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 Packing

We went back to David’s office and started going through everything. We pulled out every folder and opened every drawer. My sister took photos of documents with her phone. I read emails that made my stomach hurt. We found the lease agreement for both apartments in a folder marked “Personal”. The apartments were two blocks from David’s office with connecting balconies. The lease started next month.

We found bank statements for the separate account. $40,000 exactly. Deposits every month for 3 years. We found a document titled “Transition Planning” that laid out how David would handle divorcing me. It had timelines and bullet points. It treated ending our marriage like a business project. There was a section about how to minimize my claim to joint assets, another section about optimal timing for filing.

My sister read it over my shoulder and said words I’d never heard her say before. We kept digging. We found emails between David and Natalie going back 2 years. Not 4 years—2 years. Which meant he’d been talking to her for most of our marriage. The emails were full of inside jokes and memories from before I existed in his life. She sent him photos from Tokyo; he sent her photos of places in Dallas she used to love. They talked about restaurants they’d go to when she got back, shows they’d see, trips they’d take. Like I wasn’t even a factor. Like I was already gone.

We found the contract with the wedding venue. David had been paying them $50 a month to hold October 15th. The same menu they’d planned 4 years ago. The same flowers. The same everything. He’d kept their entire wedding frozen in time, waiting for her to come back.

My sister and I worked until 3:00 in the morning. We made copies of everything. We organized it into folders. She labeled them with her neat handwriting: “Evidence,” “Financial,” “Communications,” “Timeline.” By the time we finished, the sun was starting to come up. I felt hollowed out, like someone had scooped out my insides and left just the shell.

My sister made coffee, and we sat at the kitchen table, not talking. The house felt different now. It didn’t feel like mine anymore. Maybe it never had been.

The next morning, I called my boss. My voice kept breaking while I explained I needed a personal week. I said there was a family emergency. She asked if everything was okay, and I said it would be. That felt like a lie, but I said it anyway. She told me to take the time I needed and not to worry about work.

An hour later, my phone rang. It was Saki from work. She said my boss mentioned I sounded upset. I tried to explain and ended up crying so hard I couldn’t get words out. Saki waited on the line until I could breathe again. Then I told her everything: the anniversary dinner, Lucas, the “temporary one,” the apartments, the money, the wedding venue, the emails, all of it.

She listened without interrupting. When I finished, she said I could stay at her place for as long as I needed. She said she and Dominic had a guest room and I should pack a bag and come over today. I started packing right after we hung up.

My sister helped me sort through the closet, figuring out what was mine versus what David had bought me. She made lists. She took photos of everything in the house. She treated the whole thing like a military operation, which helped me focus on tasks instead of feelings. I pulled clothes off hangers and folded them into boxes. I packed shoes and jewelry and books. I took photos off the wall that my parents had given me. I left the wedding photos.

David called six times that morning. I watched my phone light up with his name and didn’t answer. He finally sent a text. It said we needed to discuss this like adults. It said he thought I was overreacting. I took a screenshot and sent it to my sister. She responded with angry face emojis. Then she texted back asking if David actually thought finding out about his secret divorce plan was an overreaction. I didn’t have an answer.

At noon, Saki and Dominic showed up with their SUV. Dominic took one look at my face and gave me a hug without saying anything. Then he started loading boxes. He and my sister worked together carrying stuff down the stairs. Saki stayed with me in the bedroom helping me pack the last of my things. She asked if I was sure I wanted to leave, and I said I’d never been more sure of anything.

Having people who just helped without needing explanations made me cry again. Saki handed me tissues and kept folding clothes. Dominic made three trips to the car. My sister labeled every box. We worked together like a team, and by 1:00 in the afternoon, everything I owned was loaded in their SUV.