Off The Record
My Husband Took Our Baby Out Every Night — When He Forgot His Phone, I Followed And My Heart Shattered
My husband appeared to understand that I was fatigued from being a mother. He took our kid for a stroll every night so I could unwind, and it seemed like a kind gesture. I had faith in him. He lost his phone one night, so I returned it by his regular path, only to discover it wasn’t normal at all.
Six months ago, I gave birth to Caleb, our newborn son. Being a mother was both lovely and cruel at the same time, and it hit me like a freight train. My chest hurt because of the restless nights, the never-ending anxiety, and the overwhelming love. My husband Nate seemed to be my rock thru it all.
He commented, “You look exhausted,” as he came in from work one evening. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and untied his tie. As I bounced a cranky Caleb on my hip, he planted a kiss on my forehead.
“That obvious, huh?” My attempt at laughter sounded more like a sigh.
“Here, let me take him.” Caleb instantly settled on his father’s chest when Nate grabbed for him. “I’ve been thinking, actually. Monica, you never get a break. Every night, how about we go for a walk? You would have some alone time as a result.”
Startled, I blinked. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” He had a sincere smile. “You’re worthy. I also miss spending daytime time with the little boy.”
I was thankful for my considerate spouse that evening as I listened to the peaceful house while taking a nice bath for the first time in months.
“How was your walk?” When they got back, with Caleb soundly asleep in the stroller, I questioned.
Nate’s eyes glowed. Fantastic. Fantastic. This need to become our thing.
I answered, “I’d like that,” as my chest began to warm up.
So it started. Nate would take Caleb out in his stroller every evening at 6:30. It was a break for me and a brief moment of father-son connection.
This routine went on for weeks. With my phone in one hand and Nate pushing the stroller in the other, I watched from the window as they vanished down the street.
He always came back feeling renewed and full of energy. Way too refreshed, really.
“You really enjoy these walks, don’t you?” One night as he put a sleeping Caleb in his crib, I asked.
“Best part of my day,” he said, avoiding eye contact.
I hesitated at something in his voice, but I ignored it. This was the version of my husband that I wanted to believe in—the loving parent and the thoughtful spouse.
I said, “I’m glad,” as he walked out of the nursery, keeping an eye on his back.
Then that dreadful day arrived. It was a typical Wednesday that would have a profound impact.
When Nate’s phone buzzed on the kitchen counter, he and Caleb had just left. The name of his boss appeared on the screen when I picked it up.
I murmured, “He forgot his phone,” and reached for my coat. “I could catch up to them… they couldn’t have gone far.”
Halfway down the block, I spotted them and slipped out the front door. I hesitated for a moment before yelling. That intuition… the voice that warns when anything is amiss. I therefore followed from a distance.
I thought Nate always turned toward the park, but he didn’t. Rather, he made his way downtown, effortlessly maneuvering the stroller through the nighttime bustle.
He pulled up in front of a coffee shop I had never been to. As I observed him look at his watch and look around the street, I slowed down.
Then she showed up, a tall, beautiful brunette. She moved with assurance, and seeing Nate made her smile more.
She straightened up and gave my husband a cheek kiss after bending down to coo at my baby.
My body heated up and then cooled down. My feet felt as though the sidewalk was tilting.
As if they’d done this a hundred times, they strolled inside together, her hand casually resting on the stroller handle next to Nate’s.
I said to myself, “That can’t be what it looks like,” despite the knots in my gut.
That night, I refrained from confronting him. When he came back, I put his phone where he had left it and acted like I was sleeping. I had to be certain.
“Did you have a nice walk?” I pretended to be sleepy as I inquired.
He unbuckled Caleb and murmured, “Same as always,” without raising his gaze. “The park was nice.”
I nearly questioned what I had witnessed because the falsehood came out of his mouth so effortlessly.
Despite the hurricane in my chest, I managed to say, “That’s nice,” in a firm voice.
I lay next to him that night, observing his sleeping face and counting his breaths. Was I married to this same man? Had I known him at all? Was he unfaithful to me?
“What are you hiding from me?” I said, and all I got in return was the gentle cadence of his breathing.
The following night, I purposefully followed him once more. I informed him that I needed to take a nap and observed him meeting the same woman at the same location while hiding behind a newspaper.
This time, they sat at a table outside. Her laughter and the way her fingertips brushed Caleb’s little hand were visible to me. Nate smiled more broadly than I had seen him grin at home in months as he leaned in close to her.
Within me, something solidified.
No more speculating. No more uncertainty. I knew just how to acquire the truth, and I needed it.
“Slept well?” When I came out of the bedroom that night, acting as though I had just woken up from a nap, Nate asked.
Lying, “Like a rock,”
When Nate departed for work the next morning, I rushed to the downtown toy store. I purchased a plastic baby doll that was about Caleb’s size and remarkably lifelike. Even I thought my approach was absurd, but there was no other way to learn the facts.
When I got home, I put the doll in the stroller, draped it in Caleb’s favorite blanket, and concealed a tiny baby monitor behind the plush toy next to it.
Tucked away in our bedroom, the real Caleb remained with me. Fortunately, when Nate went home and prepared for his daily stroll, he was sound sleeping.
He simply took the handle and left without even checking the stroller.
I cried out, “Enjoy your walk,”
He raised his hand in recognition. “We always do.”
After five minutes of waiting with my heart pounding, I followed, holding the receiver in my sweaty palm.
Outside the coffee shop, they were seated at the same table. The woman, whose beauty made my postpartum body feel like someone else’s, leaned forward and entwined her fingers with my husband’s.
I stood behind a nearby planter, turned up the receiver’s volume, and listened.
“Are you sure this is okay?” Through the speaker, her voice crackled. “I feel guilty.”
I didn’t breathe.
“It’s fine,” explained Nate. She has no suspicions at all. She’s too tired from the baby to notice, I told you.
The woman let out a sigh. “I just don’t want to hurt her.”
I shuddered at the sound of Nate’s laughter. “Do harm to her? She is merely my spouse. Caleb was the reason we had to get married. However, you are the person I truly desire.”
Tears clouded my view.
“How long will you continue to act as though you love her? Until Caleb matures?”
“No, sweetheart. Until her grandmother gives her her fortune. She will then reward me financially for being an AMAZING husband. You see? Every evening, I even take a baby for a walk. I’m all but a saint!”
Something broke inside of me. I stood, my body heading toward their table on autopilot, the receiver dropping from my grasp.
I shouted, “Oh, don’t stop on my account,”
Nate’s coffee suffocated him. The woman’s eyes expanded and darted back and forth between us.
“MONICA,” his voice trailed off. “What are you —”
I pulled the stroller’s blanket back, exposing the doll.
“What the hell is this?” Nate gazed at the face made of plastic.
“Interesting question.” I folded my arms. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”
The woman got to her feet. “Nate, you said she knew —”
“Knew what?” I looked over at her. “That my husband cheats on me by using our son as a prop? that he intends to take advantage of me in order to get my inheritance?”
Nate continued, “I can explain,” as he reached for my arm.
I recoiled. “You were forced to wed me? You must have been a dad. Did you tell her that?”
The woman appeared ill, and his face went pale.
“You feel guilty?” I questioned her. “All right. Because you were assisting him in destroying this.”
With a tiny, last clink, I dropped my wedding band down the table after removing it, the emblem of promises now exposed as lies.
I whispered, “I hope you’re happy together,” after saying it. “Because you just lost the best thing you had.”
I turned and strode off, shoulders back and head high, each step guiding me toward an unplanned but prepared destiny.
“Monica, wait!” After me, Nate called.
I didn’t turn around.
The speed at which the divorce was finalized suggests that Nate realized he had been exposed so completely that a battle would only exacerbate the situation. He didn’t fight for the house or dispute possession. With hardly a word, he signed the paperwork and vanished.
My phone rang three months later when I was putting peanut butter on toast for Caleb’s breakfast.
I heard my buddy Mia say, “You won’t believe what I just saw,” over the speaker.
“What’s that?” I wiped Caleb’s sticky fingertips and pushed the phone between my shoulder and ear.
“Your former partner. You caught him outside that coffee shop. Do you know his girlfriend?” “The brunette?”
I stopped. “What about her?”
“She got engaged! To a guy in finance. Nate seemed to be the underdog the entire time. She was standing there appearing bored while he was yelling at her in the middle of the day. I captured it all on camera.”
I ought to have felt validated. Rather, I let out an odd laugh.
“Send it to me,” I responded, unsure if I wanted to see it or not.
Later, I experienced an unanticipated sense of freedom as I watched the silent film of Nate making crazy gestures at a woman who obviously couldn’t give a damn about his sentiments.
I told Caleb, who was playing on the floor next to me, “Your father thought he was so clever,” “But karma doesn’t need directions to find people like him.”
A year went by. Then another. As Caleb matured from a baby to a toddler, his speech increased and his steps became more confident. With a job advancement, new acquaintances, and even a tentative date or two, I gradually put my life back together.
The only time I saw Nate was in the grocery store. He appeared aging and weakened.
He said, “Monica,” his gaze resting on Caleb. “He’s gotten so big.”
The answer was, “Children do that,”
“I’ve been thinking —”
“Don’t.” I interrupted him. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.”
He took a deep swallow. “I made a mistake. Now I am aware of that.”
“Yes, you did.” Caleb was hoisted into the shopping cart by me. The irony is that you didn’t simply lose me. You became someone else.
Nate’s face fell flat. “Can I at least —”
“A cheque for child support can be sent. For once, on time. I shoved the trolley over his head.” “Goodbye, Nate.”
Caleb waved over my shoulder as we walked away. He enthusiastically called, “Bye-bye,” not realizing that the stranger was actually his father.
I didn’t turn around to check if Nate waved back. I didn’t have to. It’s preferable to leave some pages unturned and certain chapters closed. Because the finest retaliation isn’t getting even when someone demonstrates that they are willing to sacrifice love for convenience and use their own child as a pretext for their betrayal. It is proceeding without them.
What about the money I inherited from my grandmother? I entrusted it to Caleb’s schooling. Investments should be made in people who have real futures, not in people who treat relationships like bank accounts they can take money out whenever they want.
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