The most devastating experience I had in 2025 was discovering my husband was cheating on me… and realising that my brother, my cousin, and my father had all known about it the entire time.
We’d been married eleven years. The woman my husband was having an affair with worked as a secretary at the same firm as my brother. Their relationship started after my brother introduced her to my husband—not by accident. They kept crossing paths at work, meetings, business events, and social gatherings my husband attended. My cousin also saw them in the same circles. Everyone knew each other. Everyone met often.
For months, my husband lived with me as if nothing had happened. I went to family get-togethers and spent time with my brother, cousin, and dad, not knowing they each knew about the affair. None of them warned me. None of them said a word. No one prepared me for what was going on behind my back.
When I found out about the infidelity in October, I confronted my husband first. He admitted it. Then I spoke to my brother. I asked him directly if he’d known. He said “yes.” I asked how long. He replied, “for months.” When I asked why he’d said nothing, he told me it wasn’t his problem, it was a matter between a couple, and “men don’t talk about these things with each other.”
Then I talked to my cousin and asked the same questions. He knew too. He’d seen behaviour, messages, and attitudes that showed what was happening. When I asked why he hadn’t warned me, he said he didn’t want trouble and it wasn’t his place to interfere.
Finally, I talked to my father and asked if he’d known. He said “yes.” I asked how long. He said, for a long time. Why hadn’t he told me? He said he didn’t want conflict, that matters like this are for couples to sort out, and he wouldn’t get involved. Really, all three gave me the same answer.
I moved out of the house, and it’s now up for sale. There were no public arguments or physical confrontations, because I refuse to demean myself for anyone. The woman kept her job at my brother’s company. My brother, cousin, and father stayed close to both of them.
For Christmas and New Year’s, my mum invited me to celebrate at hers with my brother, cousin, and dad. I told her I couldn’t go. I explained I wasn’t able to sit at the table with people who’d known about the affair and decided to stay silent. They celebrated together. I wasn’t there either time.
Since October, I haven’t spoken to any of the three. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive them. The most painful experience for me in 2025 was discovering that my husband was having an affair and that
The Empty Bench George Edmonds placed his battered flask on his lap and fiddled with the lidtesting for
Im sixty-six and, since the start of January, Ive been living with a fifteen-year-old girl who isnt my daughter.
My father-in-law thought we would always look after him. My husband grew up in a warm, loving family.
“Dad, please don’t come to visit us anymore! Every time you leave, Mum starts crying and doesn’t stop until morning. I ask her, ‘Mum, are you crying because of Dad?’ but she always says it’s just a sniffle. But I’m old enough to know that sniffles don’t sound like tears.
Dad sat with me at a café, stirring his cold coffee while my ice cream—an absolute masterpiece—remained untouched. Any six-year-old girl would be excited, but not me. I had decided, even last Friday, it was time for a serious talk with Dad.
He was silent for ages before saying, ‘So what should we do, sweetheart? Not see each other at all? How will I manage?’
I wrinkled my nose—just like Mum’s—and said, ‘No, Dad. I can’t be without you either. Here’s what we’ll do: call Mum and tell her you’ll pick me up from nursery every Friday. We’ll cafe if you want, and you can tell me all about your and Mum’s week. If you ever want to see Mum, I’ll take her picture every week and show you. Deal?’
Dad smiled and nodded. We agreed. I felt relieved and finally had my ice cream, but I wasn’t done yet. With chocolate moustaches, I turned serious and said, ‘I think you need to get married… You’re not that old!’
He chuckled at my generous fib.
‘Not that old, not that old!’ I insisted, ‘Mum’s friend, Uncle Steve, who’s been round twice, is actually quite bald right here.’ I touched my head and suddenly realised I’d let out Mum’s secret. Dad’s reaction was intense—‘Who’s this Steve? Mum’s boss?’ I shrugged. ‘Maybe. He brings sweets. And cake. And flowers for Mum.’
Dad stared at his hands, deciding something important. I waited, realising men need a gentle nudge from a woman—especially one they love.
Finally, Dad sighed, raised his head, and spoke with tragedy and love, though I didn’t know about Romeo or Othello, I understood people suffer and find joy over tiny things.
‘Let’s go home. I want to talk to Mum.’
I knew this was important. I quickly finished my ice cream, wiped my lips, sniffled, and looked seriously at Dad: ‘I’m ready. Let’s go.’
We didn’t walk—we half ran. Dad took my hand, and I fluttered behind like a bright little flag. When we reached our building, the lift was just leaving. Dad scooped me up and raced up the stairs.
At last, when Mum opened the door after Dad’s anxious ringing, he got right to the point: ‘You can’t do this! Who is Steve? I love you. We have Oly…’
Still holding me, Dad hugged Mum. I wrapped my arms around both their necks and closed my eyes because the grownups were kissing…
Sometimes, in life, it only takes a loving little girl to bring two stubborn adults back together—because she loved them both, and they loved her, and each other, but let their pride get in the way…
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