My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband, Stan, was secretly renting a house on the outskirts of town. For years, I believed we were living a fairy tale. Stan was my soulmate, but when I stumbled upon a forgotten phone, everything changed.

Stan and I had met at a press conference in Tokyo and were inseparable for seven years. But as his career took off, he spent less time at home, showering me with gifts instead of love. One fateful morning, I noticed his phone buzzing with a message: “FINAL REMINDER TO PAY THE RENT FOR THE HOUSE.” My heart sank. What house?

That evening, I followed him, heart pounding, and found him at the rented place. When I entered, I was met with a shocking sight: Stan painting. Confused, I pressed him for answers. Just then, a young woman appeared at the door, claiming to be Luke’s girlfriend. My world shattered—“I’m his WIFE!”

In a panic, Stan tried to explain, but I felt betrayed. I discovered paintings of scantily clad women and photos of him with them. The truth hit hard: he was cheating on me.

“I can explain!” he pleaded, but I couldn’t listen. I left, my heart racing, and packed my things, seeking refuge at my aunt’s.

Now, as I initiate divorce proceedings, I reflect on how quickly my perfect marriage crumbled. It was a fragile illusion, shattered by the very man I trusted and loved.