My Husband Sent Valentine’s Roses to His Three Women—And We Ruined Him Together

The entire drive was unnervingly quiet. The only sound was the GPS giving directions in its flat, robotic voice. I sat in the passenger seat with the bouquet that had never been meant for me still in my lap. Amy suddenly broke the silence. "How long have you two been married?" "Seven years." Her hands tightened around the steering wheel until her knuckles went white. "Seven years…" "I've been with him for four." "He told me his last marriage was already over. Said they were just finalizing the paperwork." "He said he didn't want to drag me into the legal mess, so we had to keep things quiet for a while." She drew in a sharp breath, her voice going cold. "He proposed to me, too." My throat tightened. "When?" "Three winters ago. We were skiing in Aspen." My mind went blank. Three winters ago, I'd just come out of emergency surgery after losing my baby. I'd been almost seven months along. The night before, Jack and I had gotten into a horrible fight. In the middle of the night, I started hemorrhaging, and a neighbor drove me to the hospital. They couldn't save the baby. They almost couldn't save me. I called Jack over and over, but his phone was off. Later, he told me casually that he'd been meeting a client out of state and had lost reception in the mountains. So that's where he'd really been. Proposing to another woman. Amy noticed something in my face. "What is it?" I turned toward the window, watching rows of bare trees blur past. "Nothing." I swallowed. "I just figured something out." The car pulled up in front of an upscale villa. "You know what the most pathetic part is?" Amy said suddenly. "He sends me money every month. Tells me he doesn't want me working too hard, tells me to buy whatever I want." "I actually thought that was love." I turned to her. "How much?" "Five thousand a month. Sometimes more." The second she said it, something clicked. She looked at me. "How much does he give you?" I was quiet for a moment. "I don't even have my own card." "For seven years, I've had an authorized-user card with a low weekly limit. Just enough to cover basic expenses." Amy looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Then she got out and rang the doorbell. The door opened almost immediately. A very young woman stood there in a cream-colored knit dress, the fabric stretched taut over her pregnant belly. She looked at us, puzzled. "Can I help you?" Neither Amy nor I had expected the third woman to be pregnant. Amy recovered first. She held up the florist bag. "Hi, ma'am. We're from the flower shop. There was a mix-up with our system today because of the holiday rush." "This arrangement is one of our premium orders, so we wanted to make sure it was delivered properly." The young woman smiled right away. "Oh, of course. Thank you so much for coming all the way out here." "Please, come in." Amy and I exchanged a look before following her inside. The house was warm. There was a faint scent of baby lotion in the air. An assembled crib stood in the living room, and unopened baby gifts were stacked against the wall. On the mantel sat a photograph. Jack had his arm around the woman, both of them on a beach, beaming like a happy couple. She rested a hand on her belly, her face lit with the soft, tired glow of late pregnancy. "My husband is so thoughtful," she said with a smile. "He knows how much I love flowers." Amy stared at the picture, her expression almost frightening. I spoke softly. "How long have you and your husband been… married?" Emma looked a little shy. "We haven't officially registered yet." "But we had an engagement ceremony last fall. He said we'd handle the paperwork after the baby was born." Neither Amy nor I said anything. Emma didn't notice anything off. "He's so good to me," she went on cheerfully. "He hates the idea of me being home alone, so lately he's been turning down work whenever he can to be here with me." "His mom's coming to stay for a few days, too. She takes such good care of me." Jack's mother flashed through my mind instantly. Last winter, she had moved into my apartment for four months, claiming her heart condition made it unsafe for her to live alone. I'd worked part-time as an online customer service rep while catering to her every need. And through all of it, I'd put up with her contempt. Now she was coming here to dote on another woman carrying her grandson. Emma walked over to the coffee table and picked up her phone. "Would you mind swapping numbers? Once the baby comes, I might want to order more flowers or desserts." Amy glanced at me. Then she took out her phone. We had barely exchanged numbers when a man's voice drifted out from the bedroom. "Emma? Was that the florist?" I knew that voice better than my own. Jack. Amy's face changed in an instant. She started toward the bedroom, but I grabbed her wrist. "Let's go." Her head snapped toward me, fury blazing in her eyes. "Are you out of your mind? If we don't call him out now, then when?" I tightened my grip. "She's about to give birth." Amy clenched her jaw. She was breathing hard. In the end, I dragged her out of the house. The moment the door shut behind us, I heard Emma call cheerfully from inside, "It's fine. The flower shop people just left."

The second we got back in the car, Amy slammed her fist against the steering wheel. "Shit!" Her eyes were red. Her voice trembled. "He has a kid with her!" I leaned back against the seat. My fingers were freezing, and inside I felt numb. Amy turned to me, shaking with rage. "Why the hell did you stop me?" "A guy like that deserves to have his face ripped off right there on the spot!" I was quiet for a long moment. Then I said softly, "I know how much childbirth hurts." The car fell silent. A few seconds later, Amy slowly turned her head. "What do you mean?" I stared through the windshield at the gray sky. "Three years ago, I was pregnant, too." "I started hemorrhaging at seven months." "The baby didn't make it." Amy froze. "Where was Jack?" "Three winters ago." "With you." She sank back into her seat and closed her eyes. After a long silence, she muttered, "That fucking bastard." She pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse. She took one out, glanced at me, then slid it back in. "Claire." Her voice softened. "How has he treated you all these years?" "Before Jack started his company, he didn't have much." "My family didn't want me to marry him, but I did anyway." "Later on, my parents came around and gave me money from a trust so we could get on our feet." "Jack said he wanted to start a business, so I handed the money over to him." "Once the company took off, he told me it'd be simpler for taxes and legal protection if everything stayed under the company's name or his." "He said I wouldn't understand any of it." "That he didn't want me stressing about it." Amy let out a bitter laugh. "And you bought that?" "I did." Because back then, I really loved him. I'd loved him enough to believe marriage meant carrying every burden together. I'd loved him enough to believe all his promises would come true in time. But seven years had gone by. I was still living in the same rundown apartment. The furniture was old. Mold crept along the corners. The heat worked whenever it felt like it. Amy was quiet for a moment. Then she opened her photo gallery and handed me her phone. "He bought me all of this." She swiped through photo after photo. Designer handbags. Jewelry. A penthouse. My eyes stung as I looked at them. Jack had never bought me a single gift. He always said people who were genuinely close didn't need flashy things just for show. Now I got it. It wasn't that he didn't want to spend money. He just didn't want to spend it on me. Amy took her phone back. "If any of this counts as marital property, I'll cooperate." "If it belongs to you, I'm not going to fight you for it." I watched the traffic light ahead turn red. "None of this is your fault," I said quietly. Eventually, she pulled up outside my old apartment building. I opened the door and saw the living room lights on. Jack was sitting on the couch. The moment he saw me, he stood up with that warm, familiar smile I'd loved for years. "Happy Valentine's Day, babe."

He walked over and took my purse from me, as natural as ever. Then he glanced at the roses. "You got the flowers?" "Do you like them?" The man I'd loved for years suddenly looked like a total stranger. How had he pulled it off? How had he played the devoted boyfriend to three different women without ever slipping up? "They're beautiful," I said. Jack visibly relaxed. He reached for me. I calmly stepped aside and set the flowers on the dining table. "So what made you decide to send me flowers all of a sudden?" He smiled and went into the kitchen to pour me a glass of water. "After all these years, I can't keep letting you tell people I don't know how to be romantic." He handed me the glass. The water was cool, just the way I liked it. If I hadn't seen everything with my own eyes that day, I probably would've fallen for that little display of tenderness all over again. Jack sat down across from me, looking worn out. "By the way, I have to head to Boston tomorrow for a few days." "Urgent project." He'd always claimed he was traveling for work. Sometimes he'd be gone a week. Sometimes two. I'd never questioned him. Now I realized those so-called business trips had been his excuse to visit another woman. "How long?" I asked. "Not sure. A week, maybe two." He tapped something on his phone. A bank notification popped up on mine almost immediately. Your authorized-user card limit has been increased for this week. Jack smiled at me. "I bumped it up a little this month." "Buy yourself a nice dress. You never spend anything on yourself." I looked at the number. Two hundred dollars. One of Amy's handbags cost five thousand. Emma's engagement ring had to be worth at least twenty grand. And I was the wife who was supposed to feel grateful for an extra two hundred bucks. I set my phone facedown on the table and looked at him. "Jack." "I want a divorce." His expression froze. A few seconds passed before he stared at me like he hadn't heard me right. "What did you just say?" "I said I want a divorce." Jack immediately stood up and came over. He crouched down in front of me, gripping both my shoulders. "Claire, is this because I've been too busy lately?" "Have I been neglecting you?" "I know I'm always working, I know I'm always out with clients, but I'm doing all of it for us." His eyes filled as he looked up at me. "You know how hard I worked to get where I am." "Everyone sees what I have now, but nobody remembers you were the one standing beside me when I was building that company out of a basement." I watched the performance without saying a word. Then I asked softly, "Jack, do you really not know why I want a divorce?" His mouth opened. Before he could get anything out, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Something flickered across his face. "Claire, it's an emergency from work. I have to take this." He stood and hurried out onto the balcony with his phone. Through the glass door, I watched him lower his voice. His face was tight with anxiety. Seconds later, he came back in, grabbed his coat, and headed for the door. "Something came up with the project. I need to handle it right now." "And don't bring up divorce again." "We'll talk about this when I get back." The door slammed behind him. The apartment fell silent at last. I stared at the red roses on the table. Then I laughed. Because I'd heard the voice on the other end of that call. It was Emma. She was crying. She said she was having severe stomach pains.