I met my husband, Mike, only eight months ago, and we got married just two months ago. It was a whirlwind romance that seemed perfect at the time.

So, for his birthday, I wanted to throw a big party.

“Are you sure, babe?” Mike asked, looking at me with those big brown eyes that first captivated me.

“Yes, darling,” I said. “I want to throw you a big birthday party. It’s our first year of birthdays as a married couple,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

My husband sighed.

“I really appreciate it, love,” he said. “But I prefer a small celebration. Just family, you know?”

I forced a smile.

“Okay, if that’s what you want,” I said.

So, we celebrated his birthday with a quiet family dinner. It was intimate, with just Mike’s parents and siblings. But even so, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

“Why do you and Jeff keep whispering and laughing to yourselves?” I asked Mike when I served the snacks.

“Oh, nothing, Lisa,” my husband said. “Just brother things. Inside jokes and all that.”

“I think we should serve dinner now,” Mike said, making me go to the kitchen and get all the food platters.

All seemed fine, but then a few days later, something changed.

“I’m going to be going on a business trip, Lisa,” he said, flipping through his section of the closet.

“On a weekend?” I asked. “How long will you be gone for?”

“Not long,” my husband replied. “I should be back on Monday.”

“So, it’s local?” I asked, trying to understand why everything was so sudden.

“Um… yes. But we’re staying in a hotel for the duration of the conference.”

“Is it a conference or a business trip?” I asked, taking some of Mike’s clothes out and folding them away to be packed into the suitcase he had taken from our spare bedroom.

Mike left early the next morning. He stopped to kiss me and then bolted out the door without a second glance.

“Enjoy your weekend, too,” I said to myself grumpily as I made myself some toast and jam.

As I was eating, I decided to take the day for myself. I wanted to give myself a pamper session and do my own hair and nails.

But later in the day, as I began to tidy the house, I stumbled upon my husband’s iPad on the coffee table.

Just as I wiped the surface, a message tone played and a text popped up.

Hey, Big Mike! Angie and I are on our way to your party! Can you just drop me the location to the dance club?

My heart pounded.

“A party? Without me?” I muttered. I called Mike’s mother, hoping for some sort of clarity.

“Hi, Linda,” I asked the moment she answered the phone. “Do you know anything about a party that Mike is having today?”

There was a long pause, and I could hear Linda shuffling in the background.

“Well, dear, he might have mentioned something to Jeff,” she said. “You know my sons, the brothers are always doing something or other together.”

“Well, why wasn’t I invited?” I asked, my voice shaking with uncertainty.

I had wondered whether Mike and I had gotten too close too quickly. As much as I knew that I loved him, I didn’t know how much he loved me.

“It’s a sense of infatuation, Lisa,” my mother had told me.

She was against our marriage from the first.

“You’re both young,” she insisted when she summoned me to her house for coffee one evening. “If you wait a little longer, I’ll give you my wedding dress and grandma’s jewelry for your day.”

“But, we both want to get married now,” I said, dipping a biscuit into my mug.

“It’s not going to last, my girl,” my mother said. “Just be warned.”

Linda hesitated.

“He’s embarrassed by your scar, darling,” she said.

Of course, Mike was embarrassed by me.

And as for my scar? That was something I had gotten when I was horse riding years ago. My horse had been startled by some sound or the other and had taken me off course, resulting in a low-hanging branch attacking my face.

“Thanks, Linda,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

I felt like I had been punched right in the gut. Mike had always assured me that my scar didn’t matter, but clearly, it did to him.

“It’s a story about your life,” he said, touching my scar.

I decided I wouldn’t let this slide.

No. I was going to teach him a lesson.

I went back to Mike’s iPad and read his reply to his friend, accessing the location that Mike had dropped.

When I saw the location, my jaw dropped.

My husband was at a club with his friends. And according to the internet, it had revealing dancers as the entertainment.

“Oh, Mike,” I said to myself as I dug into my closet for my gold bikini. “You’re going to regret all of this.”

Before going to the club, I stopped at the party store, picking up a sequined mask that would hide my scar nicely.

I planned on dancing my way around my husband and his friends. If he was embarrassed by me, I’d make sure that everyone saw what he was missing.

Arriving at the venue, the music was loud, the lights were dim, and raucous laughter echoed everywhere.

I slipped into the restroom, where I just needed to change my shoes and slip my dress off. My gold bikini was on underneath.

I fluffed out my hair and put on the mask. With a deep breath, I stepped into the party.

All eyes turned to me as I walked through the crowd, trying to find the table where Mike and his friends were.

They were sitting in a corner booth, the table full of bottles of alcohol and cigarette butts.

“It’s time, Lisa,” I said under my breath. “Commit to it.”

When a new song started, I began to dance. Each move was filled with the anger and hurt I had bottled up. I danced with such grace and passion that I could feel all eyes were on me.

Mike’s eyes widened in astonishment.

As the dance ended, applause erupted.

My husband walked up to me, his hand resting on my lower back as he stopped next to me.

“Who are you?” he asked. “Take off the mask. Show me who you are.”

I shook my head, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“Please,” he insisted. “Whatever your face looks like, I’m sure it doesn’t matter. You are beautiful as you are. Take off the mask, honey.”

And I did.

I slowly removed my mask. Gasps echoed around the table as my scarred face was revealed.

“Lisa!” Mike exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”

I looked directly at him, holding back tears.

“If I’m so beautiful, then why were you ashamed to invite me to this?” I asked, my voice steady but filled with hurt.

Mike stared at me, speechless.

“I can’t be with someone who is ashamed of me,” I said firmly. “Maybe we should call it quits and get divorced.”

“Lisa, I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Mike stammered.

“But you did. You lied to me, to your friends, to everyone here. How can we build a life on lies?”

Mike opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“This marriage is over,” I declared. “I’m going home to pack your things.”

My husband nodded his head stiffly.

Without another word, I walked out, leaving Mike and his stunned friends behind.

But instead of driving home, I drove to my friend Anna’s house. I needed some comfort. And I needed to vent.

“So, he was there with a bunch of his friends?” Anna gasped, pouring me some wine.

“Yes,” I replied, helping myself to the bowl of pretzels Anna had given me.

“I’m proud of you for showing up and doing the right thing for yourself,” she said, wrapping me in a hug. “I know that you loved the possibility of a life with Mike, but he’s just very wrong for you.”

“I agree,” I replied. “And if I didn’t find out this time, then it was bound to come up again.”

And that’s true. I knew that if I hadn’t discovered Mike’s tendencies now, then it would have happened over the years we were yet to spend together.

And I didn’t think that I could handle that sort of behavior. Not from the person who claimed to love me.

“Now it’s time to move on and find real happiness,” I said to Anna as I left her home.