‘Leave My Husband Alone’: I Found a Note After the Most Unforgettable Date of My Life — Story of the Day

I arrived in Mexico with my husband, John. John was already on his phone, caught up in work emails. That was John—always working, always busy.

He was a successful businessman, the kind who wore suits even when it was sweltering outside, the kind who made deals over dinner and took calls in the middle of the night.

His work took up almost all of his time, and I had grown used to it.

We settled into the luxurious hotel. The room was grand, with a view of the ocean that stretched out endlessly.

But instead of enjoying our trip together, I spent most of my time alone. John was constantly in meetings, leaving me alone within the four walls.

He’d leave early in the morning with a quick, “I’ll be back late.”

I nodded, pretending it didn’t bother me.

I often wandered the city’s old streets, trying to find solace in photography. I captured city moments on camera.

But every time I showed John my photos, he would only glance at them briefly, as if he were doing me a favor.

“This isn’t serious, Lena. Maybe you should focus on something more significant instead of wasting time on these silly things that don’t make money,” he said once, without even looking up from his laptop.

It felt like a slap, even though he said it so casually.

I felt the distance between us growing with each passing day, a distance I wasn’t sure how to bridge.

One evening, after another argument that left me feeling more alone than ever, I couldn’t sleep.

Feeling the need to escape from my thoughts, I went up to the rooftop bar of the hotel to have some tea, hoping the warm drink would soothe the knot in my stomach.

***

I was sitting in the bar, the soft murmur of conversations blending with the distant sound of a guitar playing somewhere in the background.

My fingers swiped through the photos on my phone. Each image held a little piece of my day, but there was an emptiness in them that I couldn’t shake.

Suddenly, I felt a presence beside me. I glanced up and saw a handsome man. His eyes were warm and curious.

“Can’t sleep?”

His voice was smooth but casual like he had all the time in the world.

“Oh. Trying to soothe my soul with camomile tea.”

I slid my phone aside and smiled.

“I’m Mateo,” he introduced himself, extending a hand.

“Lena,” I replied, shaking his hand. His grip was so reassuring.

We exchanged the usual pleasantries. When Mateo mentioned he was also from New York, I felt a flicker of excitement.

“Really? I’m from New York too,” I said, my smile growing wider.

It felt like a tiny piece of home had found its way to me in this foreign place.

“That’s a nice coincidence. Small world, huh?”

As we talked, I felt my mood lift. Something was comforting in our shared experiences. Mateo didn’t just listen. He responded in a way that made me feel like what I was saying mattered.

After a while, Mateo leaned in slightly.

“What do you say we’ll spend tomorrow together? I could show you some parts of the city that you might not have seen yet.”

I hesitated. I knew this was crossing a line, but I was intrigued, and the thought of spending another day alone felt unbearable.

“I don’t know…”

But the excitement in his eyes was contagious.

“I’ll be here at eight in the morning. No pressure, but I think it could be fun.”

Before he could say anything more, I quickly stood up and hurried out of the bar.

“I’ll wait for you all day, Lena!”

Emotions were swirling inside me—fear, curiosity, guilt.

What am I doing? This isn’t me! Taking risks, meeting strangers in foreign countries!

But as I slipped into bed, I couldn’t help but feel a spark of something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

***

The next morning, I waited until John left. He barely looked at me, no words of affection, just a quick, “I’ll be back in 2 days.”

Then he slammed the door behind him.

It was nine in the morning, and I found myself heading down to the bar. A part of me hoped, maybe even needed, to see Mateo again.

As I entered the bar, I spotted him immediately.

When he saw me, his face lit up with a warm smile that made my heart flutter in a way I hadn’t felt in years.

“You came,” he said.

“I did.”

We spent the day exploring parts of the city I hadn’t seen before.

Mateo took me to a local restaurant where I tried real Mexican tacos for the first time.

“You have to try this,” Mateo offered me a bite from his plate.

I took a bite, and a burst of flavors exploded in my mouth.

“This is amazing!”

From there, we wandered through an artisan market, where I bought a beautiful clay pot, handcrafted and painted with vibrant colors. Mateo told me the story behind the designs.

It was easy to lose track of time with him, and before I knew it, the sun was beginning to set.

In the evening, we stumbled upon a small local fiesta.

“I haven’t danced in years,” I admitted as the lively music filled the air.

Mateo grinned, looking into my eyes.

“Don’t worry, neither have I. Just follow my lead.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “I’ll try, but no promises!”

We moved awkwardly at first, our steps out of sync. Mateo stumbled, nearly stepping on my foot, and we both burst into laughter.

“Okay, maybe I’m worse at this than I thought,” he joked, giving me an exaggerated wink.

“Or maybe we’re just a terrible dancing duo,” I replied, giggling as we tried to find the rhythm together.

But soon, the infectious energy of the crowd swept us up, and we found ourselves moving more naturally. Mateo twirled me around.

“You’re doing great!” he shouted over the music.

“Only because you’re making me look good!” I teased him.

Throughout the evening, Mateo asked me about my hobbies.

“You should think about sending these to a magazine or gallery.”

It was the first time someone had taken my work seriously, and it felt good—no, it felt amazing!

But there was one thing I noticed something unsettling.

Mateo’s phone buzzed constantly, and each time he checked it, his face darkened a little more. He would quickly turn the screen away from me, responding with brief, tense messages.

By the time we returned to the hotel, the carefree joy of the day had started to fade, replaced by a creeping sense of dread I couldn’t shake.

Mateo walked me to my room, and we said our goodbyes, his smile not quite reaching his eyes this time.

As I turned to unlock my door, I noticed something lying on the floor just outside. It was a note, simple but chilling:

“Leave my husband alone.”

The words sent a shiver down my spine, the excitement of the day instantly evaporating. I looked around, but the hallway was empty, silent except for the faint hum of the elevator down the hall.

I hurried inside, locked the door behind me, and sat down on the bed, staring at the note in disbelief.

Who had left it? And why?

No answers came.

***

The next day, I needed answers, and there was only one person who could give them to me.

When I met Mateo again, I didn’t waste any time.

“Do you have a wife?” I asked directly.

Mateo’s smile faded completely.

“Yes.”

I felt a cold wave of disappointment wash over me, but I needed to know more.

“My wife is on another continent, Lena. We’ve been separated for a long time—she’s only a wife on paper.”

I stared at him, but before I could say anything, he spoke again.

“I know you’re married too, Lena. But my wife and I… we’re done.”

This wasn’t what I wanted. I wasn’t looking to destroy another marriage, to get tangled up in something so complicated and messy.

“We can’t see each other anymore,” I said. “Please, never appear in my life again.”

Without waiting for Mateo’s response, I turned and walked away. This was the right thing to do, even if it hurt.

When I got back to my room, John was there. He eyed me carefully as if trying to read my thoughts.

He had returned earlier than planned, his behavior strange and off-putting.

“Where have you been?”

“Just out,” I replied. My nerves were on edge.

“How did you like the tacos?”

“How do you know about tacos?”

“It’s obvious, being in Mexico and trying tacos.”

But his tone didn’t sit right with me.

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it,” I pressed. “How do you know about it? Were you following me?”

“I saw you, okay? Last night. At the bar. With him.”

My heart dropped. “What?!”

“I couldn’t find you in the room, and I went looking. I saw you with that guy—Mateo, right? I saw you two together. I knew something was off, so I made up an excuse to stay back today. I needed to see if my suspicions were right.”

“You…you were spying on me?”

“Spying?” John scoffed, his anger bubbling up. “I was making sure my wife wasn’t doing something she’d regret. And guess what, Lena? I’ve seen enough.”

“John, I said goodbye to Mateo because I knew it was wrong. I did the right thing.”

But he shook his head.

“You think that makes it better? Do you think I can just forget what I saw? From now on, you’re going to be under constant watch. I’ll hire a guard if I have to, Lena. You won’t have a chance to make another mistake.”

The weight of his words crashed down on me, leaving me breathless and filled with despair.

“John, this isn’t right. You can’t do this.”

But he just walked away, the conversation clearly over in his mind.

“Watch me.”

That was worse than I had imagined. I realized then that I needed to see Mateo again, to somehow find closure, or maybe just to escape.

But the receptionist said that Mateo had left the night before. It was right after our conversation!

***

After a few tense weeks, I found myself on a plane heading home with John. I spent the entire flight lost in my thoughts, replaying everything that had happened in Mexico, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next.

John tightened his grip on me, using every ounce of his power to control my life, dictating my every move as if I were a prisoner.

The only thing that brought me any comfort was my photography. During our time in Mexico, I managed to capture a collection of photos that felt like little pieces of myself and creativity that John couldn’t touch.

I planned to send them to a magazine in New York.

When we landed and made our way through the airport, out of nowhere, I saw Mateo standing there, holding a sign that made my heart stop:

“Already divorced. Will you marry me?”

John stared at me in shock, his fists already clenching in anger. But something inside me had finally snapped. I couldn’t live like this anymore, under constant tension and control.

“Yes.”

I answered without any hesitation, coming closer to Mateo.

I realized that for the first time, I had truly fallen in love and found someone who understood me and accepted me for who I was.

Mateo was the man I never wanted to be apart from again. And I knew I couldn’t let this chance slip away.

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