It’s hard for me to believe that this incident happened to me. When I start talking about it out loud and don’t go into too much detail, it still feels like it was a dream. It’s just easier for me to think that way because what happened is, for me, an utterly extraordinary event.
I have a husband, and we’ve been living together for two years. In that time, we haven’t had children yet, and thank goodness for that. Everything happens for a reason, as they say, and it’s true. He’s already in his thirties, and I just turned twenty-two.
It happened right before my birthday. I woke up in the morning, got ready for work, and left. During my lunch break, my husband called and told me he was going to stop by my mom’s place. I don’t remember exactly what he needed—either to drop something off or pick something up.
I should say a few words about my mom. She’s nothing like the stereotypical housewife in a tattered robe with a towel wrapped around her head. As far back as I can remember, Mom has always taken care of herself, getting manicures, going to the salon, and even having special injections to maintain a youthful look. She raised me with the belief that you must never let yourself go. Beauty isn’t eternal, and as you age, you have to put in more and more effort to keep up your appearance.
I came home pretty late that evening because I had to stay after work. To my surprise, I found that my husband wasn’t home. I got worried and called him, but it turned out he hadn’t driven to my mom’s—he’d gone on foot. He stayed there, she made him tea, and when it was time to leave, public transport had already stopped running. So, he was going to spend the night there and come back the next day.
I didn’t suspect anything. After all, it was my mom and my husband—what could possibly happen? The next morning, I woke up to a phone call from my younger brother. First, he wished me a happy birthday, but then, from his tone, I could tell he had something to say but didn’t know how to approach it.
Basically, our dad was out of town for work during those days. That evening, when my husband went to Mom’s for whatever reason, she already had a friend over, and the two of them had opened a bottle of sparkling wine and were happily drinking. When my husband arrived, they invited him to join them.
They kept drinking and drinking, and when it was time to go to bed, my husband stayed in the kitchen, Mom and my brother went to sleep in the living room, and her friend was sent to the den. My brother woke up to the sounds of moans and sighs from my husband and my own mother! I was so disgusted by what I heard that I asked my little brother to stop telling the story. I also felt so sorry for the poor kid who had to hear such a thing.
When I confronted them, saying I knew everything, both of them, of course, denied it. But I trust my brother completely. I didn’t tell Dad, and I convinced my brother to do the same. I don’t think Dad could handle it. I had no choice but to forgive Mom, though it was with a heavy heart. But my husband? I kicked him out that same evening. What a “wonderful” birthday present they gave me…
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