Husband Texts He’s in a Business Meeting & Cancels Our Date—I Saw Him Leaving Work at the Same Time

I grew up in a home where anniversaries were important and had to be celebrated. It was just something that my parents always paid extra attention to.

My mother would bake a cake every year on their anniversary, even if my father had dinner plans for them.

"It's important to celebrate a marriage, Leighton," my mother would say.

And she would usually be decorating the cake at this point.

"I mean, you'll understand it one day," she said. "But married life is difficult, and that's why you have to celebrate making it another year."

Since then, I knew that if I ever got married, wedding anniversaries would be a big deal.

And then I met Josh, who seemed to understand the importance of it — or at least, the sentimentality of it all.

So, the other day was our sixth anniversary, and because it was the middle of the week, there just wasn't going to be enough time to plan something intimate at home.

A dinner out was going to be our best option.

"It's not a bad idea, Leighton," Josh said when I told him that we had to settle on that.

"It's much easier, anyway," I said, thinking about the fuss of getting home and having to cook an elaborate dinner after a long day at the office.

The weekend before our anniversary, I went shopping and got Josh a new set of ties — my husband was into his tie collection and was always looking to add to it.

Then, on the day, I arranged to pick Josh up from work, excited for our romantic dinner at our favorite restaurant.

I left work a little earlier than usual and parked across the road from Josh's building, waiting for him to leave work. I sat in the car, reapplying my lipstick and sorting my hair out. I sang along to the radio and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Josh still hadn't come out. I tried calling him, but he didn't answer either.

Eventually, I sent him a text:

Hey, honey! I'm waiting outside — I'm parked across the flower shop.

Not even a minute later, my phone pinged with a text message notification.

Caught up in a meeting, don't wait for me. I'll see you at home.

My heart sank. I understood the importance of work — especially because Josh loved his job, and he always brought work home, often going through spreadsheets in bed at night.

I was disappointed, I mean, it was our special day. But I knew that these things were sometimes beyond our control. I picked up my phone to reply before driving off.

Sure, see you later.

Starting the car, I could only think about sinking my teeth into a sugary donut.

"You can't keep eating your feelings," I told myself. "But today calls for it."

Just then, I saw Josh push open the building door, his briefcase at his side, and his phone in his hand.

He walked briskly to an unfamiliar car and slid in — not even glancing to see if I was around.

Moments ago, I could imagine eating a donut, now I could only taste confusion and betrayal thick on my tongue.

Of course, I followed him. I needed to know who was driving the car and where they were headed.

I needed to know who my husband would rather spend our anniversary with if not me.

I followed the car for about fifteen minutes before it started to slow down — we were just outside of town now. There were fewer buildings around, and it was quieter. If anything, the air seemed lighter and fresh.

"What are you up to, Josh?" I asked the silence around me.

Eventually, the car led me to a decrepit motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched, hidden by the shadows, as my husband got out of the car. Moments later, another man stepped out of the car.

He was also in a suit, holding onto a stack of paperwork. But he walked in another direction — to the motel office, it seemed.