I Was in This Relationship for Five Years: Two Years Married, Three Living Together, and Most of Our Engagement Spent Long Distance with Visits Every Few Months—How I Discovered My Husband’s Infidelity, Nearly Cheated Myself, and Ultimately Chose to Leave Instead of Becoming What He Was to Me

Author Mitsuko NagasakiReading 6 minViews 2

I was in that relationship for five years. Wed been married for two, and lived together for three. While we were engaged, most of our relationship was long distance. Wed only see each other every few months, and there was even a year when we managed to meet up just twice because of his work. Back then, I didnt see it as an issue. On the contrary it felt like the perfect relationship. We missed one another terribly, cried during phone calls, and poured our affection into messages and video chats. We never argued. Neither of us were jealous. We respected each others personal space. He could go out for dinner with mates, I could go to a party, and it simply didnt matter. Hed even help me choose what to wear and Im not talking about anything provocative. More often than not, hed tell me a dress looked a bit tight and suggest something that suited me better. He was never controlling, quite the opposite, actually he seemed proud of me and how I looked. Everything between us felt healthy, calm, ideal.

One December was especially tough, because we both knew we wouldnt see each other for either Christmas or New Years. We were sad, disappointed. Thats when he suggested I move to his city Manchester. I thought it over, spoke to my family, and they told me if its what I truly wanted, I should go for it. So I quit my job and moved in with him.

The first few months went well. The first year was all about adjustment getting used to each others quirks, figuring out our routines, how we behaved when we woke up, when we were hungry, what got on our nerves and what didnt. Since I was out of work at first, I looked after the house. Everything ticked along smoothly.

The second year was even better. We were a real team. We hit that all-consuming in love stage didnt want to be apart for a moment when he wasnt working. To outsiders, we looked just married. I really felt Id made the right decision.

But then, in the third year, things began to change. He started coming home late. Wed always shared our locations with each other, but one day he switched his off without saying a word. Hed come home at five or six in the morning, even though he was supposed to start work at eight. Hed just shower, grab some breakfast, and leave again. He stopped explaining himself. The arguments began cropping up more and more.

Then something happened that marked me deeply. I found makeup on a white shirt of his foundation and lipstick, clear as day, on the collar and sleeve. It wasnt a little smudge; it was obvious. I asked for an explanation. Thats when he told me something that Ill never forget that he had to look elsewhere for what I wasnt giving him anymore, because Id become boring, too focused on tidying and keeping the house spotless. That was all I needed to hear. He didnt say directly, yes, Ive cheated, but he didnt deny it either. He confirmed it without coming straight out with the words.

It shattered me. I cried nonstop. I felt a physical ache in my chest. I didnt know what to do, how to even begin to get out of this situation. So, I decided to do something for myself I went back to the gym. Id trained before, but stopped when I moved in with him. At the gym, I met a man. We started chatting. He was easy to talk to. One day, he invited me out for a drink, and I was the one who suggested we go to his. He agreed. We were due to meet up that afternoon it was clear what would happen.

That morning, after seeing him at the gym, I couldnt shake the thought: This cant be. Im about to cheat. He deserves it. But straight away, I told myself, No. I wont be like him. So I decided to end things the right way, first.

I waited for my husband to come home for lunch. I didnt let him go into the bedroom. We sat in the dining room and I told him the relationship wasnt working, that hed been unfaithful, and I didnt want to know with whom or for how long. That everything ended here, and now. He told me not to make such a fuss, that she wasnt important, that she wasnt anything like me, that we could fix things. I said I didnt want to go on.

I didnt tell him Id met someone else, or that I had feelings for another. I told him I was leaving. My suitcases were already packed. He asked where Id go, whether there was someone there for me. I told him it didnt matter. Id figure it out.

I walked out of that house with my bags and went to the other mans place. When he saw me with my luggage, he looked startled. I explained that Id just left my husband and would be going back to my hometown, York, the next day I just wanted to spend this one night with him. He agreed.

That night was the most powerful experience of my life. I dont know whether it was the anger, the pain, everything built up over the years, but it was something completely unlike anything Id felt before, even with my ex-husband.

The next day, I bought a ticket and went back to York. I had nowhere else to go, so I returned to my parents home. I wanted nothing more to do with my ex-husband. That was two years ago. Now Im alone, working again, renting my own place, and I dont regret the decision I made. I was on the edge of making the same mistake he did but I stopped myself, ended things properly, and refused to become what he had become to me.

Sometimes the dignified choice is the hardest one to make, but in the end, staying true to oneself is the thing that truly sets you free.

When the Key Turned in the Door, His Heart Nearly Leapt From His Chest and His Soul Rushed to Meet Her… 🤔 — How many more mistakes can you make?! Your errors are just ridiculous! Look at this! — Alison Edwards jabbed her long, manicured nail at the monthly report, almost snapping her polished perfection. — Go! Do it again! And if you can’t manage, then just quit already! — Her boss, always impeccably groomed and attractive, looked downright demonic when angry. Lisa left in silence. There was just over an hour left in the working day—she had to hurry, though she’d already been docked her bonus. It felt like one endless streak of bad luck—complete with extra hurdles. A week ago, she’d called her mother, only to be met with a fresh bout of criticism. Her mum launched into accusations and hung up in a rage, leaving Lisa more upset than usual and now too afraid to call at all. Two days ago she’d lost her bank card, had to cancel it and order a new one. And yesterday, her only companion—Phoebe, her year-old calico cat—had fallen from the third-floor balcony. Lisa watched as the cat eventually stood, shook herself off, and walked away. But when Lisa got outside, Phoebe was nowhere to be found, having vanished ever since. Barely submitting her cursed report, Lisa headed home, not even bothering with the shops. She collapsed on the sofa and sobbed bitterly. Half an hour later, her tears dried, but she felt no better. Gloomy, poisonous thoughts slithered in: Who am I living for? My mother doesn’t want me, I have no family, and even my cat has left me. Suddenly, the idea of ending it all seemed almost comforting. “At least they’ll break their nails and weep someday, but by then it’ll be too late,” she thought darkly, feeling relieved that tomorrow she wouldn’t need to go to work, call her mother, or apologise for things she hadn’t done. A reckless sense of glee took over. She was just a small step away from making a truly terrible decision when the phone rang—a number she didn’t recognise. She nearly ignored it, but thought “What if this is the last human voice I’ll ever hear?” — Hello?… Nobody answered. — If you’re just going to call and not speak, why bother? — Her frustration grew. — Hello… — a low male voice finally came through. — Please, don’t hang up. — Who are you? What do you want? — Lisa was anxious to get on with her “important” plans. — I just wanted to hear another human’s voice… I haven’t spoken to anyone in a week. I thought, if nobody answered me tonight, that would be it… — he sighed shakily. — Can’t you go out to the park or something? That’s all it takes! — Lisa perched on her wide windowsill. — I can’t. I live on the fifth floor. My wife left a week ago… — His voice fell. — No wonder! What kind of man are you?! — Lisa said, not understanding his situation. — I’m in a wheelchair. Less than a year now. Five flights—up and down—is impossible without a lift. — You don’t have legs?! — Lisa asked, horrified, before she could stop herself. — Not quite. Spinal injury. I can’t walk. — She thought she heard a sigh and a smile in his words. They talked for half an hour more. Lisa took down his address. An hour later, she was at his door with two massive carrier bags. Answering was a young, handsome man in a wheelchair. — I’m Lisa! — It only dawned on her now that she didn’t even know his name. — Arthur! — His radiant smile lit up his face as if he’d been waiting his whole life for her. Turns out, they lived not far from one another. Lisa visited every day. Her own hardships paled in comparison to his situation—troubles that had almost cost her the will to live. She grew stronger, more stubborn, more caring. As if by magic, Phoebe reappeared: just waiting for Lisa on her doormat. When her boss Alison tried to start in on her again, Lisa cut her short: — Ms Edwards, you have no right to yell at me or humiliate me. I can’t work under this kind of pressure—I’ll call in sick from this migraine, and good luck finding a replacement! The girls in the office burst out laughing; her boss turned on her heel and left. A call finally came from her mother: — Hello, daughter! Why haven’t you called? How could you be so heartless, so ungrateful? Elizabeth, are you listening?! — her mother shrieked. — Hello, Mum. I don’t want to talk with you in that tone anymore, — Lisa replied evenly. — How dare you?! I’ll hang up! — Go ahead… — she said indifferently. A few days later, her mother rang again. No apology—never her style—but at least the conversation stayed civil. A month later, Lisa moved in with Arthur, renting out her own flat. Friendship turned into trust, gratitude, tenderness—maybe even love. With rent money, Lisa hired a masseuse and booked weekly swimming sessions for Arthur. Slowly, feeling began to return; he could wiggle his toes. Lisa’s mother fell ill, and Lisa took two days off work to care for her. Arthur waited anxiously. Like a loyal hound, he lay on the sofa for days, counting the minutes. It was February and a blizzard raged outside. He knew when Lisa’s bus should arrive, calculated how long it would take her to get home—but the minutes dragged on, and Lisa still wasn’t there. Arthur wheeled himself to the window, but the snowstorm swallowed up everything. Her phone had been off for hours. One hour passed… Two… Three… When the key finally turned in the lock, his heart nearly burst from his chest and his soul leapt to greet her. — Arthur, the bus skidded off the road; we had to wait for the tow service… My phone died straight away, — she called, pulling off her coat. — Arthur! She ran into the living room and stopped dead— He was standing, just two steps from his wheelchair, beaming.

I’m 47 Years Old. For 15 Years, I Worked as a Personal Chauffeur for a Senior Executive at a Leading UK Tech Firm. He Always Treated Me Well—Great Pay, Bonuses, Full Benefits, Even Extra Perks. I Drove Him Everywhere: Business Meetings, Airport Runs, Formal Dinners, and Family Events. My Family Lived Comfortably; I Gave My Three Children a Good Education and Bought a Modest Home on a Mortgage. Last Tuesday, I Was Driving Him to an Important Meeting at a London Hotel. As Always, Dressed Smartly, Car Immaculate, Arrived Promptly. He Told Me This Meeting Was Crucial, With International Guests, and Asked Me to Wait in the Car. I Agreed, No Problem. The Meeting Began in the Morning. I Waited in the Car. Noon Came and Went, Then the Afternoon, Still No Sign. I Texted to Check In—He Said It Was Going Well, to Give Him Another Hour. By Evening, I Was Hungry But Didn’t Move—Didn’t Want to Miss Him. Finally, Around 8:30pm, He Came Out With His Guests, All Laughing. I Opened the Car Door for Them. He Asked Me to Take Them to Dinner. On the Drive, They Spoke English. Over the Years, I’d Studied the Language in My Evenings, Though I’d Never Mentioned It at Work. I Understood Everything. One Guest Remarked How Dedicated I Was for Waiting All Day. My Boss Laughed and Said, “That’s What I Pay Him For—He’s Just a Driver, He Has Nothing Better to Do.” They All Laughed. A Lump Formed in My Throat, But I Said Nothing and Kept Driving. During Dinner, He Told Me to Grab Something to Eat and Return in Two Hours. Alone, His Words Echoed in My Mind: “Just a Driver.” Fifteen Years of Loyalty, Early Mornings, Hours Waiting—Was That Really All I Was to Him? Next Day, I Arrived as Usual. As He Got in, I Left My Resignation Letter on the Seat Beside Him. He Looked Puzzled and Asked What It Was. I Told Him I Was Resigning—Respectfully but Firmly. He Was Stunned, Offered Me More Money, Asked If Something Happened. I Said It Wasn’t About Money, But Time for a Change. He Pressed for the Real Reason. At a Red Light, I Looked at Him and Said, “Last Night, You Called Me ‘Just a Driver’ With Nothing Better to Do. Maybe That’s True for You, But I Deserve to Work for Someone Who Respects Me.” He Turned Pale, Tried to Explain He Didn’t Mean It, It Was a Thoughtless Remark. I Told Him I Understood, But After 15 Years, It Was Clear Enough. I Deserved to Be Valued. At the Office, He Asked Me to Reconsider and Offered a Significant Raise. I Refused, Promised to Work My Notice, Then Leave. My Last Day Was Difficult. He Tried Harder With Even Better Offers, But My Mind Was Made Up. Now, I’m in a New Job—Not as a Driver, But as a Coordinator, With Higher Pay, My Own Office, Set Hours. My New Boss Said He Values Loyalty and Hard Work. I Didn’t Hesitate to Accept. Later, I Got a Message From My Old Boss—He Said He Was Wrong, I Was More Than a Driver, I Was Someone He Relied On, and Asked for Forgiveness. I Haven’t Replied Yet. Now, I Feel Valued in My New Job, but Sometimes Wonder—Did I Do the Right Thing? Should I Have Given Him a Second Chance? Sometimes, Five Seconds and a Careless Sentence Can Undo 15 Years of Trust. What Do You Think—Did I Do the Right Thing, or Was I Too Harsh?