My best friend told me to wear something fancy. I thought it was finally happening. After three years, I was ready for more until I realized what the show was about.
I was thirty-six years old and loved my life just the way it was. I wasn’t looking for a prince. I was looking for stability, peace, and love.
And for a while, I thought I’d found it in Anthony. We’d been together for three years. Three. That’s practically an eternity in the world of singles.
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He was attentive when he wanted to be. Funny. Charismatic. And maddeningly unpredictable.
But love isn’t supposed to be perfect, right?
Still, time passed, and it was still somewhat… convenient. That started to bother me. Not at first. At first, I made excuses for him.
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“He’s busy.”
“He’s not ready.”
“It takes time.”
But when you keep planning your Friday nights, only if he happens to remember you exist… That’s not love. So I decided to talk. Just talk. Like adults. No pressure.
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We were sitting in the cafeteria near my office. He was twenty minutes late. Actually, he was better than usual.
“Hi,” I smiled, a little stiffly. “Traffic again?”
“No, just… I got busy at the gym. So, what’s this urgent thing you wanted to talk about?”
I took a sip of tea.
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“I didn’t say it was urgent. I just wanted to talk.”
“Okay. I’m listening.”
“Anthony… We’ve been together for three years. And I… well… I don’t know where we’re going.”
He raised an eyebrow.
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“Where to?”
“I mean… our relationship. We’re kind of… at a standstill. You come, we hang out, you leave. And that’s it. I want more. Maybe… live together? Build something. Plan.”
Anthony remained silent. He sipped his coffee as if stalling.
“Are you saying I should marry you?”
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I almost choked. “What? No. I mean… not right now. But have you ever thought about it? About ‘us’? About the future?”
He grimaced. “Here we go…”
“Here we go”?
I exclaimed.
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“Anthony, I’m 36. I want a family. I dream of having breakfast together on Sundays, not waiting for your ‘Busy, text me later.’”
“So what’s the problem? We can just keep going like this. Everything’s fine, right?”
“It’s not going well!”
I slammed my hand on the table.
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“We’ve been together for three years! That’s the point where people either move on or admit they’re not getting anywhere.”
Silence again. Then Anthony shrugged.
“Okay. Let’s do something different. This weekend, to the theater. I’ll get tickets. If you want a step up, you’ll get it.”
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I stared at him.
“Are you serious?”
“Absolutely. Wear something fancy. Surprise me.”
And then he smiled. And something fluttered inside me again. Was it fear? Or hope? I couldn’t say. But my heart started beating faster.
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***
It was Saturday. I woke up with that strange feeling in my stomach, the kind that only appears when something big is about to happen.
When you’ve already imagined all the possibilities, and each one is beautiful. I lost myself in sweet thoughts while frothing milk for my coffee.
“He’s changed. He’s listened to me. He’s planning something special.”
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The theater. It sounded like a step forward. Finally, something more than sushi after nine and a half-watched movie on her couch. First, I called my best friend, Cindy.
“Guess what?”
“Is he going to live with you?”
“No, but… he invited me to the theater. To the theater, Cindy.”
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She gave a dry chuckle.
“Friend, theater is just theater. It’s not a step.”
“You’re joking, and I’m nervous. What if he proposes? Or something more? I can feel it, Cindy. I really can.”
Cindy laughed nervously on the phone.
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“Okay. So you need a hairstyle. A dress. A new lipstick. And probably a therapist on standby.”
An hour later, we were sitting in the salon. The hairdresser stared at me with a calm, curious gaze.
“Nothing too dramatic, okay? But… make him regret not asking me to move out every year.”
“Put it bluntly: Do you want him on his knees?”
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I blushed. “No… I mean… not necessarily. But if he does, I won’t say no.”
Next came the dress. I twirled around in front of the mirror while Cindy drank her fourth latte.
“This gray? Too much?”
“It’s perfect. It says, ‘I’ve never asked for anything, but I deserve everything.’”
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“But it’s just one night at the theater…”
“And he’s on parole,” Cindy said, zipping me up from behind.
I looked at myself. Bold lips. Bright eyes. A hairstyle that screamed prom.
“What if I imagined it all? What if he’s just… acting?” I whispered.
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“What if this is your moment?”
I nodded. The butterflies in my stomach had become a swarm.
My whole insides were churning: with fear, with hope, with the knowledge that something would change in my life tonight. I just didn’t know how much yet.
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***
I arrived ten minutes early. That’s what people do when they’re nervous. When they think one night could change everything.
I stood outside the cinema, staring at my reflection in the glass: lipstick still intact, hair still in place.
She looked like a woman who knew what she wanted.
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And then Anthony appeared. In a suit. No smile. None of his usual jokes about my heels or his fear of live performances. He was… different. His lips barely moved as he delivered the compliment.
“You look amazing.”
I smiled. “Thanks. You too. This is… unexpected. Theater, a suit… What’s next, a candlelit dinner?”
Anthony shuddered. Or maybe he had imagined it?
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“Come on. I want you to meet someone.”
Know someone?
Before I could ask, a woman approached us. She was flawless.
That kind of elegance, you’re born with it. High cheekbones, the scent of an expensive perfume, a dress with delicate stones tracing its sleeves.
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Anthony nodded to her as she took his hand.
“Lora, this is Elizabeth. My wife.”
My…
That?
Wife? WIFE?
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The blood pounded in my temples. I tried to speak, but my lips refused to move.
“And honey, this is Lora. We just ran into each other here. Remember I told you about that woman in the gallery? This is her.”
I stood there. In my red dress. With my perfect hair. With hope in my heart.
“Oh, how adorable!” Elizabeth laughed.
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His voice tingled like glass. Anthony was calm. Too calm for what was happening.
“Turns out we’re even sitting next to each other! What a curious coincidence.”
Side by side.
We were sitting next to each other.
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I, the woman waiting for a proposal.
She: the woman who already received one.
Anthony introduced me as a casual acquaintance.
A gallery contact. Someone he’d crossed paths with.
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What kind of man does this?
What kind of twisted and cruel plan is this?
But I smiled. Mechanically. I smiled because I didn’t know what else to do. My voice betrayed me. It sounded like someone else’s.
“Nice to meet you”.
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We entered the lobby. I sat next to Anthony. Next to the man who had lied to me for three years. The curtain rose. And I sat up straight, staring straight ahead. Only my hands trembled in my lap.
“Don’t cry. Not now. Not here.”
I didn’t see the play.
I didn’t hear the dialogues.
I stared at the stage, but the only thought echoing in my head was:
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“How could I have been so wrong?”
Anthony was fine. Whispering to HIS WIFE! He didn’t even look at me.
Three years. Three years!
And I was nothing more than a convenient shadow, easy to push away.
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When the performance finally ended, I didn’t wait for the curtain to rise. I stood up, nodded to Elizabeth, and whispered:
“They make a beautiful couple.”
Then I left the theater. Out of my illusion. Out of the script, where I believed I had the leading role.
And I came up with a plan. A plan for revenge, one Anthony would never forget.
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***
A week of silence. Of untouched tea that had gone cold. A week in which I didn’t live, I just existed. That night at the theater had become the final milestone in my faith.
“You can’t keep hiding like this,” Cindy said, appearing with a bag of croissants.
“I lived in a fantasy. And I lost.”
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“You’ve cried enough. Do you want to know who the man you cried for really is?”
He sat down across from me and placed his tablet on the table. There it was: Elizabeth’s website. Salons, studios, and interviews. It was everywhere. And in the background, Anthony.
“She finances him. Everything is in her name. Without her, he’s nobody. And you…” Cindy looked me straight in the eyes. “You were his breath of fresh air. No pressure. He came to escape the weight of his mediocrity.”
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I wanted to scream. But what was the point? I stayed silent until Cindy leaned toward me and whispered:
“Let’s show the truth. You wanted revenge, remember?”
“Yes, I wanted to. But after that night at the theater… I came home and didn’t have the strength.”
“Perfect. That means you’re rested now. And we’re going to give your Anthony a show he’ll never forget.”
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***
Two weeks later, the city gallery opened a new exhibition. Cindy had originally planned to show a series of landscapes, but… She graciously agreed to change course. It changed everything.
“I called it ‘Behind the Mask of Betrayal,’” he told me on opening night, smoothing my hair. “You look stunning.”
“You sent the invitation, right?”
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“A personalized one. Believe me, a woman like Elizabeth never misses events like this.”
“I just hope everything works out…”
“Perfectly? Of course. And trust me: your Anthony will cling to her like a leash.”
An hour later, we were receiving the guests.
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Bright room. White walls. Dozens of photos. A love story captured on camera, and two people who thought no one else had seen it. Captions under the photos:
“August. He said he’d never been happier.”
“February. Weekends at the lake house.”
“September. The best movie night.”
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In the middle of the room, a large screen played a looping video: I’m laughing. Anthony hugs me. Sunlight filters through the trees. He spins me around in his arms.
On the wall, a projector projected the title in clear letters:
“Based on a true story of betrayal.”
The guests moved silently around the room. Some wiped away tears. Others whispered, “This is so honest.”
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And then… They arrived. Elizabeth, in a white and emerald dress. Anthony, beside her, in the same suit he wore to the theater. I stood near the video rig.
Elizabeth came closer. She read the subtitles. Her eyes narrowed. Then she turned to me.
“Is it true? Is it… about you two?”
I stared at her.
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“Your husband loves theater. And lies. I thought… you deserved to know the whole script.”
Anthony remained silent. Pale. Elizabeth turned to him:
“How could you? I gave you everything.”
“I… It was complicated. I didn’t mean to…”
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I stepped back and said, “You dared to lie to two women at once. I dared to turn your lie into art. Now everyone sees you for who you are.”
Elizabeth gave a bitter laugh.
“It’s nothing without me. And without you? Even less.”
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Then he nodded at me and left. Anthony stayed. Alone. People moved around him as if he didn’t exist. The exhibition continued.
And me? I stood in the middle of the room.
Not with revenge, but with truth.
For the first time, the protagonist of my own story.
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If you liked this story, read this one: I always believed my parents had given me a perfect childhood, full of love and trust. But one night, while searching for old family photos in the attic, I stumbled upon a sealed letter. What I read inside turned my whole world upside down and changed everything I thought I knew. Read the full story here .
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