The night was supposed to be a joyful celebration—my sister Emma’s 40th birthday. Laughter and conversation filled the house, the rich aroma of roasted chicken, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked bread lingering in the air. Emma had outdone herself, as always.
Her two kids, Ava and Ben, darted around the room, giggling as they stole tiny bites of cake when they thought no one was looking. Our parents and Emma’s friends were scattered in small groups, chatting, sipping wine, and enjoying the evening.
Emma looked beautiful, glowing with happiness. But her husband, Graham, was another story. He sat stiffly at the head of the table, barely acknowledging anyone, his eyes glued to his phone. Occasionally, when someone spoke to him, he nodded without looking up, a hollow smile flashing across his face.
Emma leaned down, whispering something in his ear.
“Yeah, yeah, in a minute,” he muttered, barely glancing up.
Emma straightened, her smile faltering for just a moment before she turned back to the guests.
Something about the way Graham was acting didn’t sit right with me. I felt a strange tightness in my chest, but I pushed it aside. Tonight was about Emma, and I wasn’t going to let my unease spoil her birthday.
Dinner plates were cleared, wine glasses refilled, and the birthday cake was finally sliced and passed around. The moment seemed perfect for a toast.
I turned toward Graham, expecting him to say something special to his wife.
“Graham, aren’t you going to give a toast to Emma?” I asked, smiling.
Silence.
Graham slowly lifted his head and stared at me as if I had just insulted him. His grip tightened around his glass. Without warning, he threw the soda in my face.
Gasps filled the room. Someone dropped a fork.
Cold liquid dripped down my cheeks, soaking into my blouse. I sat frozen in shock.
“None of your business!” Graham snapped, his face red with rage. “Do you know why you’re still single? Because you stick your nose where it doesn’t belong!”
The room went deathly silent.
Emma’s eyes widened. “Graham, what the—”
But before she could finish, Graham shoved his chair back, grabbed his jacket, and stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
Everyone remained frozen, unsure of what to say. My father cleared his throat. My mother shook her head. A few guests awkwardly sipped their drinks, pretending they hadn’t just witnessed the outburst.
Emma rushed to my side, her hands trembling. “Come with me,” she whispered.
She pulled me toward the restroom, closing the door behind us. Grabbing a towel, she gently patted my face.
“I don’t know why he acted like that,” she whispered, her voice laced with both embarrassment and pain. “I’m so sorry.”
I swallowed hard, looking at our reflections in the mirror. Emma wasn’t just humiliated—she was hurt. And I knew exactly why.
I took a deep breath. “Emma, I need to show you something.”
She frowned. “What?”
Pulling out my phone, I hesitated for a moment, my fingers shaking. “Three nights ago, I saw Graham at a restaurant.”
She blinked. “At your restaurant?”
I nodded. “He wasn’t alone.”
Emma swallowed, her face paling.
I tapped my screen, and the photo popped up. There he was—sitting at a candlelit table, leaning in close to a woman in a red dress. They were laughing, their hands almost touching. And then the next photo—
A kiss.
Emma’s breath hitched. She stared at the screen, motionless.
“I called you that night,” I whispered. “Remember? I asked where Graham was.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Yeah… I said he had a business meeting.”
I hesitated. “I already knew he was lying. I just—I guess I wanted to hear what you’d say.”
Her gaze stayed locked on the image.
“I felt it,” she finally whispered. “For a long time. He stopped looking at me the way he used to. Stopped touching me. The late nights, the excuses…” She let out a bitter laugh. “God, I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” I said firmly. “He’s just a liar.”
Her hands curled into fists. “He won’t get away with this.”
I hesitated. “There’s more.”
She looked up. “What?”
“I confronted him the next day.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You what?”
I nodded. “I called him. Told him I knew what he did. That either he tells you the truth, or I will.”
Emma’s mouth fell open. “What did he say?”
I clenched my fists, remembering his cold, cruel laugh.
“He called me crazy. Said I must’ve mistaken him for someone else. Then he hung up on me.”
Emma exhaled sharply. “That’s why he reacted like that tonight.”
“Yeah.” I let out a breath. “He was already furious with me. The toast just pushed him over the edge.”
She looked at my phone again, her expression unreadable.
“I need more proof.”
I blinked. “What?”
“If I’m going to end this, I need more than just a photo.” She met my eyes, her voice steady. “I need to know everything.”
I hesitated. “Emma… are you sure you want to do this tonight?”
She let out a short, bitter laugh. “I don’t think I can sleep until I do.”
I nodded. “Then let’s find out the truth.”
Upstairs, Emma opened her laptop and logged into their joint bank account. Her eyes scanned the screen, then she stiffened.
“What?” I asked.
She turned the laptop toward me.
There it was—large withdrawals. $500 here. $1,200 there. And a week ago… a $3,000 charge at a jewelry store.
“Did he buy you any jewelry recently?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “No.”
My stomach twisted. “Then who did he buy it for?”
Emma inhaled sharply. “I think we already know.” She slammed the laptop shut. “We’re going to make him face this. And he’s not getting away quietly.”
Graham came home after midnight, walking in like nothing had happened. But we were waiting.
I picked up the remote. “Graham, we have a special presentation for you.”
The TV screen lit up.
Slide One: Bank transactions. Slide Two: A receipt for the jewelry. Slide Three: The incriminating photo.
Graham’s face drained of color. “Are you crazy?!”
Emma crossed her arms. “No, but I think you are.”
A folder landed on the table. “Oh, and one more thing,” she said. “Happy birthday to me.”
Inside: A legal document. A bill.
$50,000.
“The price for fifteen years of marriage,” Emma said. “Every meal, every sacrifice, every lie. Consider it back pay.”
Graham gawked. “You’re both insane.”
I popped open a champagne bottle. “Cheers to that.”
And with that, Graham stormed out, slamming the door.
Emma exhaled, a weight lifting. “You didn’t ruin my birthday,” she said. “You gave me a gift.”
I smiled. “Freedom.”
