It’s December 26, and the name Gisele Pelicot is now etched into my life like an uninvited guest. You know, the kind who shows up and flips everything upside-down? I never thought I’d be part of such a story—one that feels more like a nightmare than reality.
Last Monday, everything seemed fine. I woke up, made coffee, kissed my husband goodbye. But by lunch, I heard her name for the first time: Gisele Pelicot. A text popped up on his phone while it was sitting on the counter. It wasn’t locked, and my curiosity got the better of me. Who wouldn’t look? “Gisele” was saved under her name, plain as day. The message was short: “See you later today ❤️.”
My stomach dropped. You know when you suddenly can’t breathe, but you’re still trying to act normal? That was me. I put the phone back exactly how it was and acted like I didn’t see it. Inside, though, my head was spinning. Who was she? A friend? A coworker? Something more?
By Thursday, I had to know. I asked him about the message casually, like I didn’t care too much. But my voice—it betrayed me. He looked at me like I was overreacting and said, “Oh, Gisele? She’s just a work thing.” A work thing. What does that even mean?
The next day, I made up an excuse to follow him after he left for a “meeting.” It wasn’t at the office, I’ll tell you that. No, he met her at a boutique hotel downtown. My chest hurt watching them walk inside together, laughing like teenagers in love. My husband and mine story suddenly didn’t feel like ours anymore.
Gisele is beautiful. I saw her as she waited outside the hotel—long hair, perfect smile, everything I’m not. She looked like she had stepped out of one of those fashion magazines you only see in doctors’ offices. That’s when it hit me: this wasn’t just my imagination. This was real.
Over the weekend, things escalated. He didn’t come home until late Saturday night. He smelled different—like expensive perfume that wasn’t mine. We fought for hours. He denied everything, of course. Said I was being dramatic. He even turned it around on me, asking, “Don’t you trust me?” Trust? That word felt empty coming from him.
By Christmas, we were barely speaking. I spent the day pretending to enjoy the festivities with family while inside, I was breaking apart. Every time my phone buzzed, I flinched, half-expecting it to be her texting him again. But he kept his phone locked, face down on the table, like he had something to hide.
Today is the day after Christmas, and I’m still here, trying to make sense of it all. I Googled Gisele Pelicot last night. Her social media? Private. But her name is all over corporate directories. She’s an executive, works in PR. No wonder she knows how to spin a story.
My husband insists nothing happened. He says I’m imagining things, that Gisele is just a client. But if that’s true, why does her name make my heart ache every time I hear it? Why does her shadow feel so heavy on our marriage?
Marriage is supposed to be built on trust, but what happens when that trust is cracked? I don’t have an answer yet. I don’t know if we’ll come out of this stronger or if this is the beginning of the end. All I know is that Gisele Pelicot has become a name I’ll never forget, whether I want to or not.
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