The scent of orange blossoms and old lace still clung to my memory, a sweet, tangible perfume from just days ago. One week. It had only been one week since I walked down the aisle, heart bursting, towards the man I believed was my forever. Our wedding was everything I’d ever dreamed of – laughter, tears, dancing under a sky full of stars. Every photo, every shared glance, painted a picture of absolute, unadulterated happiness. I was finally, truly, complete.
Coming back to work after the honeymoon felt… different. Not bad different, just different. It was the start of a new chapter, I told myself, a fresh beginning with a husband waiting for me at home, a life we were building brick by emotional brick. My job was good. Challenging, fulfilling, and provided the stability we both craved as we looked to the future. I walked in that Monday morning, feeling refreshed, carrying a tray of celebratory donuts, ready to dive back into reports and meetings.
But something was off. The usual morning chatter was subdued. People glanced away as I passed, or offered strained, quick smiles. Did I forget something? Is there a big deadline I missed? My heart started a slow, heavy drum against my ribs. I tried to shake it off. New wife, new outlook, right? Maybe I was just overly sensitive, still buzzing from the honeymoon high.
A peaceful evening scene with Lisa and James sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney
Then came the email. “Meeting with HR and Senior Management. Immediate.” My stomach dropped. I knew that tone. It wasn’t a casual chat. It was a summons.
I gripped the donut tray until my knuckles were white, then set it down gently on a vacant desk, trying to project an air of calm I absolutely did not feel. The walk to the conference room felt like a hundred miles. Each step was heavy, laden with an invisible dread. When I pushed open the door, the air was thick with unspoken words. Two people from HR, stern faces. My immediate supervisor, looking uncomfortable. The Head of Operations, arms crossed. My heart pounded a frantic rhythm.
“Please, have a seat,” the HR rep said, her voice devoid of warmth.
I sat, my hands clasped tightly in my lap, trying to read their expressions. Nothing. Just an impenetrable wall of professional disapproval.
“We need to be direct,” she continued, her gaze unwavering. “Due to recent developments, and following an internal investigation, we’ve had to make a difficult decision.”
No. Oh god, no. A cold dread started to spread through my veins.
“Effective immediately,” the Head of Operations chimed in, his voice gruff, “your employment with the company is terminated.”
The words hung in the air, echoing in the sudden silence of the room. Terminated. Fired. Just like that. My breath hitched. My entire world, the one I had just felt so secure in, was suddenly shaking apart.
James and Lisa looking happy together | Source: Midjourney
“What?” I managed, my voice a strangled whisper. “But… why? My performance reviews have always been excellent. I just got a promotion last quarter!”
“This isn’t about your performance,” the HR rep clarified, her voice still painfully neutral. “This is about a serious breach of company policy. A fundamental compromise of trust.”
My mind raced. Breach of policy? What did I do? Did I accidentally send a confidential email? Misplace a file? I racked my brain, desperately searching for any mistake, any oversight. Nothing came to mind. I was meticulous. I prided myself on my integrity.
“I don’t understand,” I pleaded, my voice cracking now. “Please. You have to tell me. What breach? What compromise?”
The HR rep exchanged a look with the Head of Operations. “We have reason to believe that sensitive company information has been improperly accessed and potentially used for external gain. This has been traced back to our internal systems, through an access point linked to you.”
My blood ran cold. “Access point linked to me? That’s impossible! I would never – I wouldn’t even think of doing something like that!” My voice rose, bordering on hysteria. “I’ve been loyal to this company for years!”
“We know you might not have been aware of the full extent,” my supervisor said, finally speaking, his voice softer, almost apologetic. “But the evidence is substantial. And it implicates you, by association, with the individual who orchestrated it.”
A phone on a table | Source: Pexels
The individual who orchestrated it? What individual? A sickening feeling began to swirl in my gut. Who could possibly do this? Who could use me? My mind went blank. Every face, every interaction, every friend, every colleague flashed through my mind. No one made sense.
“Who are you talking about?” I demanded, the words raw and desperate. “Tell me. Give me a name.”
The HR rep sighed, a sound heavy with resignation. “We don’t enjoy doing this. But for the integrity of our operations, and due to the nature of the information extracted, we cannot risk your continued presence here. Especially given your… personal connection.”
“Personal connection?” My voice was barely audible. What connection? A terrifying thought, cold and sharp, pierced through the fog of confusion. No. It couldn’t be. Not him.
“Your husband,” the Head of Operations stated flatly, his eyes locking onto mine. “We have irrefutable evidence that your husband, [his company’s name], has been systematically extracting proprietary data from our servers. Client lists, project proposals, even some of our upcoming research and development strategies. All through the access you unknowingly provided him.”
The air left my lungs in a rush. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just sat there, frozen, as if time itself had stopped. My husband. My partner. The man who had vowed to love and cherish me, one week ago, had been using me. Using my trust, my love, my access, to steal from my company.
Unknowingly provided him. The words echoed. How could I have unknowingly provided him? My mind raced back, piecing together fragments. The times he’d “borrowed” my work laptop to check his emails, claiming his was slow. The questions he’d asked about my work, which I’d dismissed as loving interest. The seemingly innocuous conversations about my projects, about our client acquisition strategies, that I’d shared because he was my husband. I had trusted him with everything.
A woman crying | Source: Pexels
HE HAD USED ME. HE HAD LIED TO ME. HE HAD BETRAYED ME. Not just my company, but me. Our entire relationship was built on a foundation of deceit. Every loving word, every tender touch, every future plan we’d woven together… was it all a lie? Was I just a means to an end?
My vision blurred. The conference room, the stern faces, the cold professionalism – it all faded into a haze. All I could see was his smile, his eyes, the way he’d held my hand at the altar. And now, all I felt was the searing, gut-wrenching pain of utter betrayal.
“We understand this is difficult,” the HR rep said, her voice now a distant hum. “But we have no choice. Your access has been revoked. We will be sending your final pay and severance details.”
I stood up slowly, my legs feeling like lead. I didn’t say a word. There was nothing to say. My perfect life, my perfect wedding, my perfect new beginning… it was all a devastating, calculated lie.
I walked out of that room, not just fired, but utterly shattered. My husband of one week had not only cost me my career, but he had ripped the very heart out of my world. And I had absolutely no idea how I would ever breathe again.
