I was preparing dinner – a mushroom casserole, James’s favorite dish.
The children were already asleep, and the house was filled with warmth and the aroma of spices.
His phone vibrated on the kitchen table.
The screen lit up with a short message:
“Darling, I’m waiting for you. Don’t forget the strawberries and cream.”
Just a few words… But they turned my reality upside down. Ten years of marriage crumbled in an instant.
I stared at the screen until it went dark. A second later, another notification. I didn’t read it.
My hands trembled as I placed the casserole dish into the oven. Ten years. Two children.
A business we built together. Or rather, that he built while I sacrificed myself.
— “Sweetheart, supporting me is more important right now. You’ll have time for your own things later.”
I believed him.
When he came home late, as he often did lately, I didn’t ask any questions.
— “Sorry, darling, the meeting ran late.”
I silently watched as he ate his favorite casserole.
And I thought only of one thing:
Who is he lying to more – me or himself?
— “Are you okay?” he noticed my silence.
— “Yes, just tired.”
I smiled.
But inside, everything was falling apart.
When did I lose myself?
That night, I couldn’t sleep. Closing my eyes, I remembered how we met.
How he admired my sketches. How he promised I had a brilliant future ahead.
And then…
The wedding. Pregnancy. The second pregnancy. A business that demanded more and more time.
— “You understand, right? The most important thing now is to get on our feet.”
I understood. I ran the household, organized meetings, answered calls. And I put my sketches away in a drawer – for better times.
The next morning, I started noticing things I hadn’t seen before. How carefully he chose his shirt.
How he spent too long fixing his hair. How he turned away when reading messages.
— “Dad, will you play with me tonight?” our younger son grabbed his sleeve.
— “Sorry, son, I have an important meeting.”
An important meeting. I wonder, will she be wearing a blue dress?
The same one I used to wear at the beginning of our relationship… Now it gathers dust in the closet.
Too elegant for grocery shopping and school meetings.
I continued doing everything as usual.
Cooking breakfast. Checking homework. Managing business matters.
But inside, one question burned – why?
Who is she? How long has this been going on?
— “Mom, you look sad,” my daughter gently hugged me.
— “Everything’s fine, sweetheart. I’m just tired.”
But this time, I no longer believed my own excuse.
We need to talk
That evening, I took out my old sketches from the drawer.
So many ideas. So many plans… I found a drawing of a children’s room that I had designed when I was pregnant with Emma.
Bright, unique interior. Swings under the ceiling, transformable walls.
And James had said:
— “Let’s go with something simpler. It’s just a kid’s room.”
Just…
When did my dreams become “just”?
The phone vibrated again. A message from him:
— “I’ll be home late tonight.”
I looked at the screen. And suddenly, I realized:
I can’t do this anymore.
The next evening, when the kids were at their grandmother’s, I waited for him with a clear decision in my heart.
When he walked in, not even taking off his coat, I asked:
— “Who is she?”
The question that had been burning inside me came out quietly, yet it cut through the silence like a knife.
James froze. Then he poured himself a whiskey. I saw his hands shaking.
— “Anna…”
— “Just answer. I have the right to know.”
He sat across from me, nervously twirling his glass between his fingers.
— “It means nothing.”
Nothing?
— “It’s just… You understand, things between us have gone cold for a long time.”
Cold?
I remembered how:
— I made him breakfast even when I was sick.
— I spent sleepless nights managing his documents.
— I canceled a trip to Paris because of his meeting.
— “When?”
— “What do you mean, when?”
— “When did everything go cold?”
— “When I stopped wearing beautiful dresses?”
— “When I sacrificed my dream for your business?”
He frowned.
— “Don’t exaggerate. You chose to be a housewife.”
A housewife?
— “I managed your accounting. Organized your meetings. Raised our children. That’s what you call a housewife?!”
— “Sarah, listen…”
He tried to take my hand.
— “We can fix this. I… I’ll end it. We can start over.”
But I already saw a stranger in front of me.
— “Do you know what’s worse than anything?”
He was silent.
— “Not that you met someone else.”
— “But that you don’t even understand what you’ve done.”
I will be myself again
That night, for the first time in years, I opened my sketchbook.
The next morning, I picked up the kids. And then…
Then a new chapter of my life began.
I was no longer someone’s shadow. I was myself again.
And this uncertainty no longer scared me. On the contrary – it was beautiful.
Because the worst betrayal of all is betraying yourself.
