My Dads Best Friend The Man I Shouldnt Want

[NATALIE]

The clinking of silverware and the hum of conversation surround me as I sit at the corner table of our favorite Italian restaurant. It's the eve of our second wedding anniversary, and Michael insisted on dining out, even though I would've preferred a quiet night at home. He's always been the social butterfly, the life of every party, while I'm the grounded one-the devoted wife who treasures our private moments, despite being a budding actress in Hollywood.

I sip my wine, but there's this nagging feeling in the back of my mind that something's off. I made an effort to dress up tonight, slipping into a red silk dress that hugs my curves in all the right places. I look amazing-everyone's eyes linger on me, except for Michael's. He hasn't even looked at me properly, let alone complimented me. 

The ache in my chest deepens. I know our relationship has faltered despite everything I've done to keep it together. The spark that once made him fall head over heels for me has faded. Lately, he's been distant, coming home late with weak excuses about work. He works for my father, so I know exactly what's going on-and his excuses are lies. But I keep giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Even his once tender kisses have become routine, and the desire that used to burn in his eyes is gone. He doesn't buy me flowers anymore - not even tonight, when it feels like a bare minimum for the occasion.

Does he even remember tomorrow's our anniversary?

Deep down, I know something's terribly wrong, but I keep burying my doubts, hoping they're just products of my overthinking. I love this man. He proposed to me in front of a crowded stadium, fearlessly declaring his love. I gave him everything-my heart, my love, my body, my soul. He's my everything.

"The alfredo's amazing," Mike says, his mouth full. I force a smile, but inside, I'm jealous that he compliments the pasta, yet hasn't said a word about me.

"It is," I say, dropping my fork, my appetite suddenly gone. Trying to sound hopeful, I ask, "What are we doing tomorrow? I took the day off."

Mike looks confused. Wiping his mouth with a napkin, he asks, "Why? What's tomorrow?"

I laugh to keep from crying. "Nothing," I murmur, fidgeting with my fingers. "We haven't gone out somewhere recently."

"We're out right now, silly," he says with a shake of his head. "Besides, I have an important meeting tomorrow."

He has to be joking. He's pretending to forget our anniversary because he's planning something huge, right? It has to be that.

"Sure," I mumble, my voice quieter than I intended. Then I get an idea, a way to test him. "I'll ask Meera to hang out with me tomorrow since you're busy."

Surely, he'll object. He'll feel guilty or show some sign he's planning something. But all Mike does is nod. "Sounds good. Do that."

My heart sinks. I want to scream at him, to storm out and never look back. But I remember my mom's words: You have to be patient, and understanding, and learn to make sacrifices for the man you love.

I rot through the next few minutes, watching as he gives more attention to his food than to me. He doesn't even notice I'm not eating. He doesn't care. 

Until his phone starts buzzing, again and again. He tries to ignore it at first, but it's persistent.

"Just give me a moment, love," Mike says, flashing that charming smile as he stands up. "I need to take a quick call."

"Right now? Can't you just turn it off? Is work really more important than us?" I want to ask, but I just nod and watch him weave through the tables, disappearing around the corner.

As the minutes tick by, my anxiety grows. Why hasn't he come back? Did he leave me here? On the eve of our anniversary?

Unable to sit still any longer, I stand up and walk around to clear my head. The warm lighting and rustic charm of the restaurant usually calm me, but tonight, it feels suffocating.

I turn the corner, and my steps falter. There, in the dim hallway, I see him. Mike isn't alone. My breath catches as I watch him pull a beautiful woman into a passionate kiss. They cling to each other like they're the only two people in the world, completely unaware of anything else.