My husband assumed I had the day off when he strolled into the spa where I work, arm-in-arm with another woman. He was so captivated by his mistress that he completely missed me standing right in front of him! Right then, I made up my mind to give him an afternoon he would never forget.
When my manager, Miriam, phoned me on my free day to see if I could cover for a sick coworker, I took the hours.
It meant extra cash, and it got me out of a house where I felt more like a background prop than an actual human being.
My husband, Gideon, didn’t have a clue. He had already headed to the office, and I didn’t bother texting him. To him, my work hours were just fuzzy details that only became important if they messed with his meals or his laundry.
If his favorite blue shirt wasn’t perfectly ironed, my “little gig” was ruining our lives.
If the power bill sat on the kitchen island for a couple of days, I was being “scatterbrained.”
He looked at my spa job as a cute little hobby I did just to kill time between taking care of him.
“Who actually pays to sit in a hot, damp room?” he would joke whenever we were out with friends, leaning back and waving for another beer. “Must be great pushing steam for a paycheck. At least it keeps her occupied.”
He would chuckle, and I would just quietly drink my water, wondering when exactly my life became the punchline to his jokes.
So, when his familiar silver SUV rolled into the spa’s lot at 2:15 p.m., I genuinely thought I was hallucinating.
Gideon never came to see me at work, and he definitely didn’t schedule spa days for himself. The one and only time I brought up getting a deep tissue rub, he stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language.
I stayed hidden behind the frosted glass of the front desk, my hand hovering over a pile of client forms while I watched the car doors swing open and shut.
A moment later, the entrance bell rang.
Gideon walked inside, and he definitely wasn’t alone.
The woman clinging to him looked like she just stepped out of a magazine. Her hair, makeup, and outfit were absolutely perfect.
She didn’t just walk; she practically floated, her hand resting on Gideon’s arm like she owned him. She looked completely at home.
And Gideon was staring at her as if she were the only woman on earth.
He didn’t glance at the counter or check the waiting area for the wife he figured was probably at home turning on the oven.
All his attention was locked onto her.
He stepped up to the desk and gave a quick nod to my coworker, June, who was standing just a few feet to my left. He completely looked past me.
“Booking under… Dean,” he announced.
My heart sank into my shoes. That was a fake name.
“Dean?” June tapped her monitor. “Ah, here it is. The Couples Steam Session?”
Gideon nodded in agreement. “That’s it.”
I was standing right there in broad daylight, wearing my work polo, waiting for a flash of recognition, that gut feeling that warns you someone close is nearby. I waited for him to feel me staring at him.
He never did.
As they trailed behind the host toward the VIP rooms, it felt like a lightbulb finally turning on in a dark room.
Gideon had been making me feel completely invisible for years, but in that moment, I realized he literally couldn’t see me unless I was doing something for him.
I watched the two of them vanish behind the heavy wooden door of Suite Three.
For a split second, the waiting room felt huge and freezing. My palms lay flat against the chilled counter. A weird, scary calmness washed over me. I wasn’t heartbroken. I just felt a very sharp, icy sense of focus.
Then, the daily roster crossed my mind.
I clicked open the digital room layout on my screen. Suite Three. Therapist: Petra.
I was the one booked for their session.
The place offered “Upgrades.” Fancy, pricey add-ons that needed a signature and a willing couple. Most were for unwinding. A few were meant for “bonding.”
I snatched my clipboard and started putting together a bonus feature they were going to remember forever!
After that, I marched straight over to the manager’s office and knocked.
Miriam glanced up. “Petra? I thought you were starting the rotation for the afternoon shift.”
I shut the door behind me. “Miriam, I need a favor regarding Suite Three. The booking is under ‘Dean,’ but that guy is actually my husband, along with his… girlfriend, apparently.”
Miriam’s expression instantly changed. Her boss-mode didn’t drop; it went into overdrive. “And he used a fake ID?”
I nodded slowly.
Miriam stepped out from behind her desk. “How do you want to play this? I can kick them out right now for breaking our check-in rules.”
“Hold on. I want to throw in the Lovers’ Memory Audio to their session. Completely free of charge.”
Miriam stared at me for a solid minute. “You’re up to something… Can you keep it together and stay professional?”
“I’ve honestly never been more professional in my entire life.”
“Alright.” A tiny hint of a smile crept onto her face. “I’ll deal with the ID check. It might take me… about twenty minutes to ‘spot’ the issue. That should give you the time you need.”
“Thanks, Miriam.”
I walked over to the supply area. Suite Three was already marked as “In Session.” Looking at the screen in the hallway, I could see the room’s temperature and lighting.
Gideon was probably sitting in there wearing a fluffy white robe, feeling like a total boss.
I didn’t go inside. Instead, I flagged down Cora, a senior therapist, and handed her my clipboard with a sticky note on top.
She read it, her eyebrows shooting up to her hairline. She glanced at the door to Suite Three, then looked back at me. “Are you serious?”
“Just make sure you get them to say ‘yes’ to the recording on the microphone.”
Cora gave a firm nod. “Got it.”
She walked right into the suite. I hung back in the dim hallway, pressing myself near the door frame.
“Hi there, we are so excited to give you a free upgrade this afternoon,” Cora said with a warm, customer-service tone. “Our Lovers’ Memory Audio is a guided little chat to help you guys bond. It comes with a private voice recording you can take home as a souvenir.”
“A recording?” Gideon asked. “Do people usually do that?”
“It’s a high-end extra, sir. A lot of our most deeply in love couples find it super romantic. It’s totally up to you, though.”
“Oh, Dean, let’s totally do it,” the woman cooed. “It sounds so sweet, and we can play it back later to remember today.”
“Sure thing,” Gideon said. I could literally hear the cocky smirk in his voice. “Why not? Hit record.”
“Perfect,” Cora said. I heard the tiny click of the tape recorder being set on the little table. “To start things off, please say your names for the tape.”
“Dean,” Gideon said. He didn’t skip a beat. He had been lying for so long that it just rolled off his tongue.
“Iris,” the other woman chirped happily.
“Thank you guys. Now, go ahead and turn to face each other. Hold both of each other’s hands. Shut your eyes and just relax into the steam.”
The room went quiet, except for the soft hissing sound of the minty steam.
“Dean,” Cora continued, dropping her voice into a soft, soothing whisper. “Tell Iris what makes this relationship so special to you.”
“She makes me feel alive again.” He wasn’t joking around anymore. “She actually sees me and values me. It isn’t just… a boring routine.”
A boring routine. That’s all I was to him.
“Tell her what you love most about your connection,” Cora encouraged softly.
“I love the… honesty. Being able to just be me without dealing with all the nagging expectations.”
Honesty. The guy was sitting half-naked in a room booked under a fake name, lying to both his wife and his sidepiece at the same time, and he actually dared to use the word honesty.
“Iris,” Cora said next, “describe what makes your bond so pure.”
“We don’t hide anything,” Iris said. “There are zero secrets between us. It’s just… real.”
I felt a crazy laugh rising up in my throat, but I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep quiet.
Right then, Miriam showed up in the hallway. She raised her eyebrows at me, asking a silent question. I gave her a nod.
It was showtime.
Miriam knocked loudly. She didn’t even wait for a “come in” before pushing the door open.
“So sorry to interrupt,” Miriam said, “but we’re running into a major problem verifying the ID for this booking.”
I leaned forward, peeking through the crack in the door.
Gideon sat up dead straight. “I don’t get it. My credit card worked, right?”
“The money went through fine, but our strict rules say the sign-in sheet has to match the legal name on the card for insurance reasons. The name ‘Dean’ isn’t matching up with anything we have on file.”
Iris frowned at Gideon. “Dean? What is she talking about?”
Gideon let out a forced, panicky little laugh. “It’s just a silly nickname, babe. No big deal. Hey, can we just get back to our steam?”
“Actually, sir, giving us a fake name breaks our safety rules. That completely throws out our privacy agreement under section four.”
Iris’s voice shot up an octave. “Wait a minute. Dean isn’t your real name? Then who the hell are you?”
“Iris, sweetie, just calm down,” Gideon said, his voice actually squeaking. “It’s just… It’s really complicated.”
“It’s really not that complicated at all,” I said, finally stepping fully into the room.
Gideon looked like he had just seen a ghost. “Petra? You aren’t supposed to be working today… I can explain everything!”
Iris’s head snapped toward me, then back to him. “You know this girl? Who is she?”
“I’m his wife.”
Iris scrambled off the wooden bench like it had suddenly caught fire. “You’re married?!”
“Iris, hold on—” Gideon pleaded, reaching a hand out toward her.
“Do not touch me!” she yelled. She shot me a look that was a mix of total shock and pity, and then she stormed out the door.
Gideon just sat there in his plush white robe, looking incredibly pathetic.
“We are so done,” I told him.
“Petra, come on, let’s just go home and talk about this.” He tried to use his strict, demanding husband voice, but it came out shaky and weak.
“Nope.” I picked up the little tape recorder. “Since our privacy rules are gone thanks to your fake name, this recording now belongs to the spa. My lawyer is going to have a very easy time pulling this file for the divorce.”
“Divorce?” Gideon stood up quickly. “Stop being so dramatic. We can work this out. You’re just overreacting because you’re… you’re taking this job way too seriously.”
“The job you constantly made fun of? Turns out we take things a lot more seriously here than you thought.”
I stared him dead in the eyes. For the first time in ten years, he was actually, truly looking right at me. Mostly because, for the first time ever, I was the one holding all the cards.
“You laughed at this place,” I told him. “You called it a hot, damp room. Well, your session is officially over, and you are permanently banned from the building. You have exactly five minutes to get your clothes on and get out.”
Miriam stepped back toward the hallway, her face totally blank and strictly business. “You heard the lady.”
Gideon’s shoulders totally slumped. He looked around the steamy room like he was waiting for someone to say it was all a joke, but nobody did. The steam kept blowing, the spa music kept playing, and he was entirely alone.
“Petra, please,” he begged in a whisper.
I turned around and walked right out the door.
I didn’t even look back to see if he was watching me leave. I didn’t have to. I knew that, for once in his life, I was the only thing he could see.