He returns home after a regular round of golf, but this time, something is wrong. His gaze is cold, and his hands are hidden behind his back. Paula has no idea that in a few seconds, their usual life will crumble like an old wedding photo.
“Paula, we need to talk…” he said, hiding his hands behind his back.
When he pulled out the papers, her stomach dropped. Divorce.
“We’ve lived a long life, but I think it’s time for us to go our separate ways,” he added quietly.
She didn’t argue. She gestured toward the door. A minute later, an expensive car pulled into the yard, and a young woman emerged. It was she who was taking him away forever. For several weeks, Paula lived as if in a dream. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized—it had all been planned. So she called a lawyer, drew up the paperwork, and called it a day.
Soon she learned that Harold was planning to marry that girl, Melissa, who wasn’t even thirty yet. This news was the last straw. Instead of feeling pain, Paula felt a strange calm and determination. She hired a private investigator—”I just need to find out the truth,” she said.
Photographs, reports, observations—everything was filed away in neat folders. With each page, Paula felt better. She wasn’t going to take revenge unthinkingly. Her plan required time and precision.
Paula only smiled when her son announced that Harold was inviting everyone to the wedding.
“Okay, I’ll come,” she said calmly.
The day of the ceremony was warm and solemn. Guests whispered, admiring the newlyweds. Paula sat in the back row, unfazed.
The priest said,
“If anyone is against this marriage, let them speak now…”
A silence fell over the room. Then, a calm, confident voice rang out,
“I object.”
All eyes turned to Paula. She stood, walked to the altar, and laid out the photographs. They showed Harold in the arms of other women.
Melissa turned pale. Her hands trembled, her lips barely moving.
“Is this true?”
Harold tried to say something, but the shock of those present drowned out his words. Melissa threw the bouquet at his chest and left the room, unable to contain herself. Before leaving, she approached Paula and said, “Forgive me. I didn’t know.”
Paula quietly replied, “It’s not your fault. He deceived you, too.” When the hall emptied, Harold stood alone at the altar. People turned away, whispered, some shook their heads. Everything he’d ruined forty years of marriage for vanished in an instant.
Paula, however, walked out of the church, breathing deeply. Her heart was at peace—not with vengeance, but with justice.
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