A chill ran through me. “What do you mean, baby?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.
“Yesterday, I woke up from my nap and couldn’t find him. He promised we’d play, but he wasn’t anywhere. Then I saw him and a lady in a red dress come out of the basement. He told me not to tell you.”
My breath caught. “What did she look like?”
Maggie hesitated. “She had long blonde hair and smelled really nice.”
A knot formed in my stomach. The basement? Jacob and I rarely went down there. Why would he take another woman there?
Later that evening, as Jacob scrolled through his phone, I confronted him. “Maggie told me about the woman in the basement. Who was she?”
His expression flickered—surprise, maybe even guilt—but he quickly recovered. “Oh, that? She’s an interior designer. I wanted to surprise you by fixing up the basement.”
“An interior designer?” I repeated skeptically.
“Yeah, I’ve been working on it for weeks. I wanted to make it a cozy space for us.”
He led me downstairs, and to my shock, the basement had been transformed—new furniture, fresh paint, warm lighting.
“It’s… beautiful,” I said, forcing a smile. But deep down, something still felt off.
That night, as Jacob slept, I searched his social media, my instincts urging me to dig deeper. Then, I found it—a picture from two years ago. Jacob stood smiling, his arm around a woman with long blonde hair, wearing a red dress.
The next morning, I showed Maggie the photo. “Is this her?”
Her eyes widened. “Yes, Mommy! That’s her.”
My heart pounded. I needed more proof before I confronted him again.
When Jacob left for work, I set up discreet security cameras in the basement and living room. That night, I told him I had a last-minute work trip and left Maggie with my mother. I checked the live feed from my hotel room, watching anxiously.
Hours passed, then—“Motion detected.”
I opened the app and saw Jacob in the basement. With him was the woman in red. They were laughing, close—too close. Then, he kissed her.
The truth hit like a weight in my chest.
The next day, I returned home. As I pulled into the driveway, Jacob and the woman were outside. When he saw me, his face paled.
“You’re home early?” he stammered. “This is the designer I told you about.”
I crossed my arms. “Late-night consultations, huh?”
“She’s busy,” he said quickly.
I took a deep breath. “Right. And I just watched you on camera, Jacob. Do interior designers normally kiss their clients?”
Jacob froze. The woman scoffed. “Finally, she knows,” she muttered. “You were just convenient.”
I turned to Jacob, waiting for him to deny it. But he didn’t. He just stood there, silent.
“Leave. Both of you.” My voice was firm, unwavering.
The woman walked away without a second thought, and Jacob tried to apologize. But I pointed to the street. “Go.”
The next morning, I packed his things into bags and left them outside. Then, I drove to my mother’s house to see Maggie.
“Mom, what happened?” she asked, seeing the strain on my face.
“I’ll tell you later,” I said, holding her close. “Today is just about us.”
I took her for ice cream, and as she enjoyed her sundae, I leaned in. “You did the right thing, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you.”
She smiled. “No more secrets, Mommy.”
“That’s right,” I said, squeezing her hand. “And just so you know, Jacob won’t be with us anymore.”
She thought for a moment, then shrugged. “I didn’t really like New-Dad anyway.”
Jacob was gone, and so was the life I thought we were building. But as I looked at Maggie, I realized I didn’t need him. I had my daughter, my home, and the strength to move forward.
Sometimes, letting go of the wrong person is the first step toward the happiness you truly deserve.