Anniversary Night Betrayal

Synopsis

The aroma of red wine reduction filled our Upper East Side kitchen as I stirred the braised short ribs that had been simmering for hours. Ryan had always said my short ribs were better than any five-star restaurant in Manhattan. I smiled, remembering how he'd proposed over this exact meal three years ago. I hummed my mother's lullaby—the one she used to sing when I was little—as I dipped my finger into the sauce for a taste. Perfect. Just the right balance of savory and sweet, like our marriage. At least, that's what I'd thought until now. "Just one more hour," I whispered to myself, glancing at the clock. Ryan had texted earlier that he'd be home by eight for our anniversary dinner. I reached for the recipe book, jotting down a quick sketch of a dress design in the margin while waiting for the tiramisu to set—a habit I couldn't seem to break despite having pushed my design dreams aside years ago. The pencil moved almost unconsciously across the paper, creating flowing lines of