Louis was kneeling in a flower bed near her back porch, just like he’d said. He had dirt on his hands and was carefully placing the seedlings in neat rows. But then I saw someone else step out of the house.
A young woman. Maybe in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and a figure that belonged in a magazine. She wore a skimpy tank top and tiny shorts that left nothing to the imagination.
“Who the hell is that?” I whispered to myself. The woman walked over to Louis and crouched down beside him in the garden. She said something that made him laugh.
Then she handed him a flower. A single red rose. And then… God, I can barely write this… She put her arms around his neck and kissed him.
Right there in Ruth’s garden, like they didn’t have a care in the world. I felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I might actually throw up.
But it got worse. Ruth appeared on her back porch, carrying a tray with three glasses of lemonade. Three glasses.
She’d known this girl would be there. Ruth smiled at the two of them like she was watching her favorite movie, then set the tray down on a little garden table. At that point, I couldn’t take it anymore.
What made Louis think he could kiss another woman when his wife was right next door? What was going on? I scrambled down the hill, marched around to Ruth’s front yard, and pressed my face against a crack in her fence.
I pulled out my phone and started recording everything I could see. Louis was now sitting on a wooden garden bench with this woman practically in his lap. They were kissing like teenagers, completely lost in each other.
Meanwhile, Ruth was bustling around them, refilling their lemonade glasses like she was hosting a romantic picnic. That was my husband of five years, the man who’d promised to love me forever. He was the same man who’d talked about having children with me just last week.
“Louis,” I called out. He looked up like he’d seen a ghost. The girl immediately scrambled off his lap, her face turning bright red.
I walked around to Ruth’s gate and let myself in. “I thought you loved me,” I said, fighting back tears. “And all this time, you were coming to this old witch next door so she could set you up with a girlfriend?”
Louis’s mouth dropped open.
“Bella, I—it’s not what it looks like—” he stammered. “Really?” I turned to face the young woman, who was now backing toward the house. “And you?
Did you know he was married?”
Her face went from red to white. “He told me he was divorced,” she said in a small voice. “I swear, I didn’t know you existed.”
That’s when Ruth stormed over, her sweet grandmother act completely gone.
“How dare you trespass on my property!” she shouted. “You have no right to come here and accuse people!”
“Liza, go inside,” Ruth barked at the young woman. The girl, Liza, obeyed immediately and ran toward the house.
“Your property?” I yelled at Ruth. “You’ve been stealing my husband! You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ruth said, but her face told a different story.
The mask of the sweet old lady was completely gone now, replaced by something cold and calculating. “You lying, manipulative—” I began, but Ruth cut me off. “Don’t you dare scream at me!” she shouted over me.
“My granddaughter is a good girl, and I won’t tolerate anyone yelling at her.”
And that’s when everything clicked into place. Ruth, the innocent widow who needed help with repairs, had been playing matchmaker this entire time. She’d orchestrated everything.
The broken faucets, fence repairs, and garden projects were all designed to get Louis over here so he could meet her precious granddaughter. And Louis… he actually thought he could keep both lives running side by side. His wife at home, planning their future and talking about babies.
His girlfriend next door, young and beautiful and available whenever Ruth needed another “repair.”
But he hadn’t counted on me finding out. “You planned this,” I said to Ruth. “You’ve been setting him up with her from the beginning.”
Ruth lifted her chin defiantly.
“Liza deserves a good man. Someone who’ll take care of her.”
“He’s married!” I screamed. “He told her he wasn’t,” Ruth snapped back.
“Maybe if you’d been a better wife, he wouldn’t have been looking elsewhere.”
“But you knew, you—” I stopped midway as I realized my husband was the one to blame. He was the one who claimed to be single. I looked at Louis, who was still sitting on that bench, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else in the world.
“Don’t come home tonight,” I said simply. “Bella, please, we can work this out—”
“No,” I said. “We can’t.”
I walked straight home, packed his things into garbage bags, and left them on the front porch.
Three weeks later, I filed for divorce. We put the dream house on the market and split the money down the middle. Louis begged and pleaded.
He called it a “mistake.” Said it “meant nothing,” and that he was “confused” and “didn’t know how it happened.”
But I wasn’t confused. Not anymore. I was done.
Louis didn’t end up with that girl, by the way. Not that I cared by then, but word travels fast in small neighborhoods. A few weeks after our divorce was finalized, I heard from another neighbor that Ruth had shown up at Louis’s mother’s house, absolutely furious.
She’d screamed at him right there on his mother’s front porch, loud enough for half the street to hear. Called him a liar and a coward. Said he’d broken her granddaughter’s heart, that he’d promised to leave me and marry Liza.
That he’d disgraced them both. Apparently, Ruth had convinced Liza that Louis was going to divorce me and make her his wife. When that didn’t happen, they realized they’d been played just as much as I had.
Honestly, I was just glad to be out of that whole circus.
