I could barely make it up the steps. Three rounds of chemo had drained me. The hospital wristband on my wrist reminded me of the battle I was fighting.
That morning, Leo had promised, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.” After five years of marriage, I believed him. Big mistake.
The door opened too easily. Leo usually kept the chain on, but today, soft music played. I thought he might’ve planned something sweet. Then I saw them.
Leo was on the couch, kissing another woman. My heart shattered.
“Leo, what is this?!” My voice cracked.
He barely looked up. “Didn’t expect you so soon.” He untangled himself and added, “You’ve got an hour to pack.”
“I thought you promised…” I could barely speak.
“I’m done playing nurse,” he snapped. “You’re sick, and I’m not wasting any more time on you.”
The woman, Betty, giggled. “Some women just don’t know when to let go,” she sneered.
I packed in silence, each item heavier, not from chemo but betrayal. Leo stood in the doorway, watching.
“You know the prenup says you get nothing when we divorce,” he sneered. “This house is mine.”
I looked him in the eye. “We’ll see about that.”
Later, I watched hidden footage from cameras I’d installed years ago. Leo and Betty had been plotting. “Cancer patients don’t last long,” Leo said. “I’ll be the grieving widower.”
I posted a clip online, tagging my lawyer. It went viral. By morning, my lawyer confirmed the prenup voided Leo’s claims—infidelity during illness meant he got nothing.
Leo called, begging. But it was too late.
The next day, he showed up at my hotel, crying. He dropped to his knees. “I’m sorry, baby. Please come home.”
People recorded. I stood tall. “You pushed me into the fire. Now burn in it.”
The divorce was swift. Leo lost everything, and Betty disappeared.
Six months later, I was in remission, my hair growing back, my strength returning. Leo was working a dead-end job, living in a small apartment.
I don’t drive by to remember him, but to remind myself that I survived cancer and a cheating husband in the same year.
Leo texted, asking to talk. I deleted it.
I may have lost my health, my hair, and my marriage, but I gained my self-respect, my strength, and my house. And every morning, I wake up free, a reminder that sometimes, the best revenge is living well.
Karma didn’t need my help. It just needed time, and Leo never realized that.