I woke up that morning just like any other. Twenty-eight years of marriage had settled into a comfortable rhythm — wake up early, make coffee, and prepare breakfast for our 17-year-old son who still lived with us — our two older children had already moved out — and enjoy a few moments of peace before the day swallowed me whole.

Valentine’s Day wasn’t a big deal in our house. It never really had been. Boredom had long replaced passion, and grand romantic gestures had never been Brandon’s thing.

So when I glanced outside and saw my car covered in paper hearts, I actually gasped.

For a brief, stupid moment, my heart swelled. Had he done this? After all these years?

I stepped outside, the cold morning air biting at my skin as I walked toward the car. The sight was almost ridiculous — hundreds of pink paper hearts plastered all over the doors, the windows, even the mirrors. They fluttered in the wind, sticking stubbornly to the surface.

I smiled. Maybe I had misjudged him.

Maybe, after nearly three decades together, my husband had finally decided to surprise me.

Then I picked up a paper heart and read the message underneath. Every heart had a note.

It read, Your husband is a liar.

I ripped off another paper heart.

It read, Brandon only loves me.

Another.

He’ll never tell you the truth.

I felt my heart almost flipped inside my chest. I quickly grabbed the hearts and yanked them away.

One by one, they revealed the same kind of message.

You deserve to know.

He was with me last night.

Ask him about the woman he’s been seeing.

I tried pulling the hearts off faster. Every time I yanked one away, it left behind an ugly smear of adhesive on my pristine car.

Neighbors started peeking from their windows.

I forced myself to look up at my house, and saw Brandon at the window.

I turned back to the car as I pulled one last paper heart.

It read, He’ll never choose you.

The words blurred as tears filled my eyes.

Happy Valentine’s Day to me.

I quickly rushed back into my house and marched straight to the kitchen.

I found Brandon sitting at the counter, scrolling through his phone like nothing had happened.

I threw one of the paper hearts onto the counter.

“What the hell is this, Brandon?” I asked in a shaky voice.

“What are you talking about? I don’t know who did this.”

“Seriously, Brandon?” I let out a bitter laugh. “You saw me from the window, right? All those hearts on my car… they’re talking about you and some woman you’re seeing. And you’re saying you really don’t know who did this?”

“It’s probably a prank,” he said as he sipped his coffee. “Must be some stupid kids messing around.”

Liar.

I stomped toward the security monitor in the living room. My fingers flew over the controls when I rewound the footage from the night before.

And there she was.

Linda.

Our neighbor.

At 3 a.m., under the dim glow of the streetlights, she was gluing those damn hearts onto my car.

I thought. Brandon and Linda? They’re together? How is this even possible?

My throat tightened as I recalled every moment when I saw Linda standing outside her house as Brandon left for work. She’d been our neighbor for as long as I could remember, but I never once suspected Brandon had an affair with her.

If my husband wasn’t going to tell me anything, then there was only one thing I could do. Confront Linda.

I immediately stormed next door and banged on her door so hard it rattled.

It looked like Linda’d been crying. Like she already knew why I was there.

“How long?” I asked calmly.

Linda’s lip trembling. “Twenty years.”

I shook my head. “You’re lying.”

She let out a sad laugh. “I wish I was.”

I stared at her, hoping she’d say it was all some kind of an elaborate joke.

But instead, she spoke again.

“He told me he’d leave you. Over and over again, for two whole decades. He just needed the right moment. He told me you weren’t well… that you couldn’t handle a divorce. That he had to stay because he felt sorry for you. I can prove it.”

I couldn’t believe my husband had spent twenty years living a double life.

I rushed back home without saying a word. It was time to confront Brandon before I asked her for proof.

“Linda just told me everything,” I said, crossing my arms while looking straight into his eyes.

“She’s lying,” he said. “She’s obsessed with me. She’s been coming on to me for years, but I never—”

“Prove it,” I cut him off.

“What?”

“Prove it,” I repeated, stepping closer. “Because it looks like she’s got twenty years’ worth of stories, Brandon. She told me how you needed the right moment to leave me. I’m sure she’s got much more to tell me about your affair.”

“Babe, I don’t know what she’s talking about,” he said. “I don’t have proof because there’s nothing to prove, okay?”

I scoffed. “Convenient.”

“I swear to you, Kate. I have never been with her,” he began.

Without wasting another minute, I turned around and marched straight back to Linda’s house.

“Show me proof,” I demanded. “If you have it, he’s yours.”

She didn’t hesitate. She pulled out her phone, scrolling furiously before shoving it into my hands.

And there it was.

Photos. Videos. Messages.

My legs felt weak, but I forced myself to stand tall.

I didn’t cry. Not yet.

I handed her phone back. “Thank you.”

The next morning, I decided to file for divorce.

Brandon still said Linda was lying. He swore the photos, videos, and text messages were fake. He even claimed Linda had been stalking him for years and had fabricated everything.

“Trust me,” he said. “I’ll prove she’s lying. My lawyers will take care of everything.”

The lawyers found inconsistencies in the timestamps of the videos and digital alterations in the photos.

It turned out Linda had hired a tech expert to forge messages, splicing together old voicemails and using AI to create fabricated conversations.

The supposed hotel footage was traced back to a manipulated stock video, and every single piece of “proof” she had provided fell apart under scrutiny.

And that’s how Brandon saved our marriage from falling apart. That’s how he stopped me from filing for divorce.

I don’t know why Linda did what she did, but it looked like she had spent 20 years in love with a man who had never been hers.

I guess she had been waiting for something that never existed.

That night, as we sat in the dimly lit living room, I finally spoke.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” I whispered. “I should have believed you.”

He exhaled slowly, setting down his glass of whiskey. “Kate, after all these years, do you really think I could do that to you?”

“No, but…” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

“I love you,” he said, reaching for my hand. “I always have.”

I nodded. “I know.”

After everything that happened, I sued Linda for damaging my car. Soon, she was forced to pay for the repairs and deep-cleaning. We even got a restraining order against her.