I Went to My Husband’s Office Party — What I Discovered There Left Me Stunned

I Attended My Husband’s Office Party for the First Time, but I Never Expected to See His Other ‘Wife’ There

Jennifer was intrigued when she came across an email inviting her husband to a glitzy New Year’s celebration where guests were welcome. But her faith was broken by what she discovered at the event, which led to an unanticipated turn of events.

We were watching a movie when the laptop pinging. Oliver had left his laptop open on the coffee table after using the restroom.

I looked at the screen, my attention drawn to the shimmering topic line.

“To Mr. Oliver,

We are excited to let you know that the New Year’s party is approaching! White Party is the dress code. You are welcome to bring your spouse. Address.

I read the email again and blinked. Plus-ones were never permitted at his workplace. Never. He had complained about it more times than I could count. Nevertheless, it was there in black and white, along with your wife.

I tried to be calm when Oliver returned, but I couldn’t help but be curious. “Your office is throwing a New Year’s party?” I inquired informally.

Before I could continue, he picked up his laptop and shut it. “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Not much. Just the typical year-end activities.

“Can I come?” I smiled and tilted my head in question.

After a half-second of hesitation, he dismissed it. “No, visitors are not permitted. It’s more of a professional occasion.

I scowled. “However, the email stated—”

“Jen, they don’t. Have faith in me. He avoided looking at me and spoke in a clipped tone. In any case, I’ll only be working that evening. Not a huge deal.

For the first time, I experienced an odd feeling. I had become accustomed to Oliver’s absence because he was often working late or traveling for work. Because that’s what you do in a marriage, I trusted him. However, his response felt a little strange this time.

On New Year’s Eve, I was standing in front of the mirror, fiddling with my white dress. I had been plagued by curiosity for days. What prevented him from inviting me to the party? Was he ashamed? Something you’re hiding?

He grabbed his coat and kissed me on the cheek, saying, “Happy New Year, Jen!” instead.

I said, “Happy New Year,” as I watched him go.

I picked up my purse and left as soon as the door clicked shut.

In the darkness, the hotel where the celebration was hosted shone like a gem. Elegant floral arrangements, sparkling lights, and silver streamers adorned the lobby. Conversation and laughter filled the air as guests in dazzling white attire mixed together. As I walked up to the registration desk, I felt both anxious and determined.

The manager looked up from his paperwork and smiled politely, asking, “Name, please?”

Jennifer. “I’m Oliver’s wife,” I declared with assurance.

For an instant, his smile wavered, and he glanced down at his list before turning back to face me. Then he chuckled. “Nice try!”

“I’m Jennifer,” I said once more. “Oliver’s wife.”

The manager’s face became clumsy. “Oh… uh…” After a moment of hesitation, he cleared his throat. “I believe there has been some misunderstanding. Oliver and his companion have already checked in. His actual spouse.

My chest constricted. “What?”

Indeed, he got here roughly half an hour ago. I’ve seen them numerous times, and they always arrive together.” He winced a little, as though he was expecting my response.

I responded sharply, “I’m his wife,” the words weighing heavily on my tongue.

His face contrite, he opened his lips to respond but shut it again. “Let me double-check the guest list.”

Oliver appeared in the far corner of the room before he could move. In his immaculate white suit, he was easily recognized. The sight of him with her, a long-haired woman with her arm resting on his shoulder, made me gasp. They were leaning in close, laughing, and their body language was clearly intimate.

The globe appeared to revolve. As my mind raced, the glittering decorations became blurry.

The manager interrupted my thoughts with a kind “Ma’am?”

With a newfound calmness in my voice, I faced him again. “There’s no need to verify. I spot him.

He paused as like he wanted to add more, but I had already started to leave the desk, the party, and Oliver.

My face was seared by the chilly air outside, but it didn’t put out the fire that was burning inside of me. As I walked to my car, my heels clicking on the sidewalk, I pulled my coat tightly around me.

Although I was unsure of my exact course of action, I was certain that Oliver would regret this.

I was pouring my coffee in the morning the following day when the phone rang. Something forced me to answer even though I was still upset about last night.

A cool-headed, businesslike voice said, “Is this Mr. Oliver’s wife?”

“Yes,” I said, feeling sick to my stomach.

“This is Mercy Hospital. Early this morning, your husband was involved in an automobile accident. Although he is steady, you must arrive immediately.

I gasped. “A vehicle collision? Is he? Is he alright?

“He fractured his arm and had a concussion. When you get there, we’ll explain the complications.

I didn’t speak again. Worried and angry from the previous night, I snatched up my coat and hurried out the door.

I was struck by the hospital’s antiseptic odor as soon as I entered the waiting room. I stood there with my heart pounding while nurses hurried by with expressionless faces.

As he approached me, a doctor called, “Jennifer?” His face was stern but compassionate, and he was middle-aged.

“Yes. Is Oliver doing well?

He gestured for me to sit down and said, “He’s stable for now, but there’s an issue we need to address.” “He has many fractures in his arm. If we don’t start operating right now, there could be long-term harm. Regretfully, his insurance is having issues. Last month, his policy expired. You may approve the process and set up payment because you are his wife.

I blinked as I tried to take in what he had said. “His policy lapsed? Why did he not extend it?

The physician gave a headshake. “We must move swiftly, but I can’t speak to that. Are you going to approve the surgery?

I was shocked to see Oliver as I entered his room. He had a bandage over his head and a pallid face. He appeared more frail than I had ever seen him, and his arm was in a sling.

When he saw me, he croaked, “Jen,” in a feeble voice.

“Oliver,” I stood by the door and replied stiffly.

He looked into my eyes, begging. “Please just listen, even though I know you’re upset. It isn’t what you believe.

I answered, “Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” in a cold tone. “You misled me. You have been deceiving me. I also saw you with her last night. Didn’t you bring her along to that party?

His face turned white. “I can explain—”

I yelled, “I don’t want your explanations,” interrupting him. “Your insurance lapsed, but the doctor thinks you need surgery. Your real wife should probably deal with that issue.

“Jen, don’t do this,” he said in a crackly whisper. “I erred. Just sign the documents, please.

My heart was racing as I looked at him for a long time. I felt like screaming, crying, giving in, and helping him. Then I recalled all the times I had put my trust in him just to discover it was all a lie.

“No, Oliver,” I firmly stated. “You’ve already made your decisions. You can now cohabitate with them.

I turned and left the room without turning around.

I felt as though a burden had been removed from my chest as I walked down the corridor. I understood for the first time in years that I wasn’t in charge of tidying up his mess.

It was done. It was up to him what came next.

The hospital called me a couple of days later. The doctor wasn’t the one. Oliver was the one.

“Jen, please,” he pleaded with. He had a raspy, nearly unidentifiable voice. “She failed to show up. I’m by myself here. You are necessary to me.

As his words sank in, I held the phone hard and remained silent. After all, the “real wife” wasn’t really that real. She hadn’t arrived for anything, including the procedure. When she discovered he wasn’t the man he posed as, she vanished.

“Jen?” he said in a whisper.

I said, “You made your choice, Oliver,” in a firm voice. “Now you can deal with the consequences.”

I blocked his number after hanging up.

I learned that Oliver’s career was failing in the weeks that followed via mutual friends. At work, word got out about his affair. His charisma didn’t seem to deceive anyone anymore, and the woman he’d showcased at the party was no longer spotted with him.

However, I had no sympathy for him. I was liberated.

I wasn’t bearing the consequences of his lies for the first time in years. I concentrated on taking care of myself rather than his needs.

After years of putting off this ridiculous ambition, I finally signed up for a pottery class. I hiked the trails I’d always wanted to see on the weekends. I resumed painting and filled my apartment with colorful canvases.