Is there a workplace relationship involved here? Neither of them answered. I showed the vice president the calendar entries and the printed messages between Trevor and Paula. I explained the dates, the conflicting stories Paula had told me, and the private meetings mentioned in their messages.
I didn't claim to know everything that had happened between them. I simply presented the evidence and explained why I believed they had been hiding an affair. The vice president's expression grew serious. I think we need to handle this through the appropriate process.
He said, "Trevor, Paula, please speak with HR before leaving today." Trevor looked furious, but he kept his voice controlled. "This is a private matter." "If it's a private matter, you can explain that to HR," the vice president replied. "Paula looked at me as though she wanted me to rescue her from the situation." "I didn't." "You could have talked to me at home," she whispered. "I tried asking questions at home.
You called them interrogations." "Howard, please." I put my phone away. You have nothing to say to me that I haven't already heard in one form or another. I walked out with Denise. Neither of us spoke until we reached the parking lot.
Do you think they'll lose their jobs? She asked. I don't know. That's for the company to decide.
She nodded slowly. I used to think that if I ever found proof, everything would suddenly make sense. It doesn't. I just feel stupid for believing him.
You're not stupid for trusting your husband, I told her. He's responsible for what he chose to do with that trust. We said goodbye and I drove home alone. Paula didn't return until after 7.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when she walked through the door. She set her bag down and stared at me. How could you do that to me? I didn't stand up.
How could I do what? Show up at my work event with Denise and humiliate me in front of everyone. You were meeting your boss behind my back. What did you expect?
She folded her arms. You don't understand what happened. Then explain it. She paced between the kitchen and the living room before stopping in front of me.
Trevor and I got close. Things happened. It wasn't planned. How long?
She looked away. Howard, I don't want to go through every detail. How long, Paula? She took a breath.
Several months. I nodded. I had suspected as much, but hearing her admit it still hurt. Did you love him?
No. Did he promise you something? A promotion? A future together?
No, it wasn't like that. Then what was it like? She rubbed her forehead. It was just physical.
For a moment, I studied the woman I had married 5 years earlier. I remembered the promises we had made, the home we had built, and all the times I had defended her when someone questioned her decisions. She seemed to expect that her answer would make the situation smaller, as if calling it physical meant the betrayal had no deeper meaning. I pushed my chair back and stood.
Then, pack your things. Her mouth fell open. What? You heard me.
If it was just physical, then you shouldn't have any trouble leaving it behind. Pack a bag and find somewhere else to stay. You can't be serious. I've never been more serious about anything.
She stared at me, waiting for anger or another argument. I gave her neither. Howard, we can work through this. You had months to think about what you were doing.
I'm not making my decision in the heat of the moment. I'm making it after finding out what you've been hiding. her eyes filled with tears. You're throwing away 5 years over an affair. No, you put those 5 years at risk when you chose to betray me.
I'm deciding what happens next. She shook her head. You'll regret this. Maybe, but I won't stay married to someone who expects me to accept betrayal because she says it didn't mean anything.
I walked upstairs, leaving her standing in the kitchen. Behind me, I heard her begin to cry. I didn't turn around. About 20 minutes later, I heard a suitcase rolling across the bedroom floor.
Paula came downstairs carrying a bag and stopped in the hallway. "Where am I supposed to go?" she asked. "That's something you'll need to arrange." She stared at me, hoping I'd change my mind. When I didn't, she called a friend and asked if she could stay for a few nights.
Before leaving, she turned toward me one last time. "Please don't do this to us. You should have thought about us before you started lying to me." She looked away, opened the front door, and left. I watched her car disappear down the street before closing the door.
The house was quiet. For 5 years, I'd shared it with my wife. Now, I stood alone in the hallway, trying to accept that the life we'd built was coming to an end. I barely slept that night, but I didn't change my mind.
The next morning, I woke before my alarm, showered, dressed for work, and checked the documents I'd prepared the night before. I had gathered copies of our financial information, the records I'd preserved, and the details my attorney had asked me to bring. When I entered the kitchen, Paula wasn't there. Her coffee mug was gone, but the rest of the house looked exactly as it had the night before.
I picked up my keys and left for my appointment. My attorney's office was in a professional building near downtown Columbus. He had already reviewed the information I'd sent him, and during our meeting, he explained the divorce process, the financial documents we'd need, and the importance of keeping communication civil. He didn't promise me a quick or easy outcome.
He told me what to expect and what decisions would have to be made as the process moved forward. I listened, asked questions, and signed the paperwork he had prepared. By the time I left his office, the divorce filing had been submitted. It was done.
I sat in my car for several minutes before starting the engine. I'd imagined feeling triumphant when I finally took that step. Instead, I felt the weight of what it meant. My marriage wasn't just in trouble anymore.
I'd begun the legal process of ending it. But I didn't regret it. When I returned home that afternoon, Paula was waiting in the living room. She must have come back to collect some things.
Her eyes were red and her phone lay on the coffee table. "Did you really file?" she asked. "Yes." She stood and walked toward me. Howard, you can't just end our marriage without giving me a chance to fix this.
I gave you 5 years of chances to be honest with me. You chose not to be. I made a mistake. Several months of lying isn't one mistake.
She flinched at that. Trevor told me he was going to leave his wife. I looked at her carefully. When did he tell you that?
Before the conference. He said things at home had been bad for a long time. And you believed him? She looked down.
I wanted to believe him. That answer told me more than she probably intended. She'd been willing to gamble our marriage on promises from a married man who worked above her. Did he tell you that before or after you started sleeping together?
I asked. She didn't answer. I shook my head. I'm not going to spend the rest of my life investigating every lie you've told me.
Her phone began ringing. She glanced at the screen and turned it face down. I didn't need to ask who it was. Is that Trevor?
I said. She remained silent. Whatever happens between you and him is no longer my concern. I picked up the documents my attorney had given me and put them away.
I wasn't going to make a reckless decision about the house or our shared finances. My attorney had told me to leave those matters alone until we had a proper plan. Paula watched me. What happens now?
We let the legal process take its course. We'll deal with the house and everything else through our attorneys. She looked around the living room. I never thought you'd actually leave me over this.
I'm not the one who walked away from our marriage first, Paula. She lowered her eyes. Neither of us said anything for a while. Eventually, she gathered the belongings she'd come back for and left again.