When His Mistress Got My Anniversary Gift

I rose before dawn on Memorial Day, my heart lighter than it had been in months. Today wasn't just a holiday—it was our wedding anniversary. Fifteen years of marriage deserved celebration, even if Ryan had forgotten the last three.

Not this year. I'd left hints for weeks, casually mentioning dinner reservations and reminiscing about our honeymoon. This morning would be perfect—a surprise breakfast with Jake and Ryan before they started their day.

The kitchen was silent as I worked. I arranged Ryan's favorite pastries on our best china, brewed his preferred dark roast, and set out fresh-squeezed orange juice in crystal glasses. Three red roses—one for each of us—stood in a slender vase at the center of the table. I placed our wedding photo beside it, along with snapshots from happier times: Jake's fifth birthday, our trip to Napa Valley, the day we bought this house.

The morning light spilled through the windows as I lit two tapered candles. The flame flickered, casting a warm glow across the polished wood. Perfect.

I glanced at the clock: 7:30 AM. They should be down soon. I smoothed my dress—a new one, robin's egg blue that Ryan once said brought out my eyes—and waited.

By nine, the coffee had gone cold. The pastries sat untouched, their glazed surfaces hardening in the air. The candles had burned halfway down.

At ten, I heard movement upstairs. My heart quickened as I reheated the coffee and straightened the silverware. But it was just Jake, rushing down with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

"Mom, Dad said to tell you we're heading out. Victoria's birthday brunch." He barely looked at me, eyes fixed on his phone.

"But—" The word caught in my throat. "Today is our anniversary."

Jake shrugged, already halfway to the door. "Dad didn't mention that. We'll be back tomorrow."

The door slammed behind him before I could respond.

I stood frozen beside my perfect table, listening to the car engine start and fade away. They knew. They both knew what today was. I'd mentioned it just three days ago at dinner.

By noon, the candles had guttered out. I hadn't moved from my chair, staring at the untouched settings across from me. My phone buzzed on the table.

A notification from Instagram. I opened it mechanically, then felt my stomach drop. Ryan had posted a photo—him, Jake, and Victoria, raising champagne flutes at some trendy restaurant on Rodeo Drive. Victoria wore a stunning red dress, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder. Ryan's arm was around her waist, his smile wider than any he'd directed at me in years. The caption read: "Happy Birthday, Vic! Love you both ❤️"

My fingers trembled as I scrolled through his feed. More photos appeared: Jake and Victoria laughing over elaborate desserts; Ryan presenting her with a small blue box that I recognized immediately—Tiffany's. In every image, they looked like a perfect family—the family I thought was mine.

I set down the phone and let my gaze