I woke up on the morning of my 35th birthday with a mix of excitement and sadness. Birthdays had always been a big deal for me, but this year, something felt different. I reached for my phone, hoping for a message from James.

Nothing. I sighed, missing his morning texts that usually made me smile. He was on a business trip, and wouldn’t be back until later in the evening for the party. I threw the blanket off, feeling the emptiness of the house without him. Just as I was about to get out of bed, the doorbell rang, jolting me from my thoughts.

“These are stunning,” I breathed out, running my fingers over the leather. “But…who would send me shoes?”

As I lifted one of the shoes, something fluttered out. A note. My excitement quickly faded as I unfolded it, my eyes scanning the words.

“THE ONE WHO WILL HAVE THE SAME SHOES AT YOUR BIRTHDAY PARTY TODAY WANTS TO RUIN YOUR LIFE.”

“Hi, I’m Samantha, the sales assistant at the shoe store. Two days ago, I overheard this man talking to this woman. He said, ‘My love, finally I can enjoy your company. My silly wife doesn’t even suspect that I’m the happiest man now with another woman. These shoes will look perfect on you at her birthday party. And at midnight, when she falls asleep, I’ll be dying to take them off you.’”