My Wife Sold Our Home

Ten minutes ago, I was joking with my friend about how my wife had been complaining about a sore back lately.

I even told him I was going to sign her up for some high-end private training sessions.

But the next second, I spotted her white coupe parked outside a private one-on-one fitness studio.

Suppressing my rising doubts, I walked up to the front desk and gave her name and phone number.

"Could you check if Olivia has an appointment today?"

The receptionist looked up, her eyes darting away as she forced a polite, professional smile.

"I'm sorry, sir. We cannot disclose client information."

I stood frozen. A chill ran down my spine.

Cannot disclose?

That meant she was definitely here.

Mark stared at the white coupe in confusion.

"Wait, didn't Olivia say she was out of town on a business trip? What is her car doing here?"

Exactly.

She supposedly flew out last night and said she wouldn't be back until this evening to celebrate my birthday.

I pulled out my phone and dialed her number. No answer.

I checked the time: 11:30 AM.

"Forget it, let's just go up," I said.

This high-end private gym was located in the most expensive commercial district in the city.

They specialized in one-on-one personal training, physical therapy, and premium athletic conditioning.

My lower back had been acting up lately, so Mark had planned to drag me here on my birthday to check out their rehab programs.

The elevator doors slid open, and the receptionist greeted us with a polished smile.

"Welcome, gentlemen. Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, under Mark"

"No," I interrupted, gently pulling Mark behind me.

"My wife booked it. Olivia Clarkson."

The receptionist hesitated, glancing down at her screen.

Then, she looked back up.

"I'm sorry, sir. Due to client privacy policies, I can't confirm any appointment details with you."

My chest tightened.

Mark glanced at me, immediately catching on.

A woman who claimed to be out of town suddenly showing up at a high-end private gym? She wasn't here just to work on her glutes.

I took a deep breath and looked at the young woman behind the desk.

"Here's the thing. My wife mentioned she wanted to look into a rehab program for me and told me to come by today to add my name to her family plan."

"My back is really killing me right now. Can I just go sit in the lounge for a bit?"

The receptionist's smile didn't waver.

"I'm sorry, sir. Without an appointment confirmation, we can't let you into the member area."

I nodded.

"I understand. Could you do me a favor and call her to confirm?"

"Just tell her James is at the front desk and ask if she could come out and get me."

The receptionist hesitated for a second. "James?"

"Yes. My wife's name is Olivia."

She typed the name into her system, found the file, and picked up the intercom.

My heart leaped into my throat.

"Hi, Olivia. This is the front desk."

"A gentleman named James is here. He says he's here to complete the family registration for the program you inquired about."

"Could you come out to receive him?"

There was a long pause on the other end.

"Who did you say?"

The receptionist turned back to me.

"Sir, what's your full name?"

"James Clarkson."

"Got it."

She spoke back into the receiver.

"A Mr. James Clarkson is at the front desk. Is it convenient for you to come out?"

One second. Two seconds.

Just when I thought she had hung up, a voice finally came through.

"I'll be right out."

The call ended.

The receptionist smiled professionally.

"Mr. Clarkson, you can wait in the lounge."

She was indeed here.

But right now, I only knew she was at this gym. I had no idea who she was with.

The receptionist wouldn't tell me. Privacy.

Isn't it ironic?

The rules protected her privacy while she was with another man, but didn't give the betrayed spouse a single warning.

My phone lit up. It was Olivia calling.

I stared at her name on the screen and hit decline.

A second later, a text popped up on SnapChat.

"James, my company suddenly arranged a quick meeting near here. Why don't you and Mark look around? I'll be down in a minute."

"What did she say?" Mark asked.

I turned the screen toward him.

He read it, a curse escaping his lips.

"Are you kidding me? How can she be so shameless?"

He stared at me, looking angrier than I was.

"But we still don't know who she's with."

I looked at the warm, elegant lighting of the studio and the neat rows of brochures. I took a deep breath.

"Who said I was going to ask her right now?"

"Then what are you"

"We wait for her."