the kids, then borrowed her car and headed to the venue. On the way, I called the event manager and told her not to let Max in. When I arrived, there he was—pacing outside, furious. “Let me in!” he shouted over the phone. “Not a chance,” I replied.

Then Emily came out. “I called him earlier, just to say goodbye,” she said. “I didn’t expect him to show up.” Turns out, Max and Emily had history—something he never told me. He’d come to stop her wedding, to “right a past mistake.”

He didn’t stop the wedding. But he did ruin something else: my trust.

And maybe… our marriage.