I'm not sure anyone truly enjoys "digging through someone else's dirty laundry," but I want to share a story from my own life. Given the way the world is today—where loyalty, honesty, and devotion often feel like empty words—this is something that could happen to anyone.
During my junior year of college, when I was nineteen, I fell head over heels for a girl a year younger than me. It was that kind of age-appropriate madness where I couldn't even look at anyone else. The mere thought that I had no claim on her, that she was free to see whoever she wanted, absolutely terrified me. After a lot of soul-searching, I made a definitive, irrevocable decision: I was going to marry her.
I gathered my courage, found my resolve, and popped the question. Just like that, we were husband and wife.
"You were so young to get married," you might think. But at that moment, every cell of my heart and soul was overflowing with love for her. There was no room for thoughts about school, and besides, it felt like if I didn't do it then, when would the "right age" ever come? You only live once.
In our first year together, our son was born. The level of happiness I felt is simply impossible to put into words. There aren't enough adjectives to describe that feeling of soaring. The ground drops away, a smile is fixed on your face, tears well up in your eyes, and your whole body just trembles.
Time marched on, and the little guy grew up. The first words, the first steps—it was all incredible and unforgettable.
Eight years later, our daughter was born. They say daughters love their fathers more, and in that moment, I felt infinitely blessed all over again. I was the happiest man on the planet.
There it was—happiness. The family I had always dreamed of.
After I graduated, it was time to choose a career path. It was obvious I needed to provide for more than just myself; I was responsible for a wife and two children.
It was clear I wouldn't be working in my field of study because the starting pay was just too low. I honestly can't remember who suggested it, but the idea came up for me to join the military. I figured, why not? The pay was solid, which meant my wife wouldn't have to work at all and could dedicate herself to raising the kids.
***
There were many transfers to different bases across the country. I traveled across most of the United States because of my service. The result: several medals, a few wounds, and consequently, an early retirement.
I left the Army at forty-two. Sitting at home? Not an option. I'm not the type to sit still, and extra money never hurts. I decided to try my hand at a major firm using the degree I'd earned a lifetime ago. To say I loved the job would be an understatement. I gave it 110%, and that kind of effort never goes unnoticed. Within a few years, I climbed the corporate ladder until I became the Vice President and a minority partner. As you can imagine, our family hasn't had financial struggles since.
I'm sixty now, and my wife is fifty-nine.
The event that changed everything happened after forty years of marriage.
Forty happy years filled with absolute trust, loyalty—or so I thought—and mutual love. In all those years, we never once had a fight about jealousy.
Our children are grown now. They both went into law enforcement.
My son's career took off—he's a Captain now, a high-ranking officer. My daughter is a Sergeant.
Our children blessed us again by making us grandparents. It really is something special to watch your legacy continue.
Despite the fact that the years aren't kind to anyone, my wife stayed as slim and beautiful as she was at eighteen, and she did it without ever touching plastic surgery.
Every day, coming home from work, I thanked God for giving me such a beautiful wife, such children, and a love that we managed to carry through so many decades.
Natalie—my wife—had been working for a high-growth company for over ten years. Her intelligence was well-recognized, and she eventually became the Director of Marketing. Because of her role, she had to travel for business quite often. In recent years, the trips became much more frequent, but there wasn't much to be done. Work is work.
Most of her trips were to Denver. Like a devoted wife and mother, she called every day—sometimes several times a day—to tell us how her day went, to check if everything was okay at home without her, and to say how much she missed us and couldn't wait to be back.
***
One day, the company I work for signed a contract with some suppliers in Denver. As Vice President, I had to fly out there to finalize the logistics. After the deal was successfully inked, I was invited into the owner's office for the customary celebration with drinks and appetizers.
Looking around the office, I was struck by how cozy it was: elegant lamps, a fish tank, and several photos on the desk. As I began to look closer at the pictures, I realized the owner of the company was in them, his arm wrapped around my Natalie. My breath caught. My heart just stopped.
I tried to keep my emotions in check and asked in a cold, level tone who the woman was. The owner replied, "That's the love of my life! We've been together for years."
He started describing her, praising her, talking about what an amazing partner she was. The only thing that worried him about their relationship, he said, was her mother, whom she had to visit constantly because of serious health issues.
Listening to his "confessions" was agonizing. I couldn't believe my Natalie was capable of such a betrayal, such a deep-seated lie. I felt like I was going to lose it and kill him right there on the spot.
He invited me to his place in the suburbs, saying it was the best spot in the world and that he'd love for me to meet his lady personally. I accepted the invitation.
We arrived. We walked into the house. I watched Natalie's face change the second she saw me; she went completely white.
Restraining myself was becoming impossible, so I turned around and walked out of that house as fast as I could.
I called a cab and went straight to the airport. I bought a ticket for the first flight out. I sat in the departure lounge, still unable to believe this was reality and not some nightmare.
The only thoughts in my head were, "How could she?" and "Why would she do this to me?"
The stress caused me to have a stroke. Fortunately, I pulled through since I was under observation in the hospital for a month. To keep me calm, they took my phone away. Natalie called, trying to get in touch, but I didn't want to see or hear her.
After I was discharged, Natalie came over and tried to offer some pathetic excuse for what she'd done. She apologized, and at one point, she even tried to turn it around and make it my fault.
I listened to her and realized I couldn't stand watching her sink any lower in my eyes. That was the end of our conversation.
I didn't tell the children at first, but a few months later, I told her we had to. They're adults; they deserve to know.
The moment of truth arrived: the kids know everything. Shamed and realizing she only had the contempt of her family left, she decided to move back to her lover.
A year later, her new husband died. His children never accepted their new stepmother, so Natalie moved back to our city. But we almost never speak.
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