I thought buying our dream home would bring Louis and me closer. Instead, it became the stage where I learned who he truly was. We’d spent years saving for that house—scraping by, dreaming of a life together, planning a family. So when we finally moved in, I believed we’d made it. Until I met Ruth, our sweet elderly neighbor… or so I thought.

At first, Louis was just helping her with odd jobs—fixing a faucet, repairing a fence, planting flowers. “She’s just lonely,” he said. But something felt off. Especially the way Ruth looked at me—too observant, too calculating. Then one Saturday, Louis grabbed garden tools and rushed next door again. Curious, I followed with binoculars and watched from a hill behind our yard.

What I saw shattered everything.

Louis wasn’t alone. A young blonde woman joined him—flirty, dressed like it was summer break. They laughed, touched, and then she kissed him. Ruth appeared soon after, smiling with lemonade for two. It was a setup. I stormed over, recorded it all, and confronted them.

The girl—Liza—claimed Louis told her he was divorced. Ruth turned venomous, defending her granddaughter and blaming me. But it was clear: she’d orchestrated this “affair” from the start. My husband had lied, cheated, and fallen right into Ruth’s twisted matchmaking trap.

I kicked Louis out that day and filed for divorce three weeks later. We sold the house and split the money. Ruth? She eventually turned on Louis too—when he didn’t marry Liza.

In the end, they all played each other. I was just the one smart enough to walk away.