It was my husband Eric’s idea. After his mom Julia fell and needed long-term care, he told me, as if it were praise, “You’re the only person I’d trust with her.” I worked from home, and so I agreed to help — even though she needed help with everything and he offered only occasional support.
For five months I was up early, caring for Julia and juggling work, while Eric gradually became absent. He made promises, then excuses, then just vanished into his office or out of the house. One night, while cleaning up after Julia’s accident, I got a text from my best friend showing Eric at our favorite restaurant laughing and holding another woman’s hand.
I calmly prepared dinner for the kids, went to the restaurant and saw the truth without confronting him. The next day I told Julia Eric had been seeing someone. I arranged a safe care facility for her, rented us a small apartment, and told the kids we were leaving.
Eric didn’t notice we were gone until I returned for our things. He tried to blame everyone else, but I told him I’d spent years caring for his mother, our home, and our kids while he lived a double life. I walked out.
A few days later, we brought peanut butter cups to Julia’s place. She’d disowned Eric and praised me for raising our family. I didn’t get revenge — I just left. And everything Eric cared about walked out the door with me.