Three years after my husband left me for a childhood friend, an unexpected encounter at a petrol station made me smile.
My husband walked out on me for my oldest friend after I suffered a miscarriagethree years later, I spotted them at a service station, and I couldnt stop grinning.
When my husband started pulling away, I turned to my best friend for support. She told me I was overreacting. But I wasnt. Three years later, fate let me see the consequences of their betrayal.
I always thought affairs happened to other peoplesomething you read about in dramatic novels or overheard in hushed dinner conversations. Not to me. Not to us.
For five years, Oliver and I built a life together. It wasnt lavish, but it was ourscosy nights watching telly on the sofa, lazy Sunday mornings fetching coffee, inside jokes that only we understood.
And through it all, there was Emilymy best mate since primary school, my sister in everything but blood. She was there for every milestone, including my wedding, where she stood beside me as my maid of honour, squeezing my hands and crying happy tears.
When I got pregnant, I thought it was just another chapter in our perfect little story.
But then Oliver changed.
At first, it was small thingshe started staying late at work, his smiles never quite reaching his eyes. Then it got worse. He barely looked at me. Conversations became one-word answers. At night, he turned his back like I didnt even exist.
I didnt understand what was happening. I was exhausted, heavily pregnant, desperately trying to fix whatever had broken between us.
So I called Emily.
I dont know whats wrong, I sobbed into the phone, curled up in the dark while Oliver slept soundly beside me. Its like hes already gone.
Charlotte, youre overthinking it, she said gently. He loves you. Hes just stressed.
I wanted to believe her.
But the relentless tensionsleepless nights, anxiety, loneliness despite being marriedwas eating me alive.
Then one morning, I woke to a dull ache in my belly. By evening, I was in hospital, watching the doctors lips move but hearing nothing.
No heartbeat.
No baby.
They say grief comes in waves. Mine hit me like a freight train.
The miscarriage shattered me, but Oliver? He was already gone. He sat beside me in that hospital room, cold and silent, never reaching for my hand, never offering a word of comfort. Just sitting there like someone waiting for a bus, not grieving the loss of his child.
A month later, he finally said the words I suspect hed rehearsed a hundred times.
Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.
And that was it. No explanations, no emotions. Just an empty excuse.
The day Oliver left, there were no arguments, no shouting, no tears. Just icy silence.
Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.
I blinked at him across the kitchen table. His words sat heavy in my chest like a stone.
Sorry what? My voice shook.
He sighed deeply, rubbing his temples like *I* was the problem.
I just dont feel anything anymore. Havent for a long time.
*Havent for a long time.*
I swallowed hard.
Since I lost the baby?
His jaw tightened.
Its not about that.
The lie was almost laughable.
I stared at him, searching for somethingremorse, guilt, any flicker of emotion. But he just sat there, eyes fixed on the table.
So thats it? Five years, and you just walk away? My hands clenched under the table.
He sighed again, this time annoyed.
I dont
