After marrying Catherine, I went abroad to earn some money. I worked month after month, sending all the money to my wife. Ten years later, I decided to return home. Catherine had been working at a company where she often traveled for business. Our kids are now grown, we are both 57, and I run my own business. During a business trip to a company outside the city, I spotted a picture of my wife in the director’s office, which took me by surprise.
We got married shortly after we finished school. Three years later, our first son was born, then another, and later, a daughter. I immediately found a job and enrolled in evening classes. Catherine stayed home, dedicating her time to the children. Once I completed my studies, I moved to Belgium for work. The monthly pay ensured we never lacked funds. After returning, I started a small firm, which has been profitable to this day.
Both Catherine and I are now 57 years old. In all that time, I had no reason to blame my wife for anything. I never imagined she might be unfaithful. Our children have grown up, started working, and have families of their own.
Catherine has been working for the same company for ten years. Due to her job’s nature, she frequently went on business trips, especially over the past three years. Sometimes, these trips extended for a month. However, she never forgot us, calling nearly every day, saying she missed me and the kids.
Once, I had to travel to another city to negotiate a bulk fruit purchase with a supplier. To finalize the deal, we went to the supplier’s office. I was dumbstruck when I recognized my wife smiling sweetly in one of the photos, standing beside our new supplier Andrew. I caught my breath, collected my thoughts, and asked casually who was in the photo. Andrew explained it was his wife, whom he’d been married to for four years, and suggested we sign the contract at his home, where he could introduce me to his wife. As we drove, he praised his beloved, mentioning how wonderful a homemaker she was, though she often traveled for work.
On the way, I kept my worry in check, maintaining a calm demeanor. When we arrived at his house, we went to the dining room, where he proudly introduced me to his wife. Catherine froze when she saw me, unable to move or speak. We stared at each other for what felt like ages. Realizing things wouldn’t end well if I stayed, I silently left the house.
I collected my belongings from the hotel and hurried to the railway station. It was only in the train compartment that I regained my senses. One question kept echoing in my mind: “Why?” At home, I couldn’t sleep or eat, and I couldn’t understand why she did this. Days passed, and I remained unsettled, pondering why everything unfolded the way it did.
Catherine called me, but I didn’t answer. A week later, I decided to pick up. She tried to explain herself, apologizing and even accusing me, getting tangled in her own stories. By the end of the call, she apologized again. I listened silently and then hung up. I couldn’t bear to hear more. My wife had led a double life, deceiving me and our kids all along.
Two weeks later, she showed up at our home, hoping I’d forgive her. I listened calmly and then asked her to explain the situation to the children. She insisted it was my fault for neglecting her and claimed she still loved us. Our youngest son remained silent, the eldest too, while tears silently streamed down our daughter’s face. Catherine understood everything; she knew no one wanted to see her, and she left.
A year later, when her husband found someone else, leaving her without a place to go, Catherine returned to our town. She tried several times to meet with me, but I refused. The children also declined her calls.
