Off The Record
My Husband Left Me For My Best Friend After I Miscarried — But He Didn’t Expect To See Me Like This
I sought solace from my best friend when my hubby began to behave aloof. I was overanalysing things, she said. As it happens, I wasn’t. However, three years later, I was fortunate enough to witness firsthand the fallout from their treachery.
I used to believe that betrayal only happened to other people, the kind that you hear whispered at dinner parties or read about in dramatic Reddit threads. Not to me. Not to us.
Michael and I created a life together for five years. It wasn’t ostentatious, but it was ours—coffee runs on Sunday mornings, movie nights on the couch, and inside jokes that only we understood.
Anna, my best friend from high school and my sister in all but blood, was there through it all. She had been at my side as my maid of honour, holding my hands and shedding tears of joy on every significant occasion, including my wedding day.
I therefore believed that being pregnant was merely another phase of our ideal life.
Then Michael changed.
It was minor at first—the way he stayed at work a bit longer, the way his eyes stopped smiling. Then things worsened. He hardly gave me a glance. Discussions devolved into one-word answers. On certain evenings, he would turn over in bed with his back to me, as if I weren’t there.
I didn’t comprehend. I was worn out, very pregnant, and desperately trying to mend whatever had broken inside him.
I then looked at Anna.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” I sobbed into the phone at midnight, curled up in the dark while Michael slept beside me, oblivious. “It’s like he’s already gone.”
“Hel, you’re overthinking,” she murmured. “He loves you. It’s just stress.”
I wished to trust her.
However, I was exhausted by the strain of it all—the restless nights, the ongoing worry, the painful loneliness in spite of my marriage.
Then I woke up one morning with a dull stomach ache. In the evening, I found myself in a hospital, looking at a doctor’s moving lips without actually hearing what they were saying.
No pulse.
No, sweetie.
It’s expected that grief will come in waves. It was like an avalanche to me.
I was devastated by the miscarriage, but Michael? He had already left. In the hospital, he sat next to me, silent and icy, his hands never touching mine. No hushed words of comfort. No heartbroken excuses. Not grieving for the child we lost, just a man who appeared to be waiting for a bus.
I believe he had been practicing the words for weeks before he finally pronounced them a month later.
“I’m not happy anymore, Helena.”
That was it. No feeling, no justification. A flimsy excuse.
There was no disagreement the day Michael went. It wasn’t a furious altercation filled with yelling and tears. No, it was considerably colder.
“I’m not happy anymore, Helena.”
The weight of those words pressed like a rock against my chest as I blinked at him across the kitchen table.
“What?” My voice broke.
With a groan, he massaged his temples as if I were the issue. “I simply It’s not the same for me. This has been the case for some time.”
Some time.
I took a deep breath. “Since the baby?”
He clenched his jaw. “It’s not about that.”
The deception was nearly comical.
As I looked at him, I waited for something—guilt, regret, something. But instead of looking at me, he just sat there.
“That’s it, then? You’re just… done after five years?” Under the table, my hands balled into fists.
He sounded almost bored as he exhaled. “I don’t want to fight, Helena.”
I let out a shaky laugh, the kind that comes when you’re on the verge of breaking. “Oh, you don’t want to fight? That’s funny because I don’t remember getting a say in any of this.”
He picked up his keys and got to his feet. “I’ll be staying somewhere else for a while.”
He slammed the door and walked out before I could speak.
My dearest buddy Anna arrived shortly after. Throughout it all, she had been my pillar of support and my lifeline. However, she stopped returning my calls one day. No one read my mails. Then all of a sudden—blocked. On everything. Facebook, Instagram, and even my phone number. She seemed to have disappeared from the world.
I didn’t comprehend. Until I did.
It was my mother who found out first. She called me one evening, her voice hesitant. “Helena, sweetheart… I need you to check something.”
I received a link to Anna’s Instagram from her.
And there they were.
Anna and Michael. Arms encircling each other as if they had been in love for years, they laughed on a sunny beach. Her head tipped back in laughter as his lips touched her temple.
I shivered as I scrolled down. Week after week, picture after picture. Candlelit evenings by the fire, trips to ski slopes, and dinners at fancy restaurants. While I was still legally married to him, she had been publicly and freely sharing them.
I felt like acid being scorched by the betrayal. However, they were gravely incorrect if they believed that I would crumble and disappear.
I used my suffering to gain strength. Too engrossed in his fantasy to hide his tracks, Michael was careless. Unquestionably, the evidence of his infidelity served as legal support for our divorce. Ultimately, I left with the house, half of his money, and the knowledge that he would have to start over.
I trusted him. I accepted what was due to me.
It was difficult to start over. On some nights, I stayed up wondering if I would ever feel complete. If I ever fell in love again.
However, resilience is rewarded in life.
I met Daniel a year later.
Not only did he differ from Michael, but he was everything that Michael was not. Good-natured and attentive. When I talked to him about my background, he never made me feel like I was too much. When I informed him about Michael and Anna’s betrayal and my miscarriage, he simply gathered me in his arms and muttered, “You deserved so much better.”
And I believed it for the first time in a long time.
The two of us created a life. Not a contrived Instagram fantasy, but a real one. And shortly after, a gorgeous little girl with my eyes and his grin entered the world. The joy that had been robbed from me was at last mine.
Then, one evening, I received the most delightful sort of resolution from fate.
I stopped at a petrol station on my way home from work, excited to see my spouse and daughter. The neon lights flickered and buzzed softly in the still night, and the location was almost deserted.
I noticed them at that point.
Anna and Michael.
However, the air of carefree joy, the picture-perfect trips, and the luxury clothes were all gone. Their car was a complete mess, corroded, dented, and barely alive. As Anna adjusted the small bundle in her arms, her face contorted in frustration, the sound of a baby’s sobs rang out through the air.
Michael swiped his card while standing at the counter. Once. Twice.
Refused.
With a moan, he combed through his dishevelled hair. He yelled, “Just try it again,” at the clerk.
“Sir, I’ve tried it three times.”
Hissing to herself, Anna rushed towards him. “Are you serious? We don’t even have money for petrol.”
Michael mumbled, “I told you things are tight,” “Maybe if you stopped spending so damn much—”
“Oh, I’m the problem?” She retaliated by bouncing the wailing infant in her arms. “Maybe if you kept a damn job instead of flirting with cashiers—”
Gritted, “That’s not what I was doing,” he said.
Anna chuckled bitterly. “Yes. You ‘weren’t’ cheating on Helena, aren’t you?”
I suppressed a smile. There is beauty in karma.
As the petrol station clerk returned his useless card, Michael groaned in frustration. “Unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” Anna said abruptly as she moved the infant around in her arms. “It’s unbelievable. You promised that things would improve.”
“Oh, and you’re just so perfect?” He sneered. “Maybe if you hadn’t maxed out every damn credit card—”
She growled, “Are you kidding me?” “I gave up everything for you!”
I could hardly stop laughing as I watched from the shade of my automobile.
As their stalled-out junker blocked the pump, horns honked. Finally, a couple of irritated drivers rolled their eyes and got out.
One person said, “Need a push, man?”
Michael’s jaw tightened. “Yes. In any case.”
Anna stood red-faced and tired, jiggling a screaming baby on her hip as the guys pushed the rusting heap aside.
Michael kicked the tyre. “This is your fault, you know.”
Anna chuckled bitterly. “My fault?” Her eyes blazed as she turned to face him. “You want to know the truth, Michael?”
His arms were crossed. “Oh, this should be good.”
She laughed without humour. “I think Helena got the better end of the deal.”
I then put my car in drive and drove home, where I was quite happy.
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