On Our Fifth Anniversary, I Asked for Divorce

On our fifth wedding anniversary, I caught my husband kneeling in the VIP section of the mall, carefully helping his first love slip on a pair of flat shoes.

The woman was five months pregnant, smiling sweetly at my husband.

My hand trembled as I held the tray. The perfume bottle clinked against the glass with a sharp sound.

He whipped around. The moment he recognized me, his smile froze.

"What are you doing here?" He stood up, his tone thick with irritation at being caught.

"Did you forget, Mr. Blackwell? I work here as a sales associate."