I grew up in a home where anniversaries were important and had to be celebrated. It was just something that my parents always paid extra attention to.

My mother would bake a cake every year on their anniversary, even if my father had dinner plans for them.

“It’s important to celebrate a marriage, Leighton,” my mother would say.

And she would usually be decorating the cake at this point.

“I mean, you’ll understand it one day,” she said. “But married life is difficult, and that’s why you have to celebrate making it another year.”

Since then, I knew that if I ever got married, wedding anniversaries would be a big deal.

And then I met Josh, who seemed to understand the importance of it — or at least, the sentimentality of it all.

So, the other day was our sixth anniversary, and because it was the middle of the week, there just wasn’t going to be enough time to plan something intimate at home.

A dinner out was going to be our best option.

“It’s not a bad idea, Leighton,” Josh said when I told him that we had to settle on that.

“It’s much easier, anyway,” I said, thinking about the fuss of getting home and having to cook an elaborate dinner after a long day at the office.

The weekend before our anniversary, I went shopping and got Josh a new set of ties — my husband was into his tie collection and was always looking to add to it.

Then, on the day, I arranged to pick Josh up from work, excited for our romantic dinner at our favorite restaurant.

I left work a little earlier than usual and parked across the road from Josh’s building, waiting for him to leave work. I sat in the car, reapplying my lipstick and sorting my hair out. I sang along to the radio and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Josh still hadn’t come out. I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer either.

Eventually, I sent him a text:

Hey, honey! I’m waiting outside — I’m parked across the flower shop.

Not even a minute later, my phone pinged with a text message notification.

Caught up in a meeting, don’t wait for me. I’ll see you at home.

My heart sank. I understood the importance of work — especially because Josh loved his job, and he always brought work home, often going through spreadsheets in bed at night.

I was disappointed, I mean, it was our special day. But I knew that these things were sometimes beyond our control. I picked up my phone to reply before driving off.

Sure, see you later.

Starting the car, I could only think about sinking my teeth into a sugary donut.

“You can’t keep eating your feelings,” I told myself. “But today calls for it.”

Just then, I saw Josh push open the building door, his briefcase at his side, and his phone in his hand.

He walked briskly to an unfamiliar car and slid in — not even glancing to see if I was around.

Moments ago, I could imagine eating a donut, now I could only taste confusion and betrayal thick on my tongue.

Of course, I followed him. I needed to know who was driving the car and where they were headed.

I needed to know who my husband would rather spend our anniversary with if not me.

I followed the car for about fifteen minutes before it started to slow down — we were just outside of town now. There were fewer buildings around, and it was quieter. If anything, the air seemed lighter and fresh.

“What are you up to, Josh?” I asked the silence around me.

Eventually, the car led me to a decrepit motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched, hidden by the shadows, as my husband got out of the car. Moments later, another man stepped out of the car.

He was also in a suit, holding onto a stack of paperwork. But he walked in another direction — to the motel office, it seemed.

Josh, on the other hand, walked straight up to a room. He knocked once, opened the door, and disappeared into a room.

I couldn’t sit back any longer. My feet moved on their own accord across the street, and there I was, outside the door that was slightly ajar.

A murmur of voices seeped out, spilling onto the pavement.

Pushing the door open, my eyes landed on a scene that knocked the wind out of me.

There was Josh, sitting at a little table, surrounded by paperwork. Directly across from him was a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman, it was Sophia — Josh’s first love.

I couldn’t understand what was happening. It was our anniversary, and Josh was here, in a run-down motel with the first woman he had loved.

It made no sense, but at the same time, a story seemed to be unfolding.

“Happy anniversary,” I said, the words laced with bitterness.

My husband leaped up, his face full of shock and his mouth hanging open.

“Leighton,” he said. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Sophia, her face flushed with surprise, began gathering the papers.

“Then what is it?” I asked. “You skipped dinner for whatever this is.”

My voice broke, teetering on the edge of anger and sorrow.

“No, Leighton, listen,” Sophia interjected, her voice calm, trying to soothe the storm.

“What are those papers for?” I asked.

I couldn’t see what they were, but my mind was convinced that they were divorce papers. Why else would my husband be sitting in a motel room with another woman?

“Darling,” Josh said, taking a step toward me. “We’re planning to buy this motel.”

“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised by the turn of events.

“We thought that it would make a perfect business venture,” Sophia said. “This isn’t about me, Leighton. I just have the contacts to help it happen. The man who drove Josh here is my husband. He’s sorting out the final paperwork with the owner, who happens to be his brother-in-law.”

My husband nodded earnestly, adding, “I wanted this to be our new start, something that you and I could build together. To create a legacy for ourselves. This was supposed to be official last week, but there was a delay with the owner.”

“We only had this evening to sign everything,” Sophia chirped in.

The room was thick with tension as I processed their words.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” my voice softened as my heart rate slowed down.

Sophia looked from Josh to me and back to the pile of paperwork. She helped herself to a piece of candy from the dish in front of her.

“I thought keeping it a surprise until everything was set would be… I don’t know, more special?” he said.

He looked down at the dirty carpet beneath our feet.

“So, what now?” I asked, looking at my watch.

“The moment my husband gets back with the signed documents, Josh can sign, and we’ll be done here,” Sophia said, picking up her handbag.

“Have a seat,” Josh said, pulling out a chair for me. “The moment I sign, we can get out of here.”

Sophia excused herself, claiming that she wanted to check out the vending machine because she was starving.

“You really just wanted this to be a surprise?” I asked Josh.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been looking into property for a while now. I want it to be our safety net in terms of finances.”

We sat together and spoke for a little while longer before Sophia and her husband came in, carrying the stack of paperwork that I had seen him holding earlier.

“Almost done now,” Sophia said, handing Josh a pen.

A little while later, we were in my car, with Josh driving us home.

“I know it’s late, and that we have missed our reservation,” he said. “But let’s get some dinner anyway.”

We went to a diner not too far away from our home.

“No more secrets, Josh,” I said as our food arrived.

“I promise,” he said, reaching for my hand across the table, his eyes earnest.

As we drove home, I realized that although the night had not gone as planned, perhaps it needed to have been that way. With a promise renewed and a future venture to embark on together.

But as Josh showered that evening, I pulled out the anniversary cake that I had gotten the day before. As it had been my parents’ tradition, I wanted it to become ours.

I surprised Josh with the cake as he was getting into bed.

“This is better than a fancy dinner,” he said.

After seeing the motel, I know that there’s going to be a lot of time and dedication going into it. At least while we try to make it our own.

I have paint swatches and room layouts already planned in my head.

What would you have done?