I’ve been married for five years, having tied the knot at 25, convinced I’d found my true soulmate. My wife was 22 at the time of the wedding—stunning, poised, and well-educated, the kind of woman other guys couldn’t stop staring at. At first, I took pride in it, but over time, their attention started to grate on me. Two years ago, we welcomed twin boys.
Four years ago, my wife and I launched a joint venture—a language school. In our small town, the school quickly turned a profit, and business took off. My wife, with her relevant degree, handled the teaching, while I took care of the managerial side. We were both co-founders. Things were going well—she balanced her classes with raising the kids and managing the household. But then I started getting negative feedback from students complaining about canceled lessons. When I dug into the reasons, my wife admitted she was exhausted and needed a break. It was the start of the school year, but we found a substitute teacher for her. I couldn’t step away from my responsibilities, but I wanted her nearby, so I rented a cottage in the countryside where I could visit with the kids.
My wife, it seems, saw this as a chance to cut loose. That’s the only way to explain what happened next. Four days into her “break,” the boys started begging to see their mom. It all came together unexpectedly—their pleading, an early finish at work—so we headed to the cottage unannounced. As we pulled up, I noticed an unfamiliar car and assumed a friend had come to visit her. But when I stepped inside, I realized it wasn’t a friend. Unmistakable sounds were coming from the bedroom. It was awful, especially since the kids were with me. The boys didn’t understand, of course, but they sensed my mood shift. Leaving them in the entryway, I walked to the bedroom and found my wife—not with one guy, but two.
I was in shock, feeling like the lead in some absurd TV drama or the victim of a cruel prank. My wife started making excuses, claiming she didn’t mean to cheat. Everything after that is a blur.
That marked the end of our marriage. Later, during the divorce proceedings, she admitted she felt she hadn’t lived enough, having married and had kids too young. The boys had become a burden, and family life had grown stale. Her words hit my self-esteem hard, and in the heat of the moment, we hurled plenty of hurtful things at each other. A clean divorce was impossible—we spent over a year battling over the kids and our shared assets. In a fit of anger, I demanded full custody of the boys. She didn’t put up much of a fight, and given my income and financial stability, the court granted me custody. Friends were stunned when the judge also ordered her to pay child support. On top of that, our prenup stipulated that the business, where we were both co-founders, would go to me in a divorce. It made sense—she focused on teaching, while I handled the management. That agreement saved me during the legal battles. Without it, I’d have lost half the company or owed my unfaithful ex-wife.
For humiliating me and trading our family for fleeting thrills, I took everything from her—the kids, the business, even the car I’d given her six months before her betrayal. According to mutual acquaintances, my ex-wife has spiraled—she’s been spotted in clubs with different guys, looking disheveled. She does see the kids, and I’m relieved she at least appears presentable during those visits.
Meanwhile, I’m grappling with the weight of it all: caring for the kids, handling household chores, and running the business. I never realized how much time and money kids require—new clothes, food, doctor’s visits, and more. Maybe my ex-wife’s breakdown really did stem from exhaustion and a craving for something new in her monotonous life. But I still can’t forgive her betrayal.
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