Saw His Name On Her Thigh, I Divorced

At our fifth wedding anniversary party, my husband's childhood sweetheart, Charlotte Shaw, issued a challenge with a tipsy smirk. "You lost at Truth or Dare, so I dare you to post a photo of the two of us on your i********: with the caption, 'You're always the one I love the most.'" Then she gave my shoulder a condescending pat. "Elena, it's just a game. Don't take it personally." Before I could respond, my five-year-old daughter suddenly pointed at the high slit in Charlotte's dress. "Ms. Shaw, why do you have my daddy's name tattooed on your thigh? And he has your name, 'Charlotte,' tattooed on his chest." A deafening silence fell over the room. My husband, Adrian Pembroke's face drained of color. He clamped a hand over his chest, his voice trembling. "Well, she's just kidding. She doesn't know what she's saying." I ignored his panic and lowered my gaze to my phone. The flight confirmation for the overseas job I had just accepted was still on the screen. I calmly typed a few words. Elena: Widowed, traveling with one daughter. Two tickets, please. Adrian clutched his wineglass, his face flushed as he hurried to explain. "Back in college, I lost a dare and got it tattooed on a whim. Come on, who hasn't been young and stupid?" Yet his hand remained clamped over his chest, hiding the tattoo. Someone awkwardly chimed in that things people had done when they were young should not be taken too seriously. Charlotte seized the opportunity to press herself against Adrian, her voice thick with alcohol. "It's your fault for taking a stupid dare so seriously. I told you the tattoo was just a joke, but you insisted that a loss was a loss. Now look, your wife's going to get the wrong idea." Adrian looked down at her, and some of the tension left his face. In that instant, my thoughts drifted back seven years. I had stood beside Adrian through the darkest days of his startup. Once, he had gone drinking with a client and ended up with a stomach hemorrhage. In the emergency room that night, he had gripped my hand and sworn that no matter what happened, I would always be his priority. I crouched down and smoothed my daughter's crumpled, juice-stained skirt. "Mommy's taking you home." Her tiny fingers wrapped around mine, trembling with unease. "Is Daddy coming?" "Daddy still has a game to finish." I took her hand and led her toward the door. We had barely reached the exit when Adrian came rushing after us. His hand clamped around my wrist like a vise. "Wait." The force of his grip jerked me around. My daughter flinched and hid behind my legs. Only then did Adrian loosen his grip slightly. "You're really going to walk out on me with so many people watching? What do you think people will say?" I stared into his eyes without answering. Adrian looked away, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. "Look, the kid blurted something out, but you didn't have to make a scene. Have her apologize to Charlotte, and we'll put this whole thing behind us." "Did she say anything that wasn't true?" "This isn't about that," he scowled. "She lifted Charlotte's skirt in front of everyone. Do you have any idea how humiliating that was for her?" My daughter immediately protested, "I didn't lift her skirt! Ms. Shaw did it by..." "Don't interrupt." His voice hardened, and he reached out, trying to force her head down. I stepped between them before he could touch her. His hand met empty air, and a look of shock flashed across his face. I looked at his chest, giving our marriage one last chance. "Are you free tomorrow?" His expression softened slightly. "I have a meeting in the morning. I'll take you both for lunch and make up for the anniversary." "Not lunch." My voice was barely above a whisper. "Make an appointment tomorrow and have the tattoo removed." Adrian went still. Through the thin fabric of his shirt, his palm pressed unconsciously over the name "Charlotte", as if he were protecting some secret. Then Charlotte hurried over, her eyes already red. "Elena, if you want the tattoo gone, just have Adrian remove his. I have no right to object." She pressed a hand against her thigh. "But I scar easily. The doctor said removing mine could leave a permanent scar. Don't worry. I'll wear long skirts from now on, so you won't have to see it." Although she was talking about her own tattoo, Adrian immediately stepped in front of her like a shield. "Enough." He glared at me, his expression darkening. "You know she scars easily, and you're using an old tattoo to bully her? Do you really have to make such a scene over this?" "I only asked you to remove yours." "But they're matching tattoos!" Charlotte interrupted with a sob. "If he removes his and I keep mine, people will still talk." Adrian swallowed. Without even turning around, he softened his voice for her. "No one is making you remove it." Then he looked back at me, and every trace of warmth vanished from his eyes. "You're my wife. You have our daughter, our home, money, status, everything. All Charlotte has left is this one little memento from college. Do you really have to take that away from her too?" One by one, I peeled his fingers away from my wrist and rubbed the red marks they had left behind. "Then keep them. Both of you." Adrian froze. I picked up my daughter and walked toward the elevator. Behind me, Adrian let out a cold snort. "Don't expect me to come chasing after you. Maybe it's time you learned that you can't keep threatening to leave just to make me beg." As the elevator doors slid shut, the last thing I saw was Charlotte smoothing Adrian's collar while he made no attempt to stop her. My daughter rested her head on my shoulder, her voice barely a whisper. "Mommy, is Daddy really not coming?" I pressed the Door Close button. "Not this time. We're done waiting for him."