The restaurant was alive with laughter, the glow of candles flickering across polished glasses. Friends and family filled the long table, raising their drinks in celebration of our ten-year anniversary. I wore the dress Daniel once said made me unforgettable. He had planned the whole night, every detail wrapped in romance, or so I thought.
Halfway through dinner, he stood, tapping his glass for attention. “I want to do something special,” he announced, his smile charming, practiced. “This song is for the person who means the most to me.”
The room hushed. My heart swelled. This was it—the moment he’d remind everyone that what we had was unshakable.
The music started. A familiar song, slow and aching, the kind we’d never danced to together but I had heard before. I frowned, trying to place it. And then I saw her.
Sophia. Sitting three seats down, her eyes wide, shimmering with tears.
Because the song wasn’t ours. It was theirs.
I knew it instantly from the way she clutched her chest, the way Daniel’s gaze lingered on her instead of me. Every lyric cut through me like glass, each note dripping with intimacy I had never shared with him.
Whispers rippled across the table. My sister’s fork clattered against her plate. My best friend mouthed, “Oh my God.”
I stared at Daniel, my hands trembling in my lap. “This is our anniversary,” I hissed under my breath when he leaned closer. “Why would you choose this?”
He faltered, his smile slipping, but his eyes flicked back to Sophia, betraying him again.
Tears stung my eyes as I shoved my chair back. “Stop the music,” I said, my voice breaking, loud enough for everyone to hear. “This song isn’t for me.”
The room fell silent. Daniel’s face drained of color, his mouth opening and closing with no excuses that could save him. Sophia’s cheeks flushed as she tried to hide her face, but it was too late. Everyone had seen.
My anniversary party had turned into my humiliation. The love song I thought was mine belonged to someone else, and my husband had played it like a confession in front of everyone we knew.
Final Thought
Anniversaries are supposed to honor love. Mine revealed betrayal wrapped in melody. His song dedication wasn’t a celebration of us—it was a love letter to her, and the echo of it will haunt me long after the music fades.
