After 28 years of marriage, Valentine’s Day was just another day—until I saw my car covered in paper hearts. At first, I thought Brandon, my husband, had finally surprised me. But when I pulled a heart off, my stomach dropped.
“Your husband is a liar.”
“He was with me last night.”
“He’ll never choose you.”
I tore them away in a panic, only to see Brandon watching from the window. Inside, he shrugged it off as a prank. But I checked our security footage—and there she was. Linda, our neighbor, plastering the notes onto my car at 3 a.m.
I stormed to her house. When she opened the door, she was already crying.
“How long?” I asked.
“Twenty years.”
She claimed Brandon had promised to leave me, saying I wasn’t well enough for divorce. She had proof—texts, photos, voicemails. I confronted Brandon, who swore she was obsessed with him.
I demanded proof. Linda handed me her phone. My heart shattered. The next morning, I filed for divorce.
But then, everything unraveled. Brandon’s lawyers exposed inconsistencies—AI-generated messages, altered videos, fabricated evidence. Linda had spent 20 years believing in a lie she created herself.
That night, I whispered, “I should have believed you.”
Brandon squeezed my hand. “I love you. I always have.”
We sued Linda, got a restraining order, and moved forward. She had been waiting for something that never existed.
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