My Husband’s Best Friend Toasted To Me As “The Temporary One” At Our 3rd Anniversary Dinner. I Just Found The “Future Plans” Folder For His Ex In His Locked Desk. How Do I Get My Revenge?

The Walkout

I grabbed my purse and pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping loud against the restaurant floor. Everyone at the table froze and stared at me like I just announced I was going to flip the whole thing over.

My sister stood up at the same time and put her hand on my arm, her grip tight and steady. David finally looked directly at me instead of at Lucas or his steak, and his face had this weird blank expression like he couldn’t decide if he was panicking or just annoyed that Lucas had messed up his careful timeline.

His mouth opened like he was going to say something, but nothing came out. I turned to walk toward the exit, and Lucas actually reached across the table for my wrist. His fingers wrapped around my arm, and I yanked it back so hard I almost knocked over the wine bottle.

He had this fake concerned look on his face now, like he hadn’t just spent 10 minutes destroying my marriage in front of everyone I cared about. Lucas said he didn’t mean to upset me; he just thought I should know the truth before Natalie got back in 3 weeks. Like that made it better. Like timing was the problem here and not the fact that my entire marriage was a lie.

I pulled my arm away from him and told him the only honest thing he’d done in 3 years was tell me what everyone really thought of my marriage. My voice came out louder than I meant it to, and the tables around us went quiet.

The waiter who’d been heading toward our table with dessert menus turned around and walked the other way. My mother-in-law made a small gasping sound, but she didn’t say anything to defend me or tell Lucas he was wrong. Nobody did. David just sat there with his hands flat on the table like he was waiting for this whole scene to be over so he could go back to his steak and his secret plans.

My sister grabbed her purse and mine and steered me toward the door. I could feel everyone watching us leave—the other diners, the staff, all 12 people at our anniversary table. My feet felt weird and disconnected from my body, but I kept walking.

When we got outside, the cool air hit my face, and I realized I’d been holding my breath. My sister asked if I was okay to walk to the car, and I nodded even though I wasn’t sure. The parking lot lights were too bright, and everything felt surreal, like I was watching this happen to someone else.

She unlocked her car, and I got in the passenger seat. My hands were shaking so hard I couldn’t get the seat belt buckled on the first try. My sister started driving without asking where I wanted to go; she just headed toward the house I shared with David like that was the obvious next step.

I stared out the window at the street lights going past and tried to process what had just happened. 3 years. I’d been married to David for 3 years, and the whole time he’d been calling me temporary. The whole time his friends had been laughing about it at poker night. The whole time he’d been planning for Natalie to come back like I was just keeping his bed warm until the real thing showed up.

The Evidence

My sister kept one hand on my shoulder during the drive and didn’t try to make me talk. The 20-minute drive felt like it took hours and also like it was over in seconds. When we pulled into the driveway, I got out before she’d even turned off the engine.

I walked straight to the front door and unlocked it with hands that were still shaking. The house looked exactly the same as when I’d left it 3 hours ago to go to our anniversary dinner. The dinner I’d planned for weeks. The dinner where I’d made reservations at David’s favorite restaurant and ordered his favorite wine and invited all the people he wanted there.

I walked past the living room and down the hall to David’s home office. I rarely went in there because he always said he needed privacy for work calls. Now I wondered what he was really doing in here with the door locked. My sister followed me into the office and watched as I started pulling open desk drawers.

The top drawer had pens and sticky notes and paper clips—normal office stuff. The second drawer had folders labeled with work project names. I pulled them out and flipped through them, but they were just boring work documents about quarterly reports and budget meetings. The third drawer was locked.

I yanked on it, but it didn’t budge. My sister asked if I had a key, and I shook my head. She looked around the office and found a letter opener on the desk. I took it from her and jammed it into the gap between the drawer and the desk frame. The cheap lock popped open after a few seconds of prying.

Inside the bottom drawer was a single folder labeled “Future Plans” in David’s neat handwriting. My stomach dropped before I even opened it. I pulled the folder out and set it on the desk.

The first page was a printed email from Natalie dated 18 months ago. 18 months. She’d been planning her return for over a year, and David had been helping her the whole time. The email was about job applications and which Dallas companies were hiring in her field. David had responded with a list of recommendations and offered to put in a good word at several places.

The tone was casual and friendly, but also something more. There was this familiarity that made my chest tight. I flipped to the next page and found another email where Natalie asked David to look at apartment listings for her. He’d responded with links to places near his office and made notes about which neighborhoods were good.

I kept reading, and the emails got worse. They weren’t just planning her move; they were planning their future together. Natalie called him “babe” in half the messages. David responded with inside jokes I didn’t understand, references to things they’d done together before she left.

There were emails about restaurants they wanted to try when she got back, plans to visit the lake house where they’d gotten engaged the first time, discussions about whether they should have a big wedding or something small and intimate.

My sister was reading over my shoulder, and I could hear her breathing getting faster. She kept making these small shocked sounds under her breath. The emails were so casual and warm and affectionate. Reading them felt like watching David have an entire relationship that had nothing to do with me.

In one message, Natalie wrote about missing him and counting down the days until she could come home. David wrote back that he’d been waiting for her and that everything would be perfect when she returned. No mention of his wife. No mention of the woman he’d been living with and sleeping next to for 3 years. I was just this obstacle he had to work around until Natalie came back.

My sister reached past me and pulled out another page from the middle of the folder. She held it up and said, “Oh my god,” so loud it made me jump.

The email had photos attached: four different engagement rings. Huge diamonds in different settings. The subject line said, “Round two better be perfect.”

Natalie had sent David pictures of rings she liked and asked which one he thought would look best on her hand. David had responded with detailed thoughts about each ring and promised the proposal would be everything she’d dreamed of. He even included a budget breakdown showing he had enough saved to afford the most expensive option. $40,000. The emergency fund that wasn’t for emergencies at all.

I sat down hard in David’s desk chair because my legs wouldn’t hold me up anymore. My sister kept flipping through the folder and finding more evidence. Receipts for the apartment deposits Lucas had mentioned. Bank statements showing monthly transfers to the secret account.

A printed lease agreement for two units in the same building with connecting balconies. David’s signature was on both leases. A confirmation email from the wedding venue thanking him for his continued monthly payments and confirming the October 15th date was still reserved. The venue coordinator had written that they were excited to finally see his wedding happen after 4 years of waiting.

Four years. He’d been paying them the whole time we were together. My sister and I sat in that office reading through everything for what felt like hours but was probably only 30 minutes. Every document confirmed what Lucas had said. Every email made it worse.

This wasn’t just David staying friendly with an ex. This was David maintaining a whole relationship while pretending to be married to me. This was David treating our marriage like a temporary job he had to do until his real life could start. I thought about all the times he’d been distant or distracted. All the times he’d said he was working late. All the mornings he checked his phone before saying good morning to me. He’d been checking for messages from Natalie, counting down until she came back.