The following day, I decided to dig a little deeper. I logged into our shared email account, a habit we had developed for managing household bills. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, perhaps some indication of a conversation or a plan that included me without my knowledge.
As I skimmed through the emails, I came across a message from the charity organizer, dated a week before the event. It was a brief note, thanking my husband for his “unusual but generous offer.” My heart pounded as I clicked the attachment, a PDF titled “Auction List.” There, in black and white, was my name listed under “Special Experiences.”
A hundred thoughts raced through my mind. This wasn’t an off-the-cuff remark; it had been planned. I felt a strange mix of anger and betrayal, but also an unsettling curiosity. What was his endgame?
When I confronted him that evening, he seemed genuinely surprised at my distress. “It’s all for charity,” he insisted. “I thought you’d be amused.” His nonchalance only fueled my frustration, yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more beneath the surface.
I needed to talk to someone who might have more insight, so I reached out to the charity organizer, hoping she could shed some light.
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