Every First Saturday of the Month, My Husband Vanishes for a Few Hours — When I Followed Him Once, I Couldn’t Look at Our Marriage the Same Way
I thought I knew who I married. I trusted him completely and blindly until he began vanishing on the first Saturday of each month. Curiosity got the best of me, so I followed him one rainy Saturday and discovered a secret I haven’t had the nerve to reveal.
When Jeremy strolled into that packed bookshop café three years ago, coffee streaming from his drenched jacket after running into me, I had no idea I’d be sitting here today, wondering everything about the man I married.
He bungled with napkins and apologized profusely, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. That clumsy encounter felt like destiny then.
“I’m so sorry… let me buy you another latte,” he said.
“Only if you promise not to spill this one too!” I laughed.
The early days were magical.
Jeremy would surprise me with handwritten messages slipped into my work bag, slow dance with me in our little kitchen while dinner cooked on the stove, and hug me tight during thunderstorms because he knew they made me nervous.
He was everything I’d hoped for: kind, gentle, and the type of man who remembered my favorite flowers and brought me chamomile tea when I couldn’t sleep.
After a whirlwind year of dating, he proposed on the same corner where we first met, carrying a ring he had saved months for. Our wedding was small but wonderful, with only our closest family and friends present to witness us make a lifetime commitment to each other.
Two years of marriage passed by in a blur of shared hopes and whispered ambitions.
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