Met a guy in his 30s. First date felt like a dream. He said all the right things.
I thought, “FINALLY.” Once, during a date, he went to the bathroom and left his jacket. Something was sticking out. I pulled it and realized it was a folded piece of paper, worn at the edges like it had been opened and closed a dozen times.
My first thought was that it was a receipt or maybe a note. But it wasn’t either of those. It was a printed email confirmation from a hotel booking website.
The date on it was for the weekend before our first date. The name on the reservation was his. The second name on the reservation wasn’t mine.
I froze for a second, staring at the unfamiliar woman’s name typed neatly under “Guest 2.” My heart did that slow, sinking thing, like when an elevator drops too fast. I told myself to breathe. Maybe it was old.
But the date was from just ten days ago. He had told me on our first date that he’d been single for almost a year. He had even joked about how lonely Saturday nights were.
The paper crinkled in my hand as I quickly folded it back the way I found it. I slipped it into his jacket pocket just as he returned. He smiled like nothing in the world was wrong.
He sat down, picked up his drink, and asked me if I wanted dessert. For a second, I almost said yes and pretended I didn’t see anything. I wanted the fairytale so badly.
Instead, I asked casually, “How was your weekend before we met?”
He shrugged. “Pretty boring. Just stayed home and caught up on work.”
The lie came so easily out of his mouth that it scared me more than the paper.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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