I once believed that meeting Jason was a twist of fate.

At that time, my life seemed perfectly arranged: a stable job at a reputable firm, a cozy apartment in Brooklyn, and my son, Jamie—five years old and full of joy. When Jason came into my life, he was charming, grateful, and in need of a place to stay. I didn’t hesitate to welcome him.

“He treats Jamie like his own,” I told my best friend when he moved in.

“You hardly know him,” she cautioned. But I was too captivated by his warmth to heed her warning.

I even used my connections to help him land a job. He quickly climbed the ranks—new clothes, a car, and the confidence of someone who knew how to play the role. A year later, he proposed.

“You don’t need to work anymore,” he said. “Focus on Jamie. I’ll take care of everything.”

And I believed him.

Initially, it felt like I was living a dream. But gradually, things began to shift.

Jason started voicing complaints about Jamie—too sensitive, too quiet, not “boy enough.” Despite his steady paycheck, money became tight. Whenever I inquired, he always had an excuse: delayed transfers, unexpected expenses. It never added up, but I didn’t press the issue. I didn’t want to confront the reality of what was happening.

Eventually, I took on night shifts as a rideshare driver. It was the only way to keep our finances afloat without disturbing the delicate balance at home.

One night, I returned from my shift to find Martha—our neighbor—sitting in her robe with Jamie asleep in her lap.

“He was perfect,” she whispered, gently stroking his hair. “Like my own grandbaby. I don’t mind watching him.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” I told her.

But she frowned. “And Jason? Does he know how hard you’re working?”

“He knows,” I lied. “He’s just… busy.”

I had no idea just how “busy” he really was—until that night.

It was supposed to be another routine pickup. A man in a gray coat and a woman with red lipstick slid into the back seat like any couple on a romantic night out.

Then I glanced in the mirror—and my heart sank.

Jason. With someone else.

They didn’t recognize me. My hoodie was pulled low, and the cab was dim. I stayed silent and drove.

“I thought you were going to cancel again,” she whispered.

“Not tonight,” Jason replied, pulling her close. “I missed you.”

They kissed. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my hands ached.

“My parents want to meet you,” she said. “They said they’ll gift me a house if they think we’re serious. You know… engaged.”

Jason laughed. “So we’re playing house now?”

She giggled. “They’re old-fashioned. But it’s worth it. Two houses, maybe—live in one, rent the other.”

Jason’s voice dropped. “As soon as Abby gets her inheritance, I’m out. Her mom’s not doing well. It’ll happen soon.”

I kept my eyes on the road, my breath steady, even as everything inside me shattered.

“Saturday, then,” she said.

“Perfect,” Jason replied. “I’ll come up with something at home.”

Saturday. Our anniversary.

I dropped them off at a modest house—the kind he claimed was for “business travel.” He handed me cash without ever looking at my face.

“Thanks, buddy,” he said, disappearing inside.

I sat in silence for a moment, then whispered into the night:

“Game on, Jason.”

On Tuesday, I made his favorite stew and lit a candle. When he walked into the kitchen, I greeted him with a smile.

“Do you remember what Saturday is?”

He hesitated. “Anniversary, right? Yeah. Nine years. That watch, huh?”

I nodded. “I booked a place by the lake. A reservation for two at eight.”

He winced. “Ah, Saturday’s tough. Big business trip. But… we’re not a date-night couple anyway, right?”

“Of course,” I replied sweetly. “No big deal.”

Saturday arrived.

I dressed Jamie in his favorite green dinosaur shirt. I wore the same dress I had on our first date. As I applied my makeup, I barely recognized the woman in the mirror.

“Where are we going?” Jamie asked in the car.

“To a party,” I said. “But be polite, okay? Even if people lie.”

Ashley’s house was larger than I expected. Balloons, a grill smoking in the backyard, music, and laughter filled the air.

I rang the doorbell.

Ashley answered, her smile freezing when she saw me.

“Hi. You must be Ashley. I’m Jason’s wife.”

She stumbled back. Her parents appeared, confused. Jason emerged behind them, drink in hand. When he saw me, his face went