What was it like to find out your husband’s mistress was nine months pregnant? “Lily, let’s have two kids, one boy, one girl. How does that sound?” In my dream, I heard that familiar voice again, so warm and comforting it almost felt like paradise. But when I opened my eyes, the reality hit hard. The dark ceiling above seemed to press down, suffocating me with its weight. Jason Turner, next to me, pulled me closer, his face nestled into my neck, his slow, even breaths brushing against my skin. For a moment, I was still caught between the dream and reality. And then, right on cue, his phone lit up on the nightstand. The password was the day we got married. Just as I thought, it was a message from his lover, Brittany Cole. [Jason, I had my check-up today! Look at the baby’s picture!] Attached was an ultrasound. I could clearly see the fully-formed baby, the tiny, fragile life practically jumping off the screen, leaving a mark I couldn’t erase. This wasn’t the first time I’d stumbled across her texts. Just last week, I saw a message from an unknown number telling Jason she was nine months pregnant. I didn’t say anything then, and by the next day, he had already deleted it. [Still awake?] Jason must have noticed the light from his phone because he stirred slightly, mumbling as he pulled me closer. I turned to look at him. He was still asleep, his arm resting possessively over my stomach, like we were the perfect couple. For a moment, I was lost in thought. Our marriage had been a whirlwind. On paper, Jason was the ideal catch with a great family, successful career, and attractive appearance. Though cold and distant, he was always polite. During our first meeting, he was blunt. He wasn’t interested in love and wouldn’t have even come to meet me if his parents hadn’t pushed him. He made it clear that work came first, and while he couldn’t promise love, he could provide a comfortable life. If that was enough for me, we could go through the motions. It all seemed so perfect at the time. Our families were thrilled, and for the last three years, we had played our roles well. But now, as I lay next to him, his warmth so close, I felt nothing. My hand rested on my chest as I thought back to those three years, and suddenly, it hit me. This life wasn’t what I wanted. The next morning, I woke up like usual, planning to make breakfast, but to my surprise, Jason had already done it. “Come and eat,” he called out casually, his eyes glued to his phone, already immersed in work like nothing had changed. I sat down across from him, watching him for a moment before finally saying, “I want a divorce.” Jason froze mid-scroll, then looked up at me, his brow furrowed. “You went through my phone?” I nodded. “I’ll handle it,” he said flatly, his attention already shifting back to his phone. I kept my gaze on him. “Is there even anything left to handle?” Jason’s expression shifted, and he finally seemed to grasp what I meant. His head snapped up, and he put his phone down, walking over to me. He crouched beside me and took my hand, his voice soft, like he was trying to reason with a child. “Lily, I haven’t seen her since that one time. It was a mistake. I swear.” I just looked at him, saying nothing. Nine months ago, Jason had an affair. It wasn’t some secret that only I knew about. Both of our families had found out. Brittany had sent explicit photos of them together directly to his parents. His mom and dad, being the traditionalists they were, were furious. They didn’t even give me a chance to process anything before dragging both my parents and me into it, publicly shaming him and airing all our dirty laundry. In the chaos, I never really got a chance to feel anger or betrayal. I was too busy being suffocated by everyone else’s expectations. His parents had cried, blaming everything on the shameless mistress, and begged me to forgive him, saying that I should be understanding. My parents weren’t any better. My dad, all serious, kept telling me, “Do you know how hard it is to find a good man with a house, a car, and a steady job? It was just a one-time mistake. Marriage is about compromise.” My mom, with tears running down her face, had gone on a dramatic tirade, saying, “You want a divorce? Are you trying to make me sick with worry? Do you know how embarrassing that would be at your age? Thirty and divorced. What will the neighbors think?” That night, Jason came home looking exhausted, like he’d been through a long lecture from his parents. But when he looked at me, there wasn’t an ounce of guilt on his face. Our marriage had always been more of a partnership than anything else, civil, distant. But that night, it was like something snapped inside him. He held me tight, almost desperately, like he was trying to make up for something. After it was over, he leaned over me, gripping my chin, his voice low and tense. “Lily, let’s be real, this… this is your fault too…” I stared at him, waiting for him to finish. His voice cracked, and instead of continuing, he just pulled me into his arms, whispering in my ear, “I’m sorry, babe. I’m so sorry. I was drunk. I thought she was you. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” It was the first time he’d ever called me intimately, and I didn’t even know how to react. His apologies swirled around me, but all I could hear was the echo of our parents’ voices, telling me to forgive and forget. In some twisted way, I gave in. I even cried that night, but I let it go. The scandal slowly faded, and life went back to normal. If it hadn’t been for Brittany’s pregnancy, no one would’ve remembered what happened. “Are you serious?” Jason’s voice pulled me back to the present. Seeing my silence, he tried to smile, but it was strained, and his breathing became labored. The warmth in his eyes turned cold, sharp. Without warning, he grabbed my shoulders, his grip tight as his voice dropped low, trembling with anger. “Listen to me, Lily. I’m not giving you a divorce. Not now. Not ever. Over my dead body.” With that, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him, leaving me alone in the quiet, empty house.
“Find yourself a husband like Lily’s, tall, handsome, rich, successful, and completely devoted! I’m so envious!” At the company dinner that night, the mood was lively, and the conversation bounced around from topic to topic. Somehow, the discussion turned to me, and one of my single colleagues couldn’t hide her jealousy as she asked how I managed to snag such a great husband. With a slight buzz from the drinks, I smiled and said, “You’ll find your own happiness too.” “Yeah, but will it be as lucky as yours?” they joked, and laughter filled the room. By the end of the night, as we made our way outside, we were greeted by a torrential downpour. While everyone complained about the awful weather, Jason arrived to pick me up. He always looked impressive in his impeccably tailored suit, and tonight was no different. As he got out of the car with an umbrella, he greeted my colleagues with charm and ease, which only made them tease me more. “You’re so lucky, Lily! Your husband even comes to pick you up from work!” “Seriously, we have to watch you two flaunt your relationship while we’re stuck here!” Jason wrapped me in a warm embrace, said his goodbyes, and led me to the car. Once inside, he looked at me with a hint of frustration. “Why did you drink so much?” My head was spinning, and though I heard him clearly, I wasn’t in the mood to engage. When we got home, Jason carefully helped me onto the couch, took off my shoes, and gently washed my face. His movements were a blur, but I forced myself to focus on his figure. The compliments from my colleagues rang in my ears, and I suddenly felt a surge of determination. I reached into my bag and pulled out the divorce papers. When Jason came back with the hangover medicine, I handed him the documents. “I don’t want anything,” I said firmly. “This is the agreement I wrote up earlier.” Jason’s face fell instantly. Without a word, he tore the papers into shreds, his frustration evident. “I told you I’d handle this.” I shook my head. “But Jason, I can’t live like this anymore.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked coldly. “Do you even know what you’ll be giving up if you divorce me?” “I know.” His expression grew more troubled. After a tense silence, he said, “Stop making a scene.” He put the medicine down and tried to feed it to me. I refused and continued, “Jason, when we decided to be together, I genuinely wanted to build a life with you. But now, I just can’t accept this.” He looked at me with a deepening frown, his eyes turning red. We hadn’t had any other major issues besides the affair, and my firmness seemed to unsettle him. He had never shown anger towards me before, and this sudden intensity took me by surprise. I tried to lighten the mood, saying, “Honestly, if you’re with her now, the child won’t be a total outcast.” That seemed to set him off. He slammed the hangover medicine onto the floor and grabbed me by the waist, pressing his forehead against mine. “Lily, is your only reason for wanting a divorce my affair?” A shiver ran down my spine, and I dreaded revisiting the painful past. Jason’s face contorted with rage, veins bulging as he seethed, “I’d tear open your chest just to see if your heart is still in there or if it’s gone with that dead man!” His anger was something I had never seen before. This confrontation was far more intense than I expected. I had anticipated some argument, but his reaction was explosive. Even more surprising was the wounded look on his face as he continued, his voice harsh and mocking, “It’s been three years, and you still can’t forget him. How many times have I heard you call his name in your sleep? Tell me, what right do you have to be disgusted with me? What right do you have to ask for a divorce?”
The buzz from the alcohol had completely faded, and my ears were ringing with the impact of Jason’s words, each one slicing through me like a hot knife. In that instant, my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight. Memories I had desperately tried to bury surged back with overwhelming force. “Don’t know how to answer?” Jason sneered. “You think I don’t know anything? By the second year of our marriage, I already knew about your past. I even found that old newspaper about the firefighter who tragically died. His name was Leo Shaw, your childhood friend! I know all about him!” My mind felt like it was going to explode. Jason might have been expecting me to crumble, but strangely, as I looked at him, I started to feel more composed. I was stunned by his rage, which made me feel like I was the one in the wrong. Just then, his phone rang. “Who’s it?” he snapped as he answered. After listening, his expression softened slightly, and he quickly said he had to leave. After hanging up, he turned his back to me, still brimming with anger. “I’ve got urgent business and need to stay late at the office tonight.” He paused, clenched his fist, and said firmly, “Don’t bring up divorce again.” Feeling helpless, I retreated to our room. Seeing the framed photo on the wall reminded me of when we first met. At thirty, I was entering my tenth year of vacillation, still single since Leo’s death. Despite my friends’ jabs about being a perennial singleton, everyone around me seemed to be getting married and having children who were now even starting school. “Do you think Leo would want you to be alone down here?” During that period of relentless matchmaking pressure, my father’s persistent nagging was like sandpaper against my ear. “Dad, that’s kind of creepy,” I would always joke to brush it off. Leo was like a hidden part of my life, something I kept to myself. It was like when people said someone was still alive in your heart even after they were gone. He used to joke that his job required him to be ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good at any moment. Whenever he said that, I’d get all choked up. He’d tap my forehead with a playful grin and say, “I don’t want to die and leave you to marry someone else. That’s just silly.” It took me years to come to terms with his death. In my heart, Leo never really left, and I avoided thinking about him because those memories were too painful. Eventually, I gave in to the relentless ticking of time and the pressure from family and neighbors, and I started to manage my feelings with a bit more grace. So, when my parents, after attending yet another wedding and dramatically insisting I find someone quickly or face the consequences, demanded I get a move on, I agreed. I remember the day of my blind date with Jason. The cherry blossom tree planted outside my house was in full bloom. Leo loved those blossoms. That tree, right by my bedroom window, was his playground. He’d climb it and jump into my room with his trademark cheeky smile. Since his accident, that tree hadn’t bloomed again. But on the day of my date, not only was it covered in flowers, but it also had an abundance of buds. I felt like maybe this date was going to be different. They say countless women have tried their luck with Jason, but I was the lucky one who clicked with him right off the bat. The matchmaker couldn’t stop gloating about how envious the other women were of me. And honestly, she wasn’t wrong. Jason had a house, a car, a hefty bank account, and a prestigious job as a top lawyer. He’d even achieved financial freedom before most people even started thinking about it. And as if that wasn’t enough, he bought me a brand-new house even before we got married. “When we sign the papers, is it okay if I put only my name on the deed?” he asked, worried I might misinterpret his intentions. I shrugged. “It’s your money.” He grinned with confidence as he signed his name. “It doesn’t matter whose name is on the deed. What matters is that we’ll grow old together in this house.” I smiled back. “Of course.” At that moment, I’d made up my mind to move on from Leo. Although the memories still hurt, I knew I was ready to be devoted to Jason for the rest of my life. Time sped by, and three years of marriage had flown by in a heartbeat. I sighed deeply, thinking about Jason’s explosive anger earlier. I decided to call him. “Jason, Leo has been out of my life for thirteen years.” There was silence on the other end. I continued, “When we got married, I was fully committed to our future. I’m devoted to this marriage.” I just needed him to understand that some things couldn’t be compared. After a prolonged silence, Jason’s voice came through, rough and tired. “Can we just move past this?” “No, we can’t.” I heard him breathing heavily, likely smoking. Whenever he was stressed, he’d sigh heavily and retreat to smoke alone. Eventually, his voice came back, heavy with sadness. “Lily, even though we started this as a partnership, I fell in love with you.” The word “love” felt harsh to me. I replied, “You should focus on your work.” Before he could respond, I ended the call. It was only moments later that I realized he had asked one last question. “What about you?” In my mind, I could easily replay the moments we shared. Our relationship was smooth and loving, like when we first moved into our new house. With both of us busy, we hadn’t had time to clean or organize. His parents suggested I quit my teaching job to take up one of their arranged positions so I could manage the home better. I wasn’t thrilled about the idea, but Jason would come home, shower me with affection, kiss my face, and whisper how much he loved my cooking. “Be good, and accept the arrangement for me.” His affectionate persistence made me give in. “Fine, but my cooking isn’t that great.” He’d playfully tackle me with a teasing grin. “If it’s not good, then I’ll just eat you!” His flirtatious ways were hard to resist. There were countless such moments. He liked me to help him shave, tie his tie, and pick out his clothes. Every little thing was endearing, but I was unsure if I truly loved him. I remember on our second wedding anniversary, someone came by selling insurance. I bought a policy and listed him as the beneficiary. Yes, I tried to love him. But that fragile affection was ultimately shattered by his affair.
This was the first real standoff between Jason and me since we got married. Earlier in the day, I had finished drafting the divorce papers. Just as I was about to send them over, Jason texted, asking me to meet him for lunch at a restaurant near his office. I didn’t refuse. But when I got there and sat down, it wasn’t him waiting for me. Instead, sitting across from me was a young woman with a noticeable baby bump. Her appearance caught me completely off guard. Never in a million years did I expect Jason’s mistress to show up so brazenly. “You know who I am, don’t you?” Brittany spoke first, her voice full of confidence, as if she had every right to be there, like she was the one married to Jason. Honestly, I had only seen her in pictures before, the kind that lived on Jason’s parents’ phone. In person, she looked younger than I imagined. She was just a fresh-faced girl, barely out of college. My eyes lingered on her belly for a split second before I quickly looked away. Brittany lifted her chin, smug and confrontational. “You’ve known about me for a while now. I opened my Twitter just for you, and I know you’ve read my posts.” Every word out of her mouth, every gesture, especially the way she cradled her pregnant belly, was a glaring reminder of Jason’s betrayal. It should have felt like a slap in the face, a reason to fight for what was mine. But strangely, I felt none of that. Months ago, when I first discovered the affair, I was furious, hurt, blindsided. But now, nine months later, I was disturbingly calm. “My family has more money than yours! You think ignoring me will make me go away?” Brittany’s voice grew sharp when she noticed my indifference. She slammed her hand on the table, clearly rattled. “This is all your fault! Now he’s forcing me to get rid of this baby. Do you even care? It’s been nine months! This is a real life we’re talking about, and you’re just standing by, heartless! I hate you!” She was practically shouting, waving her belly in front of me like a badge of honor, trying to pin her problems on me. It was absurd, really. I could see right through her, the cocky bravado of a young woman who thought her youth gave her an edge. She probably believed her age alone made her special, untouchable. But the truth was, I didn’t care. I had no interest in whatever game she was playing or why she came here. I stood up, leaned in just enough to catch her eye, and tapped the table gently in front of her. “Let’s get one thing straight. You’re the mistress here.” To me, she was nothing more than a bad joke, and I’d never had much patience for jokes or for clowns. “Wait, I’m not done yet!” Brittany’s voice trailed behind me as she lunged for my wrist. I wasn’t interested in dragging this out any longer, so I swiftly sidestepped her. She let out a frustrated yelp, but I didn’t bother to turn around. As I made my way to the door, I spotted Jason rushing over, completely out of breath, sweat dripping down his face. The moment he saw Brittany standing behind me, his expression soured. “Jason…” she called out to him softly, her voice trembling as if on the verge of tears. But before she could say anything more, he snapped at her, “Who told you to come here?” It was the kind of messy, public confrontation that Jason had to be dreading. His mistress and wife were meeting face-to-face. What a scene. He couldn’t even look at me. Instead, he strode over, grabbed Brittany by the arm, and tried to drag her away without a word. She resisted, her voice rising in a shaky protest. “What about the baby? You can’t just…” That set off a wave of whispers around the restaurant, and now everyone was staring. Jason’s face darkened with embarrassment as he hissed through gritted teeth, “Shut up!” Brittany fell silent, letting him pull her along as the onlookers continued to murmur. My appetite was long gone. With a sigh, I stood up and made my way out. Jason caught up with me outside, his expression torn between guilt and frustration. He grabbed my arm, his voice urgent. “I was taking her to get rid of the baby. She said she needed time to prepare, so I wasn’t paying attention. That’s when she must’ve gotten into my phone and found out where you were. “I’m sorry. I should’ve handled this better.” His words came out in a rush, panic creeping into his voice. “I’m such an idiot, letting her show up like that. Just give me one day, okay? I swear, she’ll never cross your path again.” He looked genuinely pained, his brow furrowed, exhaustion etched on his face. I believed he meant it, and maybe I should’ve said something in response. But inside, I felt nothing, not even the faintest spark of emotion. It was like I’d gone numb. I wanted to show I was upset or at least give him some kind of reaction, but all I could manage was a sigh. “I’ll send the divorce papers later. I’m going to stay at my parents’ place for a few days.” His expression shifted, frustration taking over as he tightened his grip on my wrist. “Lily, didn’t you hear what I said?” I looked down at his hand, and he noticed, loosening his grip, though he didn’t fully let go. I sighed again, feeling more tired than anything else. “Her social media. It’s all there. I’ve seen everything.” The shock in his eyes was almost comical. He stood there, stunned, as I pressed my lips together, offering him nothing more.
Brittany was right. I knew about her affair with Jason, the whole mess that came up after everyone pushed me to just deal with it. I tried to force myself to forget, so I started surfing the internet. I happened to notice someone had followed my social media account. I had a hunch and clicked on their profile. [I met him during my internship. Even though I knew he was married, a man like him, with all his good qualities, was incredibly tempting to me…] [My first kiss happened after we went out for a business event. I stole a kiss, and he told me not to mention it. Then I pretended to be too drunk to walk, and he carried me. He didn’t refuse, so I knew he had feelings for me…] [The first time we slept together, he was drunk. He kept mumbling about how his wife couldn’t forget her first love and was really upset. I did my best to comfort him that night…] [I know he has a wife, but so what? I’m younger and prettier than she is. If he’s willing to be with me, it means he’s tired of her. I know they were set up by their families. Arranged marriages are never about real feelings…] It was the dead of night, and every word from that post seared itself into my mind. I’d never forget the icy chill that washed over me, the suffocating weight of realizing how hollow my marriage truly was. The betrayal felt like a thorn lodged in my heart, making it impossible to breathe. I laughed bitterly at myself for forgiving Jason, for being placated without a fight, and for nothing about Brittany I found online. When I looked back, Jason was sleeping peacefully on the bed. In that moment, I wanted to wake him up and ask him what it was like with her, where they slept together, how long it lasted, and what he felt facing me afterward. But I didn’t do it. All those thoughts were stuck in the reality where I had made peace with him. The apologies from his parents and the advice from my own felt like a net of curses that trapped me. After that, I occasionally checked Brittany’s social media, but since I reconciled with Jason, she hadn’t posted anything new. I also convinced myself to deactivate my social media account to avoid being further affected. Now, Jason looked deeply shaken by my words. His forehead was lined with veins, and he seemed to age a bit in an instant. His voice trembled as he said, “You’ve always been so kind and understanding. You promised before not to pursue this. Why are you refusing now?” I didn’t know how to answer. He frowned deeply, his gaze steady as he said, “I love you, and I will love only you. I promise no one will treat you as well as I do or give you such a good life. Lily, believe me.” His face was tense, his grip on my hand tightening. I could even feel the sweat on his palms. He leaned in close, his voice soft and soothing like before, “Babe…” At that moment, I realized why I felt nothing. Over the past nine months, I hadn’t truly forgiven him. I was just trapped by those voices, constantly suppressing my feelings until I reached a breaking point. All that was left was numbness and self-healing. I didn’t want to get caught up in his pleading anymore. I said, “Let go. I need to go to work.” He gasped in pain, his eyes red, and reluctantly released me. He pleaded, “Babe, I’ll make this right. Just take some time to calm down.”
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