It was exactly eight o’clock in the evening.
The candles flickered softly, the wine was ready, and my heart was racing like it hadn’t in years. I had spent the whole afternoon cooking, cleaning, choosing the perfect dress. After years of loneliness, I just wanted to feel wanted again.

My husband left me three years ago. Thirty years of marriage — gone with one sentence:

“I don’t love you anymore.”

At first, I thought my life was over. The house was too quiet, the bed too big, and every evening felt endless. But time passed… and then I met him.

He was my neighbor. Kind, calm, always smiling. We often met in the park or at the store, just small talk at first — then longer conversations, shared laughter, warm looks. Slowly, he made me feel alive again.

When he finally asked me out, I said yes. But I wanted the evening to be special. Intimate. Real. So I invited him to my home. I set the table for two, lit the candles, turned on soft music.

And then — at exactly 8:00 PM — there was a knock at the door.

I smiled, took a deep breath, and opened it.

And then I froze.

He was standing there… but he wasn’t alone.

Next to him stood a woman.
Beautiful. Elegant. And furious.

“Good evening,” she said coldly. “I’m his wife.”

😨 My whole world stopped

For a moment, I couldn’t even breathe. My mind went blank. The table behind me — the candles, the wine, the food — suddenly looked ridiculous.

He tried to speak.
“It’s not what you think…”

But she cut him off instantly.
“Really? Two glasses, candles, dinner for two — what am I supposed to think?”

She stepped inside without waiting for permission. Her eyes scanned the room like a blade. She walked up to the table, looked at the wine, the flowers, the neatly folded napkins.

“Romantic,” she said with a bitter smile. “You never did this for me.”

I stood there, frozen, humiliated, unable to move or speak.
It felt like the air was being sucked out of the room.

💥 The dinner turned into a nightmare

The woman reached for one of the glasses, poured herself some wine, and raised it slowly.
“To love,” she said quietly, “the kind that always hurts.”

She drank it all in one gulp, put the glass down, and walked out. The door slammed behind her, and silence filled the room.

He stayed still for a long moment, staring at the floor.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant to hurt you.”

I didn’t say a word.
I just blew out the candles — one by one — and stood there in the dark.

That was the moment I knew it was over.

💔 The next morning

I didn’t cry. There were no tears left.
I just sat by the window, watching the sunrise, and felt strangely calm.

A few weeks later, I packed a small bag and took a trip to the seaside.
I sat on the beach, listening to the waves, breathing in the salty air. And for the first time in years, I smiled — truly smiled.

Then one morning, a letter arrived.
From him.

“She left. And I finally realized I lost the only real woman I ever had.”

I didn’t reply.
I tore the letter to pieces and let the wind carry them away.

Because in that moment, for the first time in a very long time,
I wasn’t broken anymore —
I was free.