I thought my husband and I would be together forever—until our daughter uncovered his secret.
Mark and I had been married seven years. I worked from home as a graphic designer, and our life felt picture-perfect: romantic, steady, and full of hope, especially after finally conceiving our daughter, Sophie, following years of fertility struggles.
Then, at his promotion party, Sophie—bright and innocent—pointed to a woman at the bar and said, “That’s the lady with the worms!” Confused, I pressed her. She added that Daddy had told her not to say anything because it would make Mommy upset.
When I confronted Mark, he denied any wrongdoing, claiming Sophie mistook hair curlers for worms during a brief stop at his colleague Tina’s place. But the lies didn’t hold.
I met Tina, pretending to plan a work event. She didn’t even flinch. “He said you’d figure it out soon,” she told me casually. That was the moment I knew.
I quietly filed for divorce, prioritized Sophie, and let Mark go. He moved in with Tina quickly. Now, their relationship is strained, and Sophie refuses to visit when Tina’s around.
Meanwhile, I’ve found peace. I sleep well, sketch again, and filled Sophie’s room with glow-in-the-dark stars. When she asked why Daddy doesn’t live with us, I told her simply, “Because he lied about the worms.” She hugged me and said, “I’m glad we have no worms.”
Me too, baby. Me too.