After My Husband Betrayed Me for Whitney

I stared at the roast chicken growing cold on our dining table, the same way my heart had grown cold watching my husband's eyes light up at the sound of Whitney's ringtone. It was our anniversary dinner—a fact Phillip had apparently forgotten the moment her name flashed across his screen.

"Whitney! Hey!" His voice transformed, infused with an eagerness he never showed for me anymore. The fork he'd been using to pick at my carefully prepared meal clattered against his plate.

I took a slow sip of wine, trying to swallow down the familiar bitterness rising in my throat. Three years of marriage had taught me exactly what would happen next.

"Blue fireworks? For your mountain gathering?" Phillip's eyebrows shot up, but his smile never faltered. "That's fire season, Whit. You know the regulations..."

I set my glass down. "Phillip, you can't possibly—"

He held up his hand to silence me, turning slightly away. The gesture stung more than any words could have.

"I know how much this means to you," he continued, completely ignoring my presence. "I'll figure something out."

When he hung up, he was already standing, napkin tossed carelessly beside his half-eaten food.

"I need to go," he announced, not quite meeting my eyes. "Whitney needs help with permits for her event next weekend."

"It's our anniversary," I said quietly, hating how small my voice sounded.

He paused, guilt flickering briefly across his face before being replaced by irritation. "I know that, Rose. But this is important. I'm the fire chief—people depend on me."

"Including your wife?" The words escaped before I could stop them.

His jaw tightened. "Don't start this again. Your jealousy of Whitney is getting old."

"This isn't about jealousy!" I pushed back my chair, standing to meet his gaze. "It's about fire safety regulations that exist for a reason. Blue fireworks during fire season? On the mountain? Are you insane?"

"I know what I'm doing," he snapped. "I'm the professional here, not you."

The door slammed behind him minutes later, leaving me alone with cooling food and a marriage that was just as cold.

---

Two days later, I found the falsified permits on Phillip's desk. My hands trembled as I read through them—approval for a fireworks display in an area that should have been completely off-limits during the driest part of summer.

"What are you doing in my office?"

I jumped at Phillip's voice, but didn't drop the papers. "You're actually going through with this? Phillip, you've disabled the automated monitoring systems for that entire sector."

He snatched the permits from my hand. "I'm creating a controlled situation. Whitney's gathering is important to her."

"More important than your job? Your oath to protect this community?" I searched his face for any sign of the man I'd married. "Your parents and sister are camping in that area this weekend."

"They'll be miles from the display site," he dismissed, organizing the papers with precise movements. "And I don't appreciate you snooping through my things."