While going through my husband Denton’s old coat, I found a note that made my heart race: “This is between us. No one else can know.”
The handwriting wasn’t his, and a strange number was scrawled beneath it.
Trying to stay calm, I dialed. A composed voice answered with nothing but an address.
The next day, I followed coastal roads to a grand seaside mansion, nerves on edge. Was Denton hiding something? A secret life?
But when the doors opened—confetti flew, music played, and our loved ones cheered.
There stood Denton, roses in hand. “Happy 10th anniversary,” he said, smiling.
The whole thing was a surprise—an elaborate tribute to the summer we first fell in love. What I feared was betrayal turned out to be a beautiful reminder of our bond.
Sometimes, the best secrets are the ones made with love.
