He Lied About the Photo, I Quit the Shoot

We’d been married for three years before my husband finally agreed to take our belated wedding photos. We sat flipping through the sample shots when something froze my breath. There he was, wrapped around another woman, locked in a kiss. The date stamp read exactly five years ago, today. I smashed my mug against the floor with a loud crash, then ripped the photo out of the album and hurled it straight at his chest. I screamed at him, hysterical, demanding to know who she was. He didn’t even flinch. His face stayed completely blank, and his voice oozed with irritation, "I needed money to get my business off the ground. I did a gig modeling for sample wedding photos." He didn’t bother adding any more explanation. Why would he? I’d always talked myself down, always convinced myself everything was fine. But my phone still had that ugly text message saved, the one calling me a homewrecker. Yvonne Quinn: You’ve been married three years, but you’ve been his mistress for five. How does that feel, huh? I couldn’t lie to myself anymore, that text was the final straw. I lifted my chin, my decision had already been made. "We're not doing this wedding photo shoot anymore. I want a divorce." Lucas furrowed his brows. "What spoiled little fit are you throwing now? I don't have time to humor your drama." The once-bustling photography studio went dead silent in an instant. The receptionist couldn't hide the shock in her face. She'd recognized Lucas Gray the second she saw the photo. For three whole years, Lucas couldn't even carve out one single day to take our wedding photos. But five years ago, he'd already done a full shoot with another woman. Five entire outfit changes, that must've taken him a whole day, right? Yet in that photo, there wasn't a trace of impatience on his face, nothing but giddy, newlywed bliss. A heavy, suffocating knot twisted tight in my chest. I didn't say a single word the entire way down the stairs. It wasn't until we reached the studio's main entrance that Lucas let out an irritated sigh. "Tara, I've got something on today. I can't stay to celebrate our anniversary." My brain was still stuck in a fog, and I didn't even notice when my nails had dug deep into my palms, sharp enough to leave crescent marks. Earlier, when the receptionist was walking me through the sample album, she'd stopped at the page with Lucas and gushed about the couple, "These two were so sweet! He put her high heels on for her by hand, and when they moved between shooting spots, he carried her up and down the stairs because he was worried her feet would hurt." As she talked, a soft, happy smile had crept onto her face without her noticing. But the second she lifted her head and realized the man in the photo was standing right in front of me, her smile melted into awkwardness, and all that was left in her eyes was pity for me. A gust of wind blew a strand of hair into my eyes, yanking me back to the present. I heard my own voice come out, shockingly steady, "Okay. Go take care of your business." I pulled open the passenger door and was just about to slide in when Lucas grabbed my wrist. He paused for a second, then looked away, "I'm going out to meet a client. You can take a cab home yourself." My nose was already inches from the car seat, and the scent hit me clear as day. It was another woman's perfume. He didn't want her to smell my scent on the leather, did he? So thoughtful, so incredibly thorough. Before I could even get a word out, Lucas' phone buzzed to life. He lifted it to his ear, and a soft, warm smile spread across his face so naturally. "Yeah, I'm on my way. Wait for me." He didn't even glance at me before he slid behind the wheel and peeled out of the parking lot. I swiped the hot tears off my cheeks with the back of my hand, pulled out my phone, and booked a ride. The driver recognized me the second I got in. I caught his gaze in the rearview mirror, thick with undisguised envy. "You're Mrs. Gray, right? That epic wedding you had years ago was absolutely insane! The whole city was covered in roses, every news channel was talking about it. The daughter of the Hale family, marrying the rising star of the Manhattan social circle... wow, what a perfect match." He was right. Lucas had chased me first. He had devastatingly handsome good looks and gentle, polished manners. From stepping in to block unwanted drinks at that first gala, to the endless stream of gifts and love letters that showed up at my door, I fell head over heels. I ignored every single warning from my family. I threw myself headlong into marrying this poor boy who'd clawed his way up from nothing. The bet I'd made with my parents? I'd lost it completely, through and through. I let out a sharp, self-mocking laugh. Then I dialed a familiar number. "The three years are up. I agree to the arranged marriage now." Mom's worried voice flooded the line, and I responded to all of her worried questions one by one. "Mom, I need one more favor from you. Could you run a check on all the properties registered under Lucas Gray's name?"