Off The Record
I Came Home From Chemo To Find My Husband Kissing Another Woman—A Day Later, He Was Begging Me To Forgive Him
On our couch, my husband was kissing his mistress as I returned home from chemotherapy. After making fun of me, he gave me an hour to go “with nothing.” However, karma had other ideas, and he would discover the true meaning of “nothing” in a day.
I was barely able to climb those front steps with my legs. That’s what three rounds of chemotherapy would do. I was still wearing the hospital wristband, which served as a constant reminder of what I had been battling.
“Don’t worry, honey,” my husband Leo had assured me that morning. Just concentrate on improving. “Everything will be handled by me.”
I trusted him. Why wouldn’t I, after five years of marriage? A huge error.
It was easy to turn the key in the lock. Actually, too easily. During the day, Leo typically kept the chain fastened. However, a gentle tune permeated our living room that day. The kind we listened to on Sunday mornings while gently dancing in our kitchen.
For a moment, my heart was lifted. Perhaps he had a delightful surprise in store for me when I got back.
Then I caught sight of them.
On our couch, my spouse was entangled with another woman. Their lips met in a passionate kiss that I hadn’t experienced in months, and they were both completely clothed yet wrapped around each other like teenagers who believed they ruled the world.
“Leo, what is… Oh my God…” My voice broke like a piece of glass.
He gently turned to face me. His eyes were devoid of panic or embarrassment. Just annoyance, like if I had interrupted his favorite television program.
“Didn’t expect you back so early.” Without haste, he untangled himself from her. “Let’s keep this easy while you’re here. You have an hour to get your belongings and head out.”
The room whirled around me. “What? But you said you would look after me. You cursed.”
“I’ve had enough of seeing a sick wife! Playing nurse is not why I married you. To live my life, I got married to you. Additionally, I won’t waste any more time on a sick woman like you.”
The woman next to him burst out laughing, as if my suffering were a personal joke.
“Did I get that right, Betty babe?” With a smile I thought was mine alone, Leo turned to face her.
Betty. She therefore had a name. While I struggled for my life, she had been in my home, on my couch, robbing my husband.
“You’re absolutely right, honey.” False sweetness oozed from Betty’s voice. “Some women just don’t know when to let go.”
My knees felt like giving out. My eyes were burning with tears. Something else, however, was hotter. Leo had never seen anything like that. Fury. Fury, white-hot and pure.
“One hour, Victoria.” Like he was timing a parking meter, he looked at his watch. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Silently, I gathered my grandmother’s jewels, clothes, and pictures. The weight of betrayal, not the chemo exhaustion, made each item feel heavier than the last.
Leo stood in the doorway, watching me. “When we get divorced, you’ll be left with nothing. I own this house. I own the accounts. You ought to have considered that before to becoming ill.”
I straightened my shoulders, zipped my luggage shut, and gave him a direct look.
“We’ll see about that, Leo.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Betty, who was now relaxing on my couch as if she owned it, and I pushed my suitcase past them.
“It means karma has a funny way of evening things out.”
Leo chuckled harshly. “Karma? Victoria, you’re leaving here with nothing but cancer and a bag. What specifically do you hope karma will accomplish for you?”
From the couch, Betty added her voice. “Maybe she thinks some fairy godmother’s going to swoop in and save her!”
I gently said, “Keep talking,” while resting my hand on the door handle. “Time will answer everything.”
“Time?” Leo chuckled. “Your time’s running out, dear!”
I answered, “We’ll see about that,” and walked away.
The hotel room was tidy despite its small size. I opened my laptop while perched on the edge of the bed. I had placed tiny, covert security cameras all over the house years ago in response to a spate of burglaries in our neighborhood. Leo was so busy traveling for work at the time that he was unaware of them.
My heart almost stopped when the security camera app finally launched.
Leo and Betty were captured on camera in our bedroom, the kitchen, and my living room for hours. However, what they were saying was what really infuriated me, not just the affair.
Leo said, “She’ll be gone soon anyway,” over the speakers. “Cancer patients don’t usually last long.”
It was like nails on a blackboard when Betty laughed. “The house and all of her money will then belong to you. You do realize that she has been paying your bills for years?”
“The stupid prenup she made me sign won’t matter when she’s dead.” Leo had a bottle of wine open. My wine. “I’ll pretend to be a distraught widower. Everyone will be sympathetic to me.”
“What if she doesn’t die?”
“I’ll then make sure she understands that she is not welcome here. She’s already been locked out of the joint account by me. There is nowhere for her to go.”
I stopped the recording, my hands shaking with rage rather than weakness. Leo believed he had every card. However, he had overlooked a single element.
My phone kept ringing the following morning. The previous evening, I shared a brief video on the internet of Leo and Betty joking about my disease and how I would “be gone soon anyway.” My family lawyer was even tagged in it. Overnight, the video became viral.
“Victoria, honey, I saw the video.” The tears were in my sister’s voice. “I really apologize. What am I able to do?”
“Nothin’. I’ve got things under control.”
When I called, my lawyer’s voice was clear and businesslike. “Victoria, the prenuptial agreement is extremely clear. He loses his claim to marital property if he cheats while suffering from a serious sickness. You own the house and the accounts. He receives nothing.”
“How long?”
“I can have the papers served today.”
My phone had a thousand alerts by midday. Strangers who shared my contempt flooded in with comments.
“Stay strong, queen.”
“Get that house back.”
“He deserves to rot.”
Then Leo called at 2:00 p.m. “We must have a conversation, Victoria. What did you do?”
“Leo, no. We truly have nothing to discuss.”
That night, he arrived at my hotel by himself, without Betty. Families and business visitors were checking in in the lobby, making them the ideal audience for what was about to happen.
The marble floor was where Leo fell to his knees. His eyes welled up with tears as if he had recently discovered acting. “I apologize, sweetie. I swear I’ll look after you. I’ll recover. Just come home, please. Take that post down. Please.”
Individuals halted their movements, took out their phones, and began to record.
I gazed down at this man who, only twenty-four hours before, had cast me away like trash. This individual had relied on my demise to secure his financial independence.
“You had a wife who would’ve walked through hell for you.” My voice reverberated throughout the lobby. “You shoved me into the fire instead. Burn in it now.”
He was kneeling on the chilly marble floor when I left.
With my strong evidence and unambiguous prenuptial agreement, the divorce proceeded quickly. The moment Leo’s money disappeared, Betty was gone, his reputation was damaged, and his credit was stopped.
I regained my life, the house, and the possessions. Leo received his release, just as he had requested.
But freedom is a funny thing. Rent is not paid when your credit is bad. When your lover leaves with someone who is truly wealthy, it doesn’t make you happy. Furthermore, when the entire internet is aware of your true character, it doesn’t help your reputation.
My strength had returned, my hair was growing back, and I was in remission six months later.
Since no one else would hire him, Leo was working at a car dealership while residing in a studio apartment across town.
I occasionally pass his apartment building because I want to remember that I overcame illness and an unfaithful marriage in the same year, not because I miss him.
The lady who went into that house weak and trusting is not the same woman who came out strong and successful; I have fought two battles and won both.
Leo texted me last week. “I erred. Can we have a conversation?”
Without replying, I removed it.
Because I discovered that you cannot love someone back to sanity, forgive someone out of betrayal, or save a guy who discards his dying wife. However, you have the power to decide for yourself how valuable you are and to create a life free from those who take advantage of your suffering.
That year, I lost my marriage, my hair, and my health, but I gained something far more valuable: my house, my strength, and my self-respect. When I was fighting for my life, Leo organized my burial at the same mansion he believed to be his.
It’s mine now. Financially, legally, and spiritually, I own it.
And I’m reminded of something lovely every morning when I wake up in my room, bed, and home: Sometimes the best retaliation isn’t retaliation at all. It’s simply living well while those who attempted to harm you come to understand that they have instead harmed themselves.
Leo desired his independence. I handed it to him, forever.
What about me? I’m also free. Free from a man who used my condition as a means of getting away. Free from a person who mistakenly believed that my love was his weakness. and free to establish a genuine relationship with a deserving person.
“Karma doesn’t need your help,” I said to my sister last Sunday while we were having coffee. “It just needs time.”
It turned out that the one thing Leo never imagined I’d run short of was time.
Now Trending:
- He Survived the Battlefield… But Nothing Prepared Him For What He Found Inside His Own Home
- My Sister Adopted A Little Girl—Six Months Later, She Knocked On My Door With A DNA Test That Changed Everything
- She Always Complained About My Dog—Then He Ended Up Saving Her Life
Please let us know your thoughts and SHARE this story with your Friends and Family!
