I was suspicious of a strange note on our bathroom mirror, even though my marriage appeared to be strong. “I already miss you; last night was fantastic,” it said. “XOXO.” I thought it was from my husband Ryan, so I texted him in the hopes of receiving a satisfactory response. On the contrary, his awkwardness raised suspicions.
I was even less certain after he initially rejected me and then admitted that he had forgotten the note. Since he hardly ever forgot things, something wasn’t quite right. I began to wonder: Was Ryan telling the truth?
The more the day went on, the more anxious I became. My work kept getting distracted by my thoughts, making it difficult for me to focus. That night, I felt even worse because of Ryan’s carefree demeanor. Choosing to investigate, I searched his phone for any hints. My instincts told me not to, even though it was clean.
A few days later, Ryan’s father, Bob, unexpectedly appeared and reported that his laptop was experiencing issues. He always stopped by when I wasn’t around, which made it seem suspicious. When they called, Ryan’s mother Claire informed them of Bob’s odd behavior. I sensed that there was a connection.
Determining to learn the truth, I pretended to attend the gym and parked close by to observe. At my door a woman appeared. I was devastated. As she entered, I hid and watched. I went to the bathroom as the shower ran. The sight of Bob with the odd woman rocked my world.
I asked Bob questions during our conversation. His clumsy justifications confirmed my worst suspicions. He was in our home having an affair. Ryan was also involved, so it wasn’t just Bob who disappointed me.
Ryan and I spoke that evening. He was initially defensive before acknowledging that he was aware of his father’s infidelity. His justification—to keep his mother safe—infuriated me even more. How could he be honest and reliable and yet honor his family?
We argued for hours, and Ryan was still unaware of the severity of his actions. I suggested that he sleep in the living room to gain some space.
After telling Claire the following morning, we devised a strategy. Bob donated money to celebrate her 65th birthday, and we were going to take it with us. By week’s end, we had both filed for divorce.
Claire and I now share a lovely apartment and don’t lie to one another. It’s nice to be free again. We’re closing a chapter of deceit and treachery and beginning a new one with a brighter future.
If you had been me, what would you have done?
