That evening, Michael came home as if nothing had happened. He played with the kids, smiled at me, and acted as though our life was perfectly normal. But I knew better now, and I had to decide what to do next.
Later, I confronted him. I couldn’t hold the truth in any longer. “Michael, we need to talk,” I said, my voice shaking with the weight of what I had heard.
He looked concerned but sat down, waiting for me to speak. I took a deep breath and said, “I’ve been hiding something from you.” I paused, watching his reaction carefully. “I cheated on you five years ago.”
His face immediately twisted in anger. “What? How could you do that after everything we’ve been through?” His outburst confirmed what I suspected: he could dish out betrayal but couldn’t handle even the thought of me doing the same.
After letting him vent, I calmly told him the truth. “I didn’t cheat. I made that up. But now I know exactly how you’d react.”
His confusion quickly turned to panic. “What do you mean?”
“I know about your other families, Michael. I overheard your entire therapy session.”
His face drained of color. He tried to explain, to apologize, but the damage was already done. I had trusted him, and he had shattered that trust beyond repair.
Despite his pleas, I packed our bags and left that night with our children. I couldn’t live a lie any longer.
A week later, I filed for divorce. The pain of Michael’s betrayal will stay with me for a long time, but I’ve made peace with my decision. I’ll rebuild my life, one step at a time, for the sake of my children and for my own sanity. Moving forward, I’ll carry the strength of knowing I made the right choice for us.