Caught Them Cheating, Now What?

　　"Your husband is cheating on you."

　　These words slashed through the tranquillity of my life like a jagged blade, numbing me. I stared at the phone as if it were an alien to me. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as if it would suddenly pop out. My breath caught in my throat, and I struggled to breathe air into my lungs as the world around me faded into a dull hum.

　　Was this a joke?

　　A sick prank?

　　I did not find it funny in the slightest.

　　Sitting on the sofa, I was sure my legs would give way if I had been standing up.

　　How could this be true?

　　James, my loving husband of five years, the man with whom I had shared everything, I had given up my dreams for him. He swore he loved me and would always honour our vows in sickness and health. How could someone so caring, loving, and sweet be an unfaithful, sneaky husband? How could he betray my trust that way?

　　No.

　　It could not be accurate. Whoever had sent that message must be sick with jealousy at our happy life together. I did not want to believe that James would be capable of such a ludicrous thing.

　　But then my phone buzzed again with another message from the unknown sender—this time, it was a photo. I held my breath as I studied it carefully. It was blurry, but I could recognise my husband's figure. He was walking into a hotel with a young, beautiful woman and acting intimately with each other. I felt the anxiety and unease creep in further, squeezing me tighter. Maybe there was a mistake? Could it be a misunderstanding?

　　That is when the doubt started to creep in, and pieces of the puzzle came together: the late nights here and there and the increased rush to get out the door for work in the mornings.

　　"You must be busy at work, my love." I dared to glance across the table at my husband as he scoffed down his food. I wanted to know how his day had been, but he shrugged it off like it was no big deal.

　　"Just a lot going on. It's nothing." he set his plate aside and picked up his phone.

　　I forced a smile and looked away. I wanted to trust him, but the intrusive thoughts invaded my mind again. I wanted him to reassure me that everything was alright and that I had no reason to worry. But, he muttered something about work and got up without acknowledging me or thanking me for spending hours slaving away in the kitchen preparing his favourite meal. I sighed and rested my elbows on the table, thinking about how things had come to this. Why was he not being honest with me? I wanted to run after him, grab his phone and demand answers. I should have asked him who the woman was and what he was doing acting that way with her. Would I be strong enough to hear it from his mouth? Something held me back. I could not go in all guns blazing. That was not the right way to go about it; I knew he would deny it anyway. I needed proof, solid proof.

　　One evening, about a week after receiving that text, I was preparing dinner and wondering when he would arrive home. It made me anxious to know how things had changed over the last month, his lack of interest in me, and how he treated me like I was not worthy of his time. Yet, I was still playing the dutiful wife, cooking his meals, washing his clothes and remaining loyal to his side.

　　I was surprised to hear a key in the door. James stood in the doorway, holding his briefcase, and looked around before focusing on me. I had two glasses in my hand while I lay the table, ready for dinner.

　　"Why isn't the meal ready yet?" he asked abruptly, throwing his suitcase across the room. I gasped as it almost collided with my foot, and it took all my strength not to drop the glasses.

　　His words sliced through me, and I blinked a couple of times, wondering if I had heard him correctly. "I, well, I thought you would be home later," I stuttered, realising how unsteady my voice sounded. James had never spoken to me that way, making me extremely uneasy. "Have you been feeling tired lately, James? I feel like you always come home late and more stressed out nowadays." I carefully placed the glasses on the table and dared to look back his way.

　　I could have sworn he glared at me disgusted, but then he chuckled lightly as if I had just cracked a joke. "You worry too much, Mia. It is just work; you know how seriously I take it. I am not a slacker. But, I would have thought that dinner would be ready for my arrival home." He raised an eyebrow and spoke with a hint of sarcasm. "Yes, of course I will do better." I swallowed hard, refusing to let the tears brim in my deep blue eyes, and quickly served dinner before he could complain about me further.

　　James cleared his throat and sat himself at the table; he did not even mutter a thank you when I placed a steaming plate of lasagne in front of him and poured him a glass of red wine. I felt my cheeks burned with humiliation when he stuck his nose at how I clumsily spilt a little red wine. "Just eat, for goodness sake. Mia, what's gotten into you lately? Can I not eat my food in peace?" He grunted crossly, causing me to flinch as I slid into my seat opposite him.

　　Just then, my phone buzzed, and I was surprised to see another message from this unknown sender: "Can we meet tomorrow? I need to talk to you."

　　I had no time to think of an answer when I suddenly received another message: "If you want to know more, we can talk. I am your husband's lover's fiance."