Some say betrayal is like drowning you don’t realize how deep you’ve sunk until you try to breathe.
For years, my husband Matt and I had been “trying” for a baby, but he kept missing fertility appointments, always with an excuse. Work. Timing. Money. Meanwhile, I worked late nights, took more business trips, and shouldered the bills, thinking we were building a future together.
Then, during a big trip to Denver, I closed a huge deal and decided to surprise him by coming home a day early. The first thing I noticed was a small pink bike leaning against our porch. Matt froze when he saw me and rushed to steer me away from the guest room, claiming it was crammed with “storage.” That’s when I heard a giggle.
I opened the door to find a makeshift play area stuffed animals, snacks, and a little girl with bouncy curls. “Hi,” she said, “are you the evil witch?” My heart stopped. Matt admitted she was his daughter from a fling years ago a child he’d been hiding from me while I’d been breaking myself to start a family with him.
The next morning, his belongings were boxed on the porch, the locks changed, and divorce papers waiting. Because while I had been fighting to swim toward the life we planned, Matt had been dragging me under with lies. And I was finally ready to breathe again.