“We’ll meet at The Oak Tavern. Tomorrow night, 7 p.m. He won’t suspect a thing if it’s me asking him
The next evening felt surreal. I arrived at The Oak Tavern, nerves on edge, but ready. Dayna and Ed were already there, cozied up in a booth.
As I approached, their laughter cut through the din of the bar. I took out my phone and snapped a few pictures before Ed even noticed me.
His face when he saw me was something I’ll never forget—a mix of shock, fear, and guilt. “Britt? What are you—”
“Save it, Ed.” I threw the pictures down in front of him. “We’re done.”
The whole bar watched as Ed tried to stutter out an explanation. Dayna slipped out quietly, and I left him there, a broken man amid the whispers of the crowd.
I filed for divorce the next day, armed with my proof. And in a twist of poetic justice, I sent that embarrassing photo of Ed to the local newspaper.
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