The Dinner I Wasn’t Invited To

I told myself I wasn’t going to wait for Ethan. I even believed it for the first hour. After I got home, I unpacked the groceries, changed into something comfortable, and started dinner anyway. Not because he had promised to come home early. At least, that was what I told myself. I simply didn’t like wasting food.

By seven-thirty, everything was ready. I had made one of Ethan’s favorite dishes, set the table, and opened the bottle of wine we had been saving. By eight, the food was already losing its warmth.

I checked my phone.

Nothing.

His last message was still the same one from earlier.

Ethan: “Thanks again for bringing the flash drive.”

I typed, What time are you coming home? then stared at the words for a few seconds before deleting them.

Why was I suddenly afraid of sounding like a wife who checked on her husband too much?

Margaret entered the dining room while I was putting the lid back on one of the dishes.

“Ethan still isn’t home?” Margaret asked.

“Not yet,” I replied.

“He told me he had dinner with some business people.”

“Old friends, actually.”

Margaret pulled out a chair. “Whatever it is, you should get used to it. Ethan has responsibilities now. His schedule can’t revolve around when you decide to serve dinner.”

I looked at her. “I know his work is important.”

“Do you?” Margaret asked before reaching for the food.

I didn’t bother answering.

A few minutes later, Chelsea came downstairs dressed for a night out. She stopped when she saw the table.

“Did I miss something?” Chelsea asked.

“No.”

“Then why did you cook so much?”

“For dinner.”

Chelsea glanced around. “Where’s Ethan?”

“With friends.”

Her expression changed so quickly that I almost missed it.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“Chelsea.”

She looked down at her phone. “Camille posted something earlier.”

My hand paused over the serving spoon.

“What did she post?”

“It was just a story. Don’t make it weird.”

“I didn’t say anything was weird.”

Chelsea hesitated, then unlocked her phone. “See for yourself.”

She handed it to me.

The picture showed six people sitting around a table in one of Bellmont’s expensive restaurants. Ethan was there.

So was Camille.

She was sitting beside him, her shoulder almost touching his. One hand rested casually on the back of his chair while Ethan smiled at something someone across the table had said.

There was nothing openly inappropriate about it.

Still, I stared longer than I should have.

Chelsea took her phone back. “See? Just dinner.”

“I never said it was anything else.”

She studied my face for a moment, but she didn’t say anything.

I went upstairs a few minutes later and closed the bedroom door behind me. I tried to distract myself by folding clothes, but I kept thinking about the photograph.

Finally, I called Ethan before I could talk myself out of it.

He answered after four rings.

“Sera?” Ethan said. Music and voices filled the background.

“Hi.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. I just wanted to know what time you’re coming home.”

“Probably around ten,” Ethan replied.

I looked at the clock. It was already past nine.

“You said you’d come home early.”

“I know. Dinner ran longer than I expected.”

“Okay.”

There was a short pause.

“Sera,” Ethan said.

“What?”

“You’re upset.”

“I’m not upset.”

He sighed. “That voice again.”

I gave a small laugh. “Apparently everyone knows my voices now.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

Then I heard a woman laugh in the background.

Camille.

I recognized her immediately.

I looked down at my wedding ring.

“Are you having fun?” I asked.

“What?”

“At dinner.”

“It’s fine.”

“Camille seems to be enjoying herself.”

There was silence.

Only for a second, but I noticed.

“You saw the photo?” Ethan asked.

“Chelsea showed me.”

“Sera, please don’t turn this into something it isn’t.”

“I’m not.”

“It sounds like you are.”

I stood and walked toward the window. “I didn’t accuse you of anything, Ethan.”

“Then what are we talking about?”

I didn’t know how to answer that.

Maybe it wasn’t only Camille. Maybe it was every late night, every forgotten promise, every time Ethan told me he would be home soon and expected me to understand when soon became hours later.

“I made dinner,” I said instead.

His voice softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll eat when I get home.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

That small sentence eased something inside me.

“All right,” I replied.

“I’ll see you soon.”

We ended the call.

I sat on the edge of the bed for a few minutes, staring at my phone. I almost felt embarrassed. Maybe I had let Nina’s warnings get into my head too much. Maybe Camille really was just an old friend, and I was starting to see danger where there was none.

Ethan had never given me a reason not to trust him before.

At least, not until recently.

My phone buzzed.

Nina.

Nina: “Sera, don’t panic. I’m sending this because I think you should know.”

My stomach tightened before the next message even arrived.

It was a photograph.

Ethan and Camille were standing outside the restaurant.

Everyone else from the earlier picture was gone.

Camille had both hands wrapped around Ethan’s arm. Her face was turned up toward him as if they were sharing a private conversation. Ethan wasn’t smiling anymore, but he wasn’t stepping away either.

He was simply standing there, letting her hold on to him.

I stared at the image until my eyes began to sting.

Another message appeared.

Nina: “This was taken after the others had already left.”

I swallowed hard and typed back.

Me: “Who took it?”

Nina answered almost immediately.

Nina: “Someone from the office. She saw them outside after everyone else had already left.”

I looked at the photograph again.

Camille’s hands were still wrapped around Ethan’s arm.

And Ethan was letting her.

I typed slowly.

Me: “Is he still there?”

The typing dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

A few seconds later, Nina replied.

Nina: “No.”

My stomach tightened.

I stared at that one word before typing again.

Me: “Then where did he go?”

This time, Nina didn’t answer immediately.

The typing dots appeared again.

Then disappeared.

I sat frozen on the edge of the bed, holding my phone with both hands.

Finally, another message came through.

Nina: “Sera… he left with Camille.”