As I cradled my six-week-old daughter, Lily, in my arms, the morning light gently filtered through the curtains. This quiet moment was disrupted by the sight of Tom packing his suitcase for the first time since our daughter was born.
“Are you sure you have everything?” I asked, trying to mask the anxiety in my voice as Tom moved around the bedroom. “Almost ready, Lora. Just a few more things,” he replied, glancing at Lily sleeping peacefully. “It’s just a week.”
A week felt like an eternity to a new mom navigating sleepless nights and endless diapers alone for the first time. “I’ve never been alone with her. What if I do something wrong?” I confessed, my voice cracking with fear.
Tom stopped and took my hand, his grip reassuring. “Lora, you’re doing amazing and I’m just a phone call away, okay?” I nodded, trying to smile. “We always talked about teamwork, and now I have to do this solo.”
“We’re still a team,” he said, kissing Lily’s forehead. “No matter where I am, we’re in this together.” As he zipped his suitcase, the reality of being alone with our newborn daughter set in, filling me with dread. What if she needed more than I could provide?
My husband pulled us into a hug, his suitcase by the door like a silent sentinel. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered. “We always get through this.” After he left, the day blurred into a cycle of feedings, diaper changes, and soothing Lily’s fussing.
By evening, as Lily finally slept, I sought a moment of respite on the balcony with a cup of hot chocolate and my phone, eager to escape into the virtual world. Scrolling through Instagram, I envied the vibrant lives uninterrupted by newborns.
But then, I stumbled upon a photo of Anna Wren, a local celebrity, at a new high-end restaurant that same evening. I was admiring her achievements when something caught my eye. There, in the background, was Tom, sitting across from a woman.
My heart pounded as I recognized Eliza, his university friend who never hid her disdain for me. “Why hadn’t he told me about this meeting?” I wondered to myself. I couldn’t understand what I was seeing. He was supposed to be on a business trip, not catching up with old friends!
Feeling a mix of anger and betrayal, I took a screenshot, needing to confront him. However, to be sure, I confirmed Tom’s hotel by matching it with Anna’s tags. Then, I called my friend Mia, who had never met my husband, to discreetly take photos at the hotel.
Her pictures showed Tom and Eliza, unmistakably close, holding hands and kissing… a bitter confirmation. After seeing the painful photos, I decided to take action. I started funneling money into a separate account and met with a divorce attorney, preparing for what was to come.
I needed more evidence and a plan. So I sent flowers to Tom’s hotel room with a note imitating Eliza’s handwriting: “Thank you for a wonderful evening. I can’t wait for many more.” I believed this would plant seeds of doubt when Eliza arrived and saw the note she hadn’t written.
It was my way of getting some revenge on the cheating pair. When Tom finally returned home, I pretended nothing had changed, suggesting a belated baby shower and insisting we invite Eliza. He reluctantly agreed.
The day of the shower, our home was filled with laughter and chatter. Midway through, I started a slideshow of Lily’s milestones. Then, the images shifted to the incriminating photos of Tom and Eliza. The room fell silent, whispers erupting as Tom turned pale and Eliza fled, humiliated.
Tom pleaded, “Lora, please, let me explain. It’s not what it looks like.” I looked at him steadily. “Save it, Tom. Your actions spoke louder than words.” Addressing the room, I said, “Thank you all for coming. I think it’s best if we end the gathering now.”
Once everyone left, I called my attorney. “I want to proceed with filing for divorce.” “Understood. I’ll prepare the necessary paperwork,” she replied. Days later, Tom’s parents learned of the incident and invited him over.
He recounted their disappointment, “We can’t believe you would do something like this,” his mother said, adding they were removing him from their will. Tom told me over the phone, disbelief in his voice, “I’ve lost everything.”
“Yes, Tom,” I replied, my tone cold. “You have.” As I held Lily, I knew we would face whatever came next together, just the two of us. That was enough.
