The story I want to share is one that many know all too well. Sadly, it has become a norm for many men. But I never imagined it could happen to me and my family.
I always believed our family was strong and happy. Everyone around us thought we were the perfect couple, and for a long time, I thought so too. The truth is, my husband and I have been married for nearly two decades. Over those years, we raised three wonderful sons. Our eldest is already grown, turning 18, while our youngest just celebrated his fourth birthday.
We met long ago when we were both students. We were applying to the same medical school and noticed each other right away.
For the first year, we were just dating, helping each other out. Life wasn’t easy—we had both moved to the capital from small towns, and our parents weren’t wealthy, so we couldn’t rely on much support. We tackled every challenge that came our way together. Then we realized we couldn’t bear to be apart, even for a single day. In our final year of university, we got married. There was no grand celebration—we were scraping by on our scholarships, which were never enough.
I sewed myself a simple, light dress, and he wore jeans and a t-shirt. We picked wildflowers from a field, walked to the registry office, and later celebrated just the two of us at a small café. But we were so happy, convinced the world was ours to conquer. For the last year of our studies, we lived in a shared dorm room for married couples.
We saved every penny and studied late into the night to earn our degrees. After graduation, we rented an apartment. Then came the grueling years of residency.
In total, we lived in rented apartments for nearly a decade. Together, we climbed out of poverty, supporting and uplifting each other through every hardship. Only later did we land good jobs, build careers, and finally escape financial struggles. We bought a nice apartment, a car, and eventually a large house in the suburbs.
No relationship is perfect, of course. Dark clouds began to gather over our family. I never had a habit of checking my husband’s phone because I always trusted him completely.
But one day, he left his phone at home when he went to work. It kept ringing incessantly, so I finally picked it up. I answered the call, and before putting the phone down, I saw a photo of my husband with some unfamiliar woman and two young boys. Below the picture were tender comments from her. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I was beside myself all day, unable to wait for him to come home from work. When he did, I confronted him about what I’d seen. To my utter shock, he didn’t even try to deny it. As it turned out, my beloved husband, with whom I’d shared so many years, had another family. I couldn’t even fathom that he’d cheat on me, let alone have an entire second life with another woman and two children, the youngest not even a year old.
You know what was the most horrifying part of our conversation? He didn’t show a shred of remorse. He said he didn’t see the problem, claiming that “hundreds of families live like this” and that it wasn’t a big deal. He had no intention of apologizing, justifying it by saying that practically every man has a woman on the side. Even worse, he blamed me for finding the evidence of his betrayal. He made it sound like I shouldn’t have looked at his phone and learned things I “didn’t need to know.” Can you imagine?
I always thought it took a lot to rattle me because I’m a strong woman. But this blow caught me off guard, and the ground seemed to vanish beneath my feet. How am I supposed to live with this man now? I can’t forgive him. I suggested we divorce and told him to go live with his other family. But he said he has no intention of living with that woman and wants to stay with me.
However, he refuses to cut ties with his other children and plans to keep visiting them. For the sake of our children, I agreed to preserve our marriage. But I can’t help how I feel—I don’t want to talk to him. We still live together, but in reality, we’ve become strangers.
I don’t know how to move forward.
0 Comment