On our twentieth wedding anniversary, my husband boarded a flight to Paris with our daughter and another woman, using the eighty-thousand-dollar trip I had planned with my own hands. At 9:17 a.m., an airline notification popped up on my phone. [Boarding for your flight, AF023, will begin in three hours.] I stared at the screen for a long time, one hand drifting instinctively to the slight swell of my belly. Two weeks ago, Daniel had told me he was postponing the trip because I was pregnant. He had even crouched in front of the couch and held my hand, his voice so gentle it had sounded almost caring. "Paris isn't going anywhere, Isabelle. You and the baby matter more." But the flight had never been postponed. I logged into the account with our travel provider. The flights, hotel, and private driver were all still booked as scheduled. My name was still on the plane ticket, but on the hotel reservation and the private tour itinerary, another woman had taken my place. Veronica Hayes, our neighbor, whose husband had died two years ago. My fingers began to tremble. I opened the reservation details for the hotel in Paris and found her name listed on the anniversary dinner, the Seine cruise, and the winery tour. I was the only one who had been removed. I called Daniel immediately. It took him a long time to answer. Voices clamored in the background, and an airport announcement came clearly through the phone. "Attention, passengers traveling to Paris—" "Where are you?" I asked. Silence fell on the other end for a moment. "Isabelle, don't get worked up." I gripped the edge of the dining table as nausea churned in my stomach. "I asked where you are." He lowered his voice. "At the airport." "With whom?" Daniel didn't answer. But then I heard Sophia's voice through the phone. "Dad, we need to check our bags." A second later, another woman gently reminded him, "Don't make her too upset. It isn't good for the baby." My hand clenched around the phone. "Veronica is there too?" "It isn't what you think," Daniel finally said. "You're pregnant. A long flight isn't safe for you. The flights and hotels were already booked. We couldn't let everything go to waste." "So you replaced my name with hers?" "It's just a trip." "It's our twentieth-anniversary trip." I enunciated every word. The itinerary binder I had spent a year putting together was still lying on the dining table, our names printed across the cover. The eighty thousand dollars had come from the savings I had built up little by little after leaving my job at the hotel. I had booked his favorite restaurant. I had even contacted the old inn where we had stayed on our honeymoon. And now he was going to experience all of it with another woman. Daniel sighed impatiently. "Isabelle, you've already been to Europe plenty of times. Veronica has had a difficult couple of years, and Sophia wanted her to come. Why do you have to assume the worst?" My voice came out very quietly. "Sophia already knew?" The phone was passed to her. "Mom." There wasn't a trace of guilt in my daughter's voice. "I was the one who said Dad could bring Veronica." "When did you find out the trip hadn't been postponed?" "Two weeks ago." The very day Daniel had sat in front of me, holding my hand as he lied to my face. "So for the past two weeks, you watched me prepare for my prenatal appointments. You listened to me talk about the trip being postponed. You even blamed the airline with me, and it never occurred to you to tell me the truth?" "Because you would have said no," Sophia replied. "You're pregnant. You should be staying home anyway. Veronica has never been to Paris. What's wrong with giving her the opportunity?" I walked over to the living room wall. An old photograph hung there, taken when Daniel and I were twenty-five in Paris. In the picture, he had draped his coat over my shoulders and promised that we would spend every important anniversary together. "Do you even remember whose anniversary this trip was supposed to celebrate?" Sophia was silent for two seconds. "Mom, can you stop using your anniversary to guilt everyone? Dad is already exhausted." She hung up. I stood alone in the empty living room, looking down at the slight curve of my belly. Two weeks ago, Daniel had rested his hand there and promised he would take care of me and our baby. Now he was at the airport, on his way to Paris with another woman. A few seconds later, a message from Daniel appeared. [We'll talk when we get back. Stop making a scene.] Not long afterward, Veronica posted an update on social media. In the photo, she stood beside Daniel, wearing a scarf my husband had carefully arranged around her neck. Sophia had linked arms with her. The three of them stood in front of the international departures entrance. The caption consisted of a single line: [Finally setting off with the family who matters most.] I looked at it for a long time, then called the travel provider's customer service line. "Hello," the representative said. "How may I help you?" I looked at the reservations I had paid for, none of which carried my name anymore. "I need to review the hotel in Paris, the private driver, and every anniversary activity. Cancel every reservation that is still under my account and eligible for cancellation." "May I ask why you're canceling?" I slipped off my wedding ring and placed it beside the itinerary binder. "Because there is no longer a wife on this anniversary trip."