Behind the Betrayal: When I Found Out He Was Cheating

Paul Whitman suffered a devastating cerebral hemorrhage after a tragic fall. His voice reached out to me, "Yvonne, please, call Scott home at once."

Scott Whitman, my husband, was the brightest star in the neurosurgical department at Zenith Hospital. His hands, skilled and precise, were the only hope to save Paul, his father, from the brink of death.

Yet, when I dialed his number, the scene that unfolded on the other end of the line was far from what I had expected. Scott was engaged in selecting a Valentine's present for his lover, Stella Green.

Scott's voice snapped through the phone, impatience etching every word.

"Yvonne Smith, stop this nonsense. If my father dies, I'll come back immediately!"

Amidst a burst of tinkling laughter, the line went dead, leaving me holding a silent phone and a broken heart.

The next moment, Paul's condition deteriorated rapidly due to anger, and he was wheeled into the operating room for emergency surgery.

When the death notice arrived, my world crumbled further. Meanwhile, Stella updated her social media with a photo of her slightly rounded belly.

The caption read, [I'm pregnant. Scott says I'll take charge of everything from now on!]

Indifference cloaked me as I typed a reply.

[Congratulations. May your baby come soon!]

Beneath it, I added, [Please tell him that I want to divorce him.]

After arranging the funeral, I found myself sitting in the hollow echo of the living room.

Before I could process the grief of losing Paul, Scott replied to my comment.

He habitually maintains his image in front of outsiders.

[There's a limit to jokes. You can't get pregnant, but you still insist on making a scene!]

I pondered, "What? I couldn't get pregnant?"

I burst into laughter.

His words were a mockery, a reminder of the secret I had carried for years. In fact, Scott was born to be infertile, which was detected in a check-up after our wedding. To protect his pride, I had buried the truth, shouldering the blame for our childless marriage.

Unexpectedly, after eight years of marriage, he had betrayed me.

What shocked me more was his callousness towards his own father's life, all for the sake of a fleeting romance and being the father of another man's child.

Fed up, I sent him the digital draft of our divorce agreement.

To my surprise, Scott, who had been absent for months, rushed back that day.

"Yvonne, you're making a mountain out of a molehill!

"Stella was pregnant with my child, but it was an accident. No one expected it!

"Be reasonable. Aren't you the one who can't have children? Just treat Stella as a baby-making machine to an end. It won't affect us."

As he changed into his casual clothes and sat beside me, his arms were wrapped around my waist.

"After so many years of marriage, you don't have to worry about me abandoning you.

"Give me a massage; I've been going non-stop these past few days. My back is killing me."

When Scott came closer, the scent of cheap perfume assaulted my senses, making me feel sick.

I pulled away, and my face paled as I fetched a glass of water.

He mistook my pallor for hypoglycemia, his brows arching in concern.

"Without me cooking for you, has your anorexia relapsed?"

He kept teasing me and lacked guilt for cheating on me as if cheating was as natural as breathing.

I rubbed my stiff face and responded indifferently.

"You've been busy taking care of Stella in bed these days, haven't you?

"Do you enjoy being betrayed so much?"

Scott frowned, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

"Yvonne, you're being endlessly jealous. First, you lied about an ancient remedy to make you pregnant. Now, you're accusing Stella of cheating on me. Do you think I have infinite patience?"

"So, this is why you blocked me for a week and ignored our family?

"Do you know you missed the most important person in your life?"

I couldn't bear the agony in my heart and shouted hysterically.

Grief and hatred surged in my heart, and I found myself whispering comfort to my own soul, insisting that I should not let such a jerk ignite my fury.

However, the one I lost was not only Scott's father but also a man who offered me fatherly love. Deep down, I took Paul as my father!

If Paul hadn't been determined to seek justice for me and Scott, how could Paul have stumbled and fallen?

"Yvonne, that's enough. Stella and I have been nothing but innocent, save for that sex once.

"She's ten years younger than you, and I just met with her. Isn't it normal to celebrate a festival together?

"You went off with a troupe of men on Valentine's Day, and did I complain? I merely spent Valentine's Day with a girl. What's the harm in that?"

I pulled out my phone, navigating to Stella's YouTube account, where the evidence of their four-year affair was laid bare.

The most recent video, posted on Valentine's Day, depicted Stella in a skimpy bikini, her arms wrapped around Scott in a hotel suite's swimming pool.

With each extremely pretty photo, anyone could tell what would happen next.

"What kind of festival needs bikinis?"

Scott's eyes darted to the screen, a flicker of guilt crossing his features before he masked it with a facade of defiance.

"Just because of an accident, you're suspicious. You won't believe my sincere love for you no matter what I say."

His words were a mockery of sincerity.

How could he be worthy of talking to me about sincere love?

My contemptuous demeanor seemed to ignite a fire within Scott.

"What kind of good thing are you? You hid the fact that you were infertile before getting married!

"I have been devoted to you for so many years!

"What qualifications do you have to be dissatisfied?"

The words tumbled out without thought, and though he appeared to regret them, his stern demeanor remained unyielding.

I closed my eyes, the sadness enveloping me like a shroud.

For years, I had shielded him to preserve his dignity so hard that I even coaxed him to join me in taking medicine, hoping to cure his infertility for us to conceive a child. And this was how he saw me.

"Scott, let's get divorced," I whispered.

He was oblivious to his father's passing, his return marked only by his anger over Stella.

There was no way forward for us, only a path littered with the debris of shattered love.

"Yvonne, you really put on a good show!"

He sneered, flipping through the divorce agreement with a dismissive flick of his wrist.

The more he read, the deeper the furrow in his brow grew.

"When did you prepare such a detailed agreement?"

I replied to him coldly.

"It's none of your business."

The truth was, if not for Paul's profound kindness, my marriage with Scott would have crumbled long ago.