“We need sixty cookies, Mom,” my daughter Natasha said. I left the kids and drove to the grocery store. While shopping, a young woman asked if I needed help. “No, thank you,” I said, distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Thomas might be hiding.

After paying, I called Thomas. “Hi, honey,” I said. “Hey, Sierra,” he replied, sounding rushed. “I’m just getting into a meeting. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up before I could respond.

Confused and concerned, I finished my errands and picked up the kids. That evening, after tucking them in, I noticed a note on Thomas’s car while going through the mail. It was from a woman named Jane who had accidentally scratched the car. The note included her number.

I dialed the number the next morning. Jane explained, “I scratched his car last night. I live at 283 Elm Street.” My heart raced. “Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Where exactly was the car parked?”

Jane hesitated. “Right outside my house. There’s a small park across the street.”

Thomas had lied. He wasn’t on a business trip; he was at Jane’s. I needed proof before confronting him. I forced myself to sleep that night.

The next day, after dropping the kids at school, I drove to Elm Street. At Mary’s house, a woman in her thirties answered the door. “Hi, I’m Sierra,” I said. “I believe my husband, Thomas, was with you?”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh, my God. I didn’t know he was married. Please, come in. I’m Mary.”

Mary explained, “He told me he was single. We met a few months ago, but he said work was hectic.”

“Mary, I need evidence for my divorce lawyer. Can you help me?”

A note on a car windshield | Source: Shutterstock

Mary agreed. That evening, she texted Thomas to invite him over for dinner. I dropped the kids off with my mother and drove to Mary’s.

When Thomas arrived, Mary kissed him at the door. I took a photo before stepping out. “Thomas, what is this?” I demanded.

Thomas’s face turned pale. “Sierra, what are you doing here?”

Mary confronted him, “You lied to both of us. And you have children?”

Thomas stammered, “It’s not what it looks like.”

“Save it,” I said, showing him the photos. “I’m ready to file for divorce.”

Thomas tried to follow me, but I brushed him off and left. Over the following weeks, Mary and I became friends, bonded by our shared betrayal. My children grew attached to her, bringing joy back into our lives.

When the divorce papers were signed, I felt a mix of relief and sadness. Thomas moved back in with his parents without fighting for reconciliation. My focus was on healing and rebuilding with my children.

What would you have done?