I thought I knew my husband, Henry, after ten years of marriage—his routines, his secrets, even how he liked his coffee. But everything changed one Tuesday when I received a call from Dr. Khan’s office. She wanted to discuss something about Henry, which sent alarm bells ringing.

Curiosity compelled me to visit her office. After some small talk, she leaned in, asking if we were having financial troubles. Confused, I assured her we were doing well. Then she revealed that she often saw Henry leaving in a rusted Mustang, dressed in shabby clothes.

Skeptical, I waited by her window. When Henry arrived, I saw the truth: he was not the polished executive I thought I knew. My heart raced as he walked into a nearby toy store and emerged with stuffed animals. I called him, and his cheerful voice sent bile rising in my throat.

After a shaky drive, I followed him to a small, run-down house. There, I witnessed a scene that shattered my heart—Henry kissing a beautiful young woman, Brenda, while cradling a child.

Confronting them, I learned he’d been living a double life for five years. I demanded he leave our home that night, vowing to let my lawyer handle the rest.

Now, three months later, I’m navigating the aftermath with our children. I met Brenda unexpectedly at the grocery store, and we bonded over our shared betrayal. As I piece my life back together, I’m learning that real love exists in my children’s eyes, and I’ll keep moving forward—for them and for me.