When my husband Ben first mentioned his high-school reunion, I imagined we’d go together — proud parents, a decade of marriage behind us, laughing about old memories. Instead, I got a slap I never expected. After twelve years, two kids, and countless nights spent keeping our home and his life together, he quietly decided I wasn’t “polished enough” to join him. I didn’t find out from him — I discovered an invoice on his laptop for a hired companion, complete with “spouse role briefing.” He had paid a model to pretend to be his wife. While I sat at home exhausted, still recovering from pregnancy changes and the chaos of parenting, he was planning to show off a “better version” of his life without me. That moment didn’t break me — it woke me up.