It was a chilly Thursday evening when Anna, feeling a rush of excitement, decided to surprise her boyfriend, Mark. They had been dating for about a year, and despite their busy schedules, she always made an effort to keep their relationship fresh with little surprises. Anna had been planning this surprise for weeks. She’d taken the day off work, bought his favorite takeout from a nearby restaurant, and even picked up a bottle of wine she knew he’d love.
Anna had visited Mark at his apartment before, and she knew the place well. But this time, as she stood in front of his door, she felt a mix of anticipation and nervousness. She could already picture the smile on his face when he opened the door and saw her holding the food and wine. The thought made her heart race with excitement.
As she rang the doorbell, she checked her phone to make sure she had everything. The plan was simple: Mark would be thrilled, and they would spend the evening talking, eating, and laughing together.
But as the door swung open, Anna’s smile immediately faded. Standing before her wasn’t Mark—at least not the Mark she recognized. The woman who opened the door was in her late thirties, wearing an apron and holding a cup of coffee. She looked at Anna, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Can I help you?” the woman asked, her voice tinged with confusion.
“Um, is Mark here?” Anna asked, her confusion matching the woman’s.
The woman looked at her for a long moment before replying. “Who are you?”
Anna felt a tightness in her chest. “I’m Anna. I’m his girlfriend.” She paused, hoping to clarify. “I’ve come to surprise him.”
The woman’s face slowly drained of color. “His girlfriend?” she repeated softly, almost in disbelief. Then, her expression darkened, and she opened the door wider. “I think you need to come inside,” she said firmly, gesturing for Anna to step in.
Unsure of what was happening but feeling a growing sense of dread, Anna walked inside. The woman led her into a living room that seemed familiar—except for the photos on the walls. There were pictures of Mark with the woman, smiling and laughing together, along with images of children Anna hadn’t seen before. The truth began to sink in like a cold wave crashing over her.
“Mark’s my husband,” the woman said, her voice shaking with a mixture of anger and sadness. “We’ve been married for ten years, and we have two children. Who are you?”
Anna could barely speak. Her mind was spinning, and her stomach churned with disbelief. How could Mark, the man she thought she knew, be married to someone else? How had she never suspected this?
Before she could respond, Mark walked into the room. When he saw Anna standing there, his face turned pale, and his eyes widened in shock. The silence between them felt suffocating, the weight of the truth crashing down around him.
Anna finally found her voice. “How long, Mark? How long have you been lying to me?”
Mark stammered, but the words didn’t come. The reality of the situation was too much to bear. The woman, Mark’s wife, crossed her arms, glaring at him.
Anna turned and walked out, her heart breaking with every step she took. As she left the apartment, she realized how badly she had been deceived. The person she thought she knew and loved had been hiding a secret life—a life she never even suspected. The betrayal stung, but Anna knew it was better to walk away than stay in the web of lies that had been spun around her.
