An elderly woman at a nearby table chuckled. “Best Christmas show I’ve seen in years.”
“Julie, I didn’t-” Jimmy tried to explain, but she cut him off.
“We’re done!” she shouted, storming out and leaving a trail of green paint behind her.
When Jimmy arrived home, still dripping with green paint, I greeted him with mock concern. “What happened? You look like the Grinch.”
“Kids with paint balloons,” he muttered weakly.
“Oh no, on Christmas?” I handed him an envelope. “By the way, this came for you.”
He opened it to find divorce papers inside. His face fell. “Alina, wait-”
“Wait for what? Another lie? Another excuse?” I pulled out the diamond necklace from my pocket. “By the way, I kept this. Julie doesn’t deserve it, and neither do you.”
“Alina, please,” he begged. “It wasn’t serious. She means nothing.”
“Jimmy, a mistake is forgetting an anniversary. Buying your mistress a diamond necklace is a choice. And I’m done with you.”
As I walked out the door, I left him with one last line: “Oh, and Jimmy? Green really isn’t your color.”
The aftermath? The restaurant incident went viral, earning Jimmy the nickname “Green Christmas Cheater.” Julie dumped him on the spot, and he became infamous on dating apps as “the guy with the green paint fiasco.”
As for me, I’ve moved on. That diamond necklace looks stunning with everything I wear, and every time I catch its sparkle, I’m reminded of the day I gave myself the best Christmas gift of all: freedom. I may have lost a cheating husband, but I gained my independence and a great story to tell.