The night Flynn asked for a divorce, I sensed he was hiding something. But nothing could prepare me for what I discovered when I followed him.
Our marriage had been filled with love and routine—weekends together, late-night talks, and lazy Sundays. But recently, Flynn had grown distant, brushing off my concerns with hollow excuses about work. His coldness and irritability only deepened, and my anxiety grew.
One night, after a confrontation, he finally told me, “I think I want a divorce.” His words hit me like a punch, and the next morning, he left, offering only vague explanations.
Desperate for answers, I found his laptop and discovered intimate messages with someone named “Love.” It wasn’t just a late-night chat; Flynn was having an affair—one I never expected. My heart dropped when I learned the truth: he wasn’t with a woman; he was in love with Benji, his best friend.
I spent days in shock, processing the betrayal. I didn’t need answers anymore; his actions had made everything clear. He hadn’t left because of me, but because he had to find himself. His message asking to meet left me torn, but I agreed.
We met at a park where he admitted he’d been hiding his true feelings. “Benji helped me realize I couldn’t keep pretending,” Flynn said. As much as it hurt, I understood now. He wasn’t leaving because of something I did—he was leaving to be himself.