Many thanks to my editor, Kenji. They do a great job making sense of my stories. Their feedback is invaluable.
One of the things in life is that secrets are always very hard to keep. Even if they take a long time to come out. Once they do come out the damage can be worse than anyone could imagine.
In this story the revenge is a life well lived without the person who lied. In my view it is often the best type of revenge.
Hope you enjoy
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My name is Melissa Andrews, Mel to my friends and family, and I married my childhood sweetheart, Derek, when we were both eighteen. No, I wasn't pregnant, we just wanted to marry as soon as we could, as we knew we were meant to be together. We both went to college and lived in a small apartment off campus. To say our college life was enjoyable was an understatement.
Our plan was to leave college and get good jobs, which we both did. I was a marketing major and I started in a local advertising agency, and Derek was an engineer and he was working in the design office for a multinational. We both worked long hours, and two years after leaving college, we bought a nice house in a good area. It had five bedrooms and sat on a two-acre plot. Perfect for a family, when we decided to start one. The plan called for us to work hard and play hard through our twenties, and start the family in our early thirties. Unfortunately, my mother had other plans.
When we bought the new house, my mum started on about children. It started with statements like, "This is a big house and you will need to start early, if you are going to fill it." It then progressed to, "You know, you should have your children early in life, so you can have a life after they are grown up," and culminated in, "You know the girls you went to school with are already pushing prams, it's time you started giving us grandchildren."
The pressure she was putting me under was terrible, and I felt trapped. Derek wasn't a lot of help. He agreed with me about waiting until we were in our thirties to have children, but he avoided the issue with my mum, and never really stood up to her when she was giving me the 'full nine yards' over Sunday lunch, when we went to their house.
I felt so lost and wanted to let off steam. Two days before my twenty-fifth birthday, the girls took me out for a birthday treat. We were going to a local hotel where we had a spa booked and we would stay overnight; we all had separate rooms. After dinner, we went to the hotel's night club. We all danced with multiple men, but one, Alan, took my fancy. After a few dances and a bit too much to drink, I told him my room number and told him to meet me there in twenty minutes.
I told the girls I was tired and was going to bed. Alan was waiting outside my room when I arrived. The sex was great; I acted like a slut, something I had never done before, and I certainly blew off a lot of steam, but after it was over, I felt empty. There was no emotional connection, no cuddling and certainly no love. We did what we did, he got up and left, and I went to sleep. The next morning, I felt strange. It was not guilt, but I realised two things, first, my love for Derek was total, and that the pressure my mum was putting on me over having children was actually straining my marriage. Something had to give, and last night was the pressure valve release that enabled me to see the way forward.
I left the hotel immediately after breakfast, and went home. We had a computer desk in the main living room, and Derek was sitting at it doing some work. I shouted, "Hallo!" then dropped my bag at the bottom of the stairs. I saw the coffee machine was still on, so I poured a coffee and went to Derek and said the faithful words, "Derek, come and sit with me; we need to talk."
His face fell, you would have thought his dog had been run over. I decided not to let him suffer; so, for once, these words might actually be good. He sat beside me, and I went straight in, "You know, I am twenty-five tomorrow, and my mum is putting me under pressure to have a baby. I did a lot of thinking last night, and I have decided I want to at least give it a chance. I don't want to try and have a baby, but I want to go off birth control and see what happens. I want to go off them for my birthday."
Derek's face was pale, but I could see the beginning of a smile; then, he started to laugh. He said, "I thought you were going to ask for a divorce or worse, ask for a night with some random bloke which would be asking for a divorce in another way. Yes, I would love that. No trying, just having fun. Sounds great. Let's do it."
We flushed my pills that night, and for the next four months, it was like we were eighteen again. Four months later, I was pregnant, and nine months after that, I delivered twins. A boy named Sam, and a girl called Judith. There were a few complications, so another pregnancy was out of the question. Derek had a vasectomy and life was great. I took a few years off work; Derek was promoted and was bringing in over two-hundred grand a year; my mother was happy, and I loved every minute.
When she turned eighteen, Judith went to college out of state to study medicine, but Sam stayed at home. He wasn't academic, but he was a natural photographer. He started photographing local sports events and by the time he was twenty, he was freelancing for some of the biggest sport publications, covering motorsport all across the country. He was earning more than me, and still living at home!
It was coming up to our thirtieth wedding anniversary, and Derek booked a two-week cruise in the Caribbean to celebrate. I was so excited, as we packed to fly to Miami to join the ship, three days before our anniversary.
We had a large cabin with a balcony, I was in heaven. I thought I had life by the tail and no one could take it away from me. Little did I know, I was about to be bitten on the ass by an event twenty-three years previous.
On the first night aboard, there was a gala dinner. We both were dressed up, and as you entered the dining room, there was a line of the ship's officers to shake hands. I was in front of Derek, and because he had stopped to speak to the ship's lead engineer, I was about ten steps ahead of him. We could see each other, but it didn't look like we were together.
As I shook the last hand in line, which was the captain, I heard a voice say, "Mel, good grief. I haven't seen you since that wonderful night at the Hilton. How's it going? You appear to be on your own, did you dump the wimp of a husband?"
I could believe what he said, it was clearly aimed at me. I looked around and saw someone I didn't really recognise walking towards me, holding out their arms for a hug. I also heard Derek behind me. He had heard the same statement, and I didn't have to look at him to know the rage was building in him. He realised the comment had been meant for me, and the implications of what had been said was not lost on him.
Derek did not move, but the mysterious person kept coming. When he reached me, he planted a kiss right on my lips, then said, "You don't remember me? It's Alan, Alan Walker. You must remember that night, I certainly never forgot it."
My wits slowly returned to me, and I pushed him away. "Oh god, what have you done?" I hissed, then turned around to see Derek leaving the dining room. I tried to run after him, but realised Alan was holding my arm.
He said, "Hey, wait. I would love to catch up with you."
I turned, as anger flared on my face and said, "You, stupid bastard. That was my husband, and you promised me you would never speak of that night again. You have destroyed the love and trust of my husband, with your little outburst, and my marriage may not survive that."
I pulled my arm from his grip, and ran after Derek. By the time I reached our room, I was crying. What could I say? What could I do? It didn't take a genius to work out what Alan and I had done, and there was no way that it had happened before our marriage.