Invisible to her Husband

With each passing second, Fatima's smile slowly faded away as the name rang in her head. She wished she had heard wrong, but looking at the crowd, witnessing the silence and the whispers from the few guests she and her husband had invited to watch them retake their vows, it was obvious she had not heard wrong. Her husband had said Leslie, not Fatima.

At the church doors were the journalists holding their cameras in position. She was sure they had captured everything, and she knew very well she was never going to get that footage back. Some of it might have already been on live television.

Her husband was a popular businessman in New York. He had intentionally invited the press, but she was sure he had not seen this coming himself.

Fatima felt weak in the knees, as if she was about to faint, when the priest's voice pulled her back to herself.

He asked if he should go again, if he should ask her husband whether he took her as his wife, because the first two times he had asked, her husband had said the wrong name. Leslie. The girl who was standing right behind Fatima as her maid of honor.

Leslie was her husband's business associate. They had been working together for about three years. They had become close, very close according to some people, but for him to say her name here must mean something.

Fatima had had her suspicions before, but she trusted her husband. She had taken his word for everything all this time.

"Shall I go on?" the priest asked again, his voice full of sympathy for Fatima. He had married over a hundred couples in his lifetime and never had a mistake like this occurred.

"Y-yes, please go on," Fatima answered after glancing at her husband, who sighed in relief at her response. He had clearly expected something very different.

"Okay, let us go again. I..." the priest started, and her husband repeated after him, but like the first two times, when it came to the name, he said the wrong one. Leslie. This time he quickly corrected himself.

"Fatima!" he shouted. "See, Leslie is my business partner. I have just spent a lot of time with her recently," he explained as the crowd reacted. "Working. We work together," he added as some people gave him strange looks. Their focus, however, was on Fatima. This man had said another woman's name three times. Was she still going to marry him?

Then the moment for her came. The priest, after receiving a nod from Fatima, began the question again. In his heart he wondered whether she was about to humiliate the man.

He thought she might reject him or perhaps repeat the mistake he had made and say another man's name, or even another woman's. He did not really care which option it would be. He only hoped she would teach the man a lesson.

He had not become a priest to marry people for fun. He wanted to marry people who truly loved and valued each other, and clearly this man's heart was not in the right place.

But when the priest asked the question, Fatima answered without hesitation. She accepted her husband. What shocked the priest even more was that she asked for the rings to be exchanged quickly. She probably had not noticed, but the priest did. Her maid of honor dropped her flowers when Fatima placed the ring on her husband's finger. The priest, being observant, quickly figured out who the maid of honor really was.

The look she gave another woman's man showed that something was definitely going on. He wished he could intervene, he wished he could make the poor woman understand that her husband's heart was elsewhere, but it was not his place. Instead he silently stood by and watched them walk away. Fatima kept a bright smile on her face, but truly she was masking her sadness.

Outside, they got into the car after Fatima had thrown her bridal bouquet. The rest of the celebration was at another venue, so they needed to drive there.

Fatima was still not past what had happened inside. She still wondered why her husband of nearly seven years would say another woman's name, but thinking of their beautiful children, their six year old daughter and two year old son, she quickly dismissed the thought. She reached for her husband's hand, but he was surprisingly focused on his phone. Since both his hands were busy typing, she settled for resting her hand on his lap.

"I am thinking we leave early," she said, referring to the honeymoon getaway she had planned. It was only a weekend trip, but she was excited. She had not spent much time with her husband in a long while. He left for work early every morning and returned very late.

Even when she waited up for him, they barely did anything because he always said he was tired. She understood him. He was running a huge tech company and had a lot on his plate. That was why she was happy that at least he would have the weekend off with her, especially since he even worked on weekends due to a big contract they were pursuing.

"Jonathan will take you home. I have to run to the office," he told her, still focused on his screen. In his heart he could not wait to be dropped off and be away from her.

"I thought we were spending the weekend together," she said. She had swallowed so much rage already. She did not want to cause a scene in front of her husband's driver.

"I thought so as well, but..." He barely glanced at her. "The contract–”

"Yes, of course," she cut him off. She did not want to hear the entire explanation again. "I understand."

She did not. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she felt she had no choice.

"I knew you would understand. I promise to be there for breakfast."

"You are spending the night there?" she asked, surprised. She thought at least she would see him at night.

"Yes. I spent hours at that wedding. If I want to catch up, I must sleep there," he said, clearly annoyed that she was questioning him. Why could she not simply understand him without asking anything?

Fatima was not happy at all. She was upset and furious, but instead of causing a scene, she kept calm. She dug her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from snapping.

"You can still go do whatever you had planned for us. Just think of me and it will be like I am there," he said, and she nodded even though she wanted to shout. How could he say something like that?

The car eventually came to a stop, and she realized they were in front of her husband's company, Ashford Solutions, one of New York's best tech companies.

After giving her a forced kiss on the cheek, her husband stepped out. Fatima rolled down her window to take in some fresh air, and that was when she saw a familiar car pull up. It was her husband's favorite car, the one he never allowed her to drive. She assumed he had asked someone to bring it for him.

She was about to ask Jonathan to drive when she saw red heels stepping out of the driver's seat. She froze when the person came into full view and she saw that it was none other than her maid of honor, Leslie, her husband's business associate.

Even seeing her step out of the car he had never allowed her to touch, and remembering how he had said her name three times, Fatima still tried to convince herself that it was all in her head. She thought nothing was going on. Until she saw her husband walk straight to Leslie and pull her into his arms. At first she tried to tell herself it was just a friendly hug. They had grown close after all. But then the hug turned into a kiss.

Her husband, Nicholas, and Leslie were now kissing right there outside next to the car. It was not an innocent kiss. From the distance she could see there was tongue. It was the kind of kiss lovers shared. The kind of kiss she was supposed to be sharing with him. For the past three years he had only given her innocent cheek kisses.

Everything around her began to blur because her eyes had filled with tears. Her whole body began to shiver, but she did not look away. It hurt, but she still looked, hoping it was her imagination. It was not. The kiss escalated.

They were pressed against the car. Their hands began to explore. It was clear they were more than business partners. They were lovers. Her husband was cheating on her.

If someone had told her this, she would have made excuses, but here she was, witnessing it herself. She did not know how to react. She only felt her heart being stabbed repeatedly, and the more she stared, the more unbearable the scene became.