**Diary Entry**
When my husband left me after the miscarriage, I discovered hed been seeing my best friend. Three years later, I ran into them at a petrol station and couldnt stop smiling.
After he pulled away from me, I found out hed left me for my school friend. Three years passed before fate threw us together again, and there they were, filling up their car while I sat in mine, watching their misery unfold.
When my husband first grew distant, I turned to Emily, my closest friend. She told me I was imagining things. Turns out, she was lying. Fate made sure I saw the consequences of their betrayal with my own eyes.
I used to think affairs only happened in dramatic novels or whispered gossip over Sunday roasts. Not to me. Not to us.
For five years, Oliver and I built a life together. It wasnt extravagant, but it was oursfilm nights on the sofa, Sunday morning coffee runs, jokes only we understood.
Emily had been there through it allmy school friend, like a sister. She stood by me at my wedding, held my hands as I cried happy tears, swore shed always be there.
When I found out I was pregnant, I thought it would be another beautiful chapter.
Then Oliver changed.
At first, it was smalllate nights at work, smiles that never reached his eyes. Then it got worse. He barely looked at me. Conversations shrank to one-word replies. Nights spent with his back turned, as if I wasnt even there.
I didnt understand. I was exhausted, heavily pregnant, desperately trying to fix what was breaking between us. So I called Emily.
*”I dont know whats happening,”* I sobbed into the phone, curled into a ball in the dark while Oliver slept beside me. *”Its like hes already gone.”*
*”Youre overthinking,”* she said gently. *”He loves you. Its just stress.”*
I wanted to believe her.
But the constant tensionsleepless nights, loneliness despite being marriedwore me down.
Then one morning, I woke in pain. By evening, I was in the hospital, staring at the doctors lips but hearing nothing.
*No heartbeat. No baby.*
They say grief comes in waves. Mine was an avalanche.
The miscarriage shattered me. But Oliver? He was already lost. He sat beside me in the hospital, cold and silent, never reaching for my hand, never offering comfort. Just waiting, like he was at a bus stop, not grieving the child wed lost.
A month later, he finally said the words I think hed rehearsed for weeks.
*”Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.”*
And that was it. No explanation. No emotion. Just emptiness.
The day he left was quietno shouting, no tears. Just silence.
*”Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.”*
I blinked at him across the kitchen table, his words like a weight on my chest.
*”What?”* My voice shook.
He sighed, rubbing his temples like *I* was the problem.
*”I dont feel anything. Havent for a while.”*
Havent for a while.
I swallowed hard.
*”Since we lost the baby?”*
His jaw tightened. *”Thats not the point.”*
The lie was almost laughable.
I searched his face for remorse, guiltanything. But he just sat there, staring at the table.
*”So thats it? Five years and you just walk out?”* My hands clenched under the table.
He exhaled, impatient. *”I dont want to argue, Charlotte.”*
I laughedthe kind of laugh that comes when youre past breaking.
*”Oh, you dont want to argue? Funny, because I never got a say in any of this.”*
He stood, grabbed his keys. *”Ill stay with friends.”*
Before I could speak, the door slammed.
Emily, my best friend, followed soon after. Shed been my rockuntil she vanished. Calls ignored. Messages left on read. Thenblocked everywhere.
I didnt understand until my mum called one evening, voice tight.
*”Charlotte, love look at this.”*
She sent a link to Emilys Instagram.
And there they were.
Oliver and Emily. Arms wrapped around each other on a seaside holiday, laughing like theyd been in love for years.
My hands shook as I scrolled. Photo after photo, week after week. Fancy dinners, ski resorts, romantic nights by the fire. Shed flaunted itopenlywhile I was still his wife.
The betrayal burned like acid. But if they thought Id collapse, they were wrong.
I took my pain and turned it into power. Oliver had been careless, too wrapped up in his fantasy to cover his tracks. In court, his infidelity was my winning card. I kept the house, half his savings, and the satisfaction of knowing he had to start over.
He took my trust. I took what was mine.
Starting over wasnt easy. But life rewards those who endure.
A year later, I met James.
He was nothing like Oliverkind, attentive, patient. He never made me feel like my emotions were too much.
We built a real life, not one for social media. Soon, our daughter arrivedmy mirror image with his smile.
Then fate gave me the perfect ending.
One evening, stopping for petrol, I saw them.
Oliver and Emily.
No designer clothes now. No happy photos. Their cara rusted wreck, arguing at the till, a crying toddler, a declined card.
*”We cant even afford petrol?”* Emily snapped.
*”You knew things were tight,”* Oliver shot back.
She laughed bitterly. *”Looks like Charlotte won in the end.”*
I started the engine and drove home. To my real happiness.
