I went to my husband’s office party for the first time, and I never expected to see his other ‘wife’ there…

Jennifer was intrigued when she saw an email inviting her husband to a lavish New Year’s party with a plus one. However, what she discovered on the occasion broke her faith, paving the way for an unforeseen twist of fate.

The laptop pinged, disrupting the movie we were viewing. Oliver had just gone to the restroom and left his laptop open on the coffee table.

I looked at the computer, and the bright topic line caught my eye.

“Dear Mr. Oliver.

We are excited to announce that the New Year’s celebration is coming soon! Dress code: White Party. You may bring a companion (your wife). Address…”

I blinked while reviewing the email. His employer did not accept plus-ones. Never. I couldn’t count how many times I’d heard him whine about it. However, there it was in black and white—plus one (your wife).

I attempted to remain calm when Oliver returned despite my growing interest. “Your office is throwing a New Year’s party?” I asked casually.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, picking up his laptop and closing it before I could respond. “It’s nothing significant. It’s just the typical end-of-year activities.”

“Can I come?” I inquired, bending my head and smiling.

He froze for a half-second before pushing it aside. “No, they do not allow guests.” It’s more of a work event.”

I frowned. “But the email stated—”

“They don’t, Jennifer.” Trust me.” His tone was harsh, and he did not look at me. “Anyway, I’ll only be working that night. “Not a big deal.”

That was the first time I experienced something unusual. Oliver usually worked late or traveled for business, so I’d become accustomed to his absence. I trusted him because that is what married people do. However, this time, his answer felt odd.

New Year’s Eve had arrived, and I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my white outfit. Curiosity had been gnawing at me for days. Why didn’t he want me at the party? Was he embarrassed? Are you hiding something?

“Happy New Year, Jen!” he cried, grabbing his coat and kissing my cheek.

“Happy New Year,” I said, watching him depart.

As soon as the door clicked shut, I grabbed my handbag and went outside.

At night, the hotel that hosted the celebration gleamed like a diamond. Silver streamers, glittering lights, and exquisite floral arrangements adorned the foyer. Guests in gleaming white attire interact, with laughing and discussion filling the air. As I approached the reception counter, I felt frightened yet resolute.

“Name, please?” The manager looked up from his paperwork with a courteous grin.

“Jennifer, I’m Oliver’s wife,” I firmly announced.

His smile faded for a second, and he looked down at his list before returning his gaze to me. Then he laughed. “Nice try!”

“I’m Jennifer,” I said again. “Oliver’s wife.”

The manager’s expression became uneasy. “Oh… uh…” He hesitated and then cleared his throat. “I believe there has been some miscommunication. Oliver has already checked in with his plus one. “His real wife.”

My chest clenched. “What?”

“Yes, he arrived about half an hour ago.” They usually appear together, and I’ve seen them several times. He winced slightly, as if anticipating my reaction.

“I’m his wife,” I blurted firmly, the words weighing on my tongue.

He opened his lips to respond but closed them again, his expression remorseful. “Let me double-check the guest list.”

Before he could move, I spotted Oliver at the far corner of the room. He was easily identifiable in his pristine white suit. My breath caught as I saw him with her—a woman with long black hair who rested her arm on his shoulder. They were laughing, leaning very close, and their body language was clearly personal.

The world appeared to swirl. My mind raced, and the sparkling decorations became blurry.

“Ma’am?” the manager inquired kindly, interrupting my thoughts.

I returned to him, my voice suddenly calm. “There’s no need to check,” I said. “I see him.”

He hesitated, as if he wanted to say something, but I had already moved away from the desk, the party, and Oliver.

Outside, the chilly air seared my face, yet it did not quench the fire that burned within me. I tightened my cloak about me, my heels clicking on the sidewalk as I walked to my car.

Not knowing what to do, I knew Oliver would be sorry.

The next morning, the phone rang just as I was pouring my coffee. I nearly didn’t respond since I was still upset from the night before, but something compelled me to.

“Is this Mr. Oliver’s wife?” a calm, professional voice said.

“Yes,” I said, my gut tightening.

“This is Mercy Hospital.” Your spouse was involved in an automobile accident early this morning. “He is stable, but we need you to come in right away.”

My breath caught. “Is there a vehicle accident? Is he… Is he okay?

“He suffered a concussion and a fractured arm. There are several issues that we will discuss when you arrive.

I didn’t utter another word. I grabbed my coat and dashed out the door, my fury from the night before mingled with concern.

An antiseptic stench assaulted me as I entered the hospital waiting room. Nurses walked by, their expressions placid, as I stood there, my heart beating.

“Jennifer?” a doctor asked, approaching me. He was middle-aged, with a kind yet serious countenance.

“Yes. Is Oliver alright?”

“He’s stable for the time being, but there’s something we need to discuss,” he continued, motioning for me to sit. His arm has numerous fractures. There is a possibility of long-term harm unless we act quickly. Regrettably, a problem has arisen with his insurance. His coverage expired last month. You, as his wife, can authorize the treatment and make arrangements for payment.”

I blinked, attempting to grasp his words. “Has his insurance lapsed?” Why didn’t he renew?

The doctor shakes his head. “I can’t comment on it, but we need to move immediately.”

When I entered Oliver’s room, the sight of him surprised me. His face was pallid, and he had a bandage around his head. His arm was in a sling, and he appeared more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.I blinked, attempting to grasp his words. “Has his insurance lapsed?” Why didn’t he renew?

The doctor shakes his head. “I can’t comment on it, but we need to move immediately.”

When I entered Oliver’s room, the sight of him surprised me. His face was pallid, and he had a bandage around his head. His arm was in a sling, and he appeared more vulnerable than I had ever seen him.

“Jen,” he croaked when he spotted me, his voice thin.

“Oliver,” I responded stiffly, standing at the entrance.

His eyes probed mine, imploring. “I understand you’re upset, but please listen.” It’s not as you think.”

“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” I answered, my voice chilly. “You have lied to me. You have been lying to me. Last night, I caught you with her. “Did you bring her to that party?”

His face turned pallid. “I can explain—”

“I don’t want your explanations,” I said abruptly, cutting him off. “The doctor says you need surgery, but your insurance has expired. That sounds like an issue for your real wife to solve.”

“Jen, don’t do this,” he said softly, his voice breaking. I made a mistake. Please sign the paperwork.”

I gazed at him for a long time, my heart racing. Part of me wanted to yell, weep, and aid him. But then I remembered how many times I had believed him just to discover it was all a lie.

“No, Oliver,” I said, my voice strong. “You’ve made your choice. “Now you can live with them.”

I turned and left the room without looking back.

My steps in the corridor felt lighter, as if a weight had lifted from my chest. For the first time in years, I realized I didn’t have to clean up his mistakes.

It was over. What occurred next was entirely up to him.

A few days later, I got a call from the hospital. It was not the doctor. It was Oliver.

“Jen, please,” he implored. His voice was raspy and almost indistinguishable. “She did not arrive. I am alone here. “I need you.”

I said nothing, clutching the phone tightly as his words soaked in. The “real wife” turned out not to be so real after all. She had not turned up for anything, even the procedure. She’d vanished the instant she discovered he wasn’t who he claimed to be.

“Jen?” he whispered.

“You made your choice, Oliver,” I continued, my tone firm. “Now you can deal with the consequences.”

I hung up and blocked his phone.

In the weeks that followed, I learned through common friends that Oliver’s career was failing. The news of his romance circulated at work. He no longer appeared with the lady he had displayed at the party, and his charisma no longer seemed to deceive anyone.

However, I did not feel sorry for him. I felt liberated.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel the weight of his falsehoods. Instead of thinking about his needs, I concentrated on myself.

I signed up for a pottery class, a foolish ambition I had been putting off for years. I spent weekends exploring paths that I had always wanted to discover. I started painting again, decorating my flat with colorful canvases.

For years, I, Jennifer, had been a devoted wife. Jen was now controlling her own life.