When I discovered that my husband was cheating on me, anger overwhelmed me. I was ready to make a huge scene, throwing all his belongings out the door. I was incredibly lucky that he wasn’t home at that moment. Even though it was a Saturday, my husband was at work—or so he claimed. Honestly, at that point, I wasn’t entirely sure if he had actually been working on Saturdays for the past six months.
To calm down and collect myself, I decided to visit my best friend, the person who always listens and gives sound advice—my stepmother. My mother passed away when I was 10 years old. My mother’s close friend, Olivia, stepped in to help my dad and me cope with the crisis and navigate the loss of a loved one. Olivia took on cleaning, cooking, and handling small problems. She was the one who attended my school parent-teacher meetings and helped me with my homework. After a year and a half of her support, my dad and I had a serious conversation. Before proposing to Olivia, he wanted to know my opinion. I had a great relationship with Olivia and her son from her first marriage, so I approved of my father’s choice. Two years after my mother’s death, Olivia and her son moved into our house, and three years later, she and my dad officially married. Olivia and my dad don’t have any children together. Both her son and I have long since moved out, so now my dad and stepmother live alone.
Lately, my relationship with my husband has been very strained. We’ve been married for eight years, but we don’t have children. I think the absence of kids has caused us to drift further apart with each passing year. I see how my husband looks at other people’s children—his nephews, our friends’ kids, or even random toddlers—but there’s nothing I can do about it. My husband and I are the same age; this year, we’ll both turn 33. I’m still young enough to have a baby, so I try not to lose hope.
When Olivia opened the door, she immediately understood something was wrong:
— What happened? You look pale, like you’ve seen a ghost.
She helped me take off my coat and invited me into the living room. She brewed her signature herbal tea, and we continued our conversation:
— Anthony is cheating on me…
Olivia frowned and said:
— Honestly, I’ve noticed your marriage hasn’t been perfect lately. I wanted to talk to you about it, but your dad told me not to interfere—you’re adults and can handle your own problems. How did you find out? Are you absolutely sure he’s having an affair?
I understood what Olivia was hinting at. The thing is, my husband is extremely frugal, sometimes to the point of absurdity. For example, he used to wash out milk cartons and reuse them to pack his lunch for work—bread, vegetables, and the like—until one of his colleagues made a joke about it. After that, he switched to reusable plastic containers. Or, in the winter, during freezing temperatures, he rides his bike to work because we don’t have a car. He thinks it’s a waste to spend money on a taxi, and buses don’t run often enough. An affair would mean certain expenses. My husband has never given me expensive gifts; the last piece of jewelry he gave me was a delicate white gold chain for our fifth wedding anniversary.
— Yes, Olivia, it’s exactly because of his frugality that I found out he’s cheating. A couple of weeks ago, Anthony bought gold earrings at a jewelry store and used our shared discount card. Five years ago, when we signed up for that card, we listed my email address. After a purchase, electronic receipts and requests to rate the store’s service are sent to that email. I hadn’t checked that inbox in about five years, but today I needed an email address stored there. I struggled to recover the password, started going through the messages, and found an email about an expensive purchase.
— Ellen, sweetheart, that’s not proof of cheating. The earrings could have been for you, or someone else—like a colleague or friend—could have used his card.
— I don’t wear yellow gold, and Anthony knows that. The earrings are yellow gold with topaz. And the purchase was made with his card.
We talked for a long time, and Olivia convinced me that the earrings weren’t definitive proof of an affair, just a coincidence. She said it wasn’t worth fighting or destroying a marriage over something so small. She advised me to find the right moment and talk to my husband.
— A marriage can be ruined by any little thing, and you’ve been married for eight years. Handle this wisely—talk to your husband.
The conversation with Olivia helped me regain my composure. I decided I would definitely talk to my husband, but I needed to pick the right moment.
That evening, while walking the dog near our house, I ran into a neighbor who lives across the street. We’d been chatting more often lately. She’s a bit younger than me and unmarried. I glanced at her earrings and froze—they were the exact earrings I’d seen in the email.
— Those are beautiful earrings, — I said instinctively, still in shock.
— A birthday gift from my boyfriend.
— Nice gift. You’re lucky to have such a thoughtful boyfriend.
She smiled in response. I said goodbye and left. Now it was clear why she’d been trying so hard to befriend me lately…
My husband is cheating on me. A difficult conversation lies ahead…
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