“Seriously? We’ve been married ten years! What mistress? Ive got my hands full with you!”
Valerie couldnt shake the feelingsomething was off. She just *knew* in her bones that her husband was cheating. The uncertainty gnawed at her until she finally worked up the nerve to ask him outright.
“Is it true or not?”
He laughed it off. “What? Weve been married ten years! What mistress? Youre more than enough for me!”
Mark sounded sincere, his smile easy, his eyes steady. Nothing about him seemed offbut still, her gut wouldnt let it go.
Val wasnt the type to leave things to chance. She *had* to know the truth. After scrolling through endless online advice, she decided to check his phone first. Nothing suspiciousjust a few harmless chats with old schoolmates. No secret flings, no hidden messages. Not even a lock screen. “Whats to hide?” he always said. Practically an angel.
Sometimes she wondered if she was imagining it allbut then hed come home late from work again, and that sinking feeling would return.
Her best mate, Emily, rolled her eyes. “Youre overthinking it! Mark adores youhed never stray! Youre sabotaging your own marriage!”
But Val ignored her. Her instincts screamed otherwise, and she refused to share her husband.
One day, she even stormed into his office to catch him in the act. Instead, he was livid. “Embarrassing me in front of my colleagues?” She spent ages apologising, and he forgave her quickly enough.
By all appearances, their life was perfect. A lovely home in Surrey, two kids, financial comfort. But Val? She was determined to stir up trouble.
As they sayseek and ye shall find. Only, she hadnt. Yet.
At thirty, with two kids, the fear of losing everything haunted her. Outwardly calm, inside, she was a storm.
No lipstick on his collar, no strange perfumes, no sudden lifestyle changesbut *something* wasnt right.
If not for sheer luck, she might never have uncovered the truth.
When their youngest started Year 1, Val decided to learn to drive. Nights after work, she took lessons. Three months later, she passed her test. Mark was so proud he bought her a cara tiny Fiat, perfect for her petite frame.
(Though hed never admit it, he *also* bought it so she wouldnt ask to drive his Audi. “You need more experience first,” he told her.)
One weekend, she woke early, planning to bake their favourite chicken and aubergine pie. Butno flour. Freezing outside, snow piled high, but shed mastered winter driving. A quick trip to Tesco wouldnt hurt.
Except her car wouldnt start. Back inside, the house was still asleep. She tiptoed, not waking anyone.
Walking in the cold? No thanks. Shed “borrow” Marks carjust a quick trip. Hed never know.
Keys in hand, she scraped ice off the windscreen and reached into the glovebox for tissues. Something clattered to the floor.
A phone. But whose?
Not Marksshe knew his. This one was unfamiliar. Her stomach dropped. Maybe hed picked it up by mistake? But then her thumb hit the power button.
The first thing she saw? A text from *Sophie*.
“Missing you, love! Come over soonI cant wait!”
Vals breath caught. No passcode. She scrolled.
Message after message. A *lifetimes* worth.
Turns out, Mark “finished work at five” but didnt come home till seven. Every. Single. Day. An hour with *Sophie* first.
The photos showed a woman in her forties. What did he even *see* in her?
Vals hands shook. She was about to storm back inside when Mark stepped out of their house.
Shed left a note: “Gone to Tesco.” Hed seized the chance to text *Sophie*.
Now it all made sensehis nightly “errands” to the car. “Forgot my wallet,” “left my phone.” Always quick. Always innocent.
Mark spotted her in his Audi. “Who said you could drive this?”
Fury boiled over. Seatbelt on, reverse gearshe slammed the accelerator. The car lurched into the fence behind her. A small relief.
She jumped out, glaring. “Go to *her* then! Lets see how much she wants you without your house, without your car! Get out of my sight!”
For emphasis, she hurled his keys into a snowdrift and marched home.
The boys were awake, confused. Minutes later, Mark tried the door. Val locked it.
“Go to *her*! Dont come back!” she shouted.
In slippers and a dressing gown, Mark trudged to Sophieshoping for warmth, for comfort.
But the door opened to a mans voice inside. “Hurry up, love!”
Turns out, Sophie only saw Mark on weekdays. Weekends? She had *another* man.
She gave him a guilty look and shut the door.
Defeated, Mark dragged himself to his mums house two streets over.
Margaret took one look and understood. She fed him, listened to his tale of the “crazy wife” whod kicked him out over nothing, and patted his shoulder.
“Dont worry, love. Who knew Val would turn out like this? Your luck will changeyoure only thirty-five! Youll find love again.”
So Mark stayed with Mum, ready to “start fresh”until Val filed for child support. Then reality hit. New beginnings werent so simple.
At least he still had his mum. Without her? Hed have been truly lost.
