When Sam surprised me with a week-long hotel stay for me and the kids, my gut screamed something was off. He claimed it was “a break” for us, but his twitchy smiles and refusal to join us made me suspect an affair. I told myself I was being paranoid, but the unease wouldn’t let go.On day five, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left the kids with a sitter and drove home to catch him in the act — but instead,
I found my mother-in-law Helen sprawled on our couch, surrounded by shopping bags, sipping tea from my favorite mug. Sam looked pale and guilty, and Helen didn’t even hide her smugness. The air between us was thick with unspoken hostility.That night, I overheard her tearing me apart to Sam — calling me a bad wife and mother — and him quietly agreeing.
That was the final straw. The next morning, I kissed him on the cheek, pretending all was fine, then went straight to a lawyer and the bank. By the time he came home days later, the kids and I were gone. He stood in the empty living room like a man who’d finally realized the cost of his choices.He begged me to return, claiming he’d kicked her out —
but a neighbor told me Helen was still moving in. I laughed, tucked the kids into bed in our new apartment, and told them, “We are home now.” The weight I’d been carrying for years had finally lifted.Sometimes, the “other woman” isn’t a mistress — it’s his mother. And sometimes, the best revenge is leaving them both behind. And in my case, walking away was the happiest ending I could have imagined.