Motherhood had left me exhausted, and my husband, Nate, seemed to understand. Each evening, he offered to take our baby, Caleb, for a walk so I could rest — a gesture I deeply appreciated. But one evening, he forgot his phone, and when I followed to return it, I discovered he wasn’t heading to the park as usual. Instead, he met another woman at a café — smiling, laughing, and holding hands like it was routine.
Crushed but needing proof, I swapped Caleb for a doll the next day and hid a baby monitor in the stroller. From nearby, I heard Nate tell the woman I was just his wife, kept around until I inherited money, and that she was the one he really wanted.
I confronted them. He was stunned. I left him then and there.
The divorce was swift. He didn’t contest custody or the house. Months later, a friend told me the woman was engaged — Nate had been her side fling. Watching video of him yelling while she ignored him, I felt one thing: freedom.
Now, Caleb and I are thriving. I saw Nate once in a grocery store. He looked worn and wanted to talk. I told him the only thing he could do was send child support on time.
As for my inheritance? I put it in a trust for Caleb’s future — because love shouldn’t be transactional, and betrayal doesn’t get rewarded.