My storys a little out of the ordinary.
You see, my mother-in-law was well aware her darling son was having an affair with the neighbour next door. And she didn’t say a word to me.
I only found out when the neighbour became pregnant at which point the family could hardly sweep that under the rug.
Id been married six years when the whole circus came tumbling down.
We lived together, we both worked, and we hadnt got round to children yet.
We werent the poster couple for happily ever after, but I genuinely believed we were a team, a family.
Nearly every Sunday, we went to his parents house. Lunch, a bit of nattering, me lending a hand in the kitchen the full British in-law package.
I really felt like I belonged there.
Never in a million years did it cross my mind that people could look me squarely in the eye at that table while harbouring such a whopper of a secret.
As for the neighbour, Fiona, she was always hanging about. Not just a random woman from the street, no she was practically one of the family, forever popping in (sometimes unannounced), sometimes staying for tea, sometimes lingering till bedtime.
And I? Blissfully unaware.
Probably because I was raised to believe families had boundaries.
I couldnt even imagine goings-on like that right under everyones nose, as though the local drama had come to call at No. 12.
My mother-in-law, Barbara, always leapt to Fionas defence.
If someone grumbled about her, shed hush it up. If Fiona needed anything, Barbara was first on her feet.
My husband, Brian, was always around and helpful.
I saw it, but brushed it off: Dont be silly, Anna. Britons arent melodramatic.
But a few months before the grand revelation, I started feeling things were off.
Brian was more absent than present saying he had errands at his parents place, extra work, that sort of thing.
I never played detective.
Never was the sort of wife to sniff out trouble, check pockets or track phone calls.
Barbara, though, started acting oddly.
Cooler. Distant. Polite, but less so.
It was almost as if guilt had crept in the door ahead of me.
The day the truth came knocking, I wasnt ready.
Brians aunt Margaret rang out of the blue.
She started with small talk how was work, how were we, all that polite British fluff.
Then a pause.
And then:
I just need to ask You and Brian, youre still living together, arent you?
Suspicious, but I said Yes.
Another pause, then:
And you dont know about the neighbour, do you?
A chill ran through me.
What do you mean? I asked, voice wobbling.
She got straight to the point:
Shes pregnant. And Brians the father.
Margaret told me it was now the worst kept secret in the family.
That for months theyd all been trying to manage the situation.
But nobody dared tell me.
I hung up and sat on the edge of my bed, limbs numb.
Brian hadnt come home yet.
When he finally wandered through, I was waiting.
I asked him outright:
How long have you been with Fiona?
He didnt even try to lie. Just looked down at his shoes.
It wasnt planned, he muttered.
For how long?
Over a year.
The floor didnt quite swallow me whole, but it wanted to.
I asked who knew, bracing myself.
And the worst bit:
Mums known for months.
That line hurt worse than the rest put together.
The next day, I marched to Barbaras without warning.
Didnt care if shed just poured herself a cuppa.
Straight to the point:
Why didnt you tell me?
She gave me a perfectly calm look.
No tears, no tremors.
Like someone whos decided, quite logically, that shes right.
She said:
I wanted to avoid a scandal. I thought Brian would sort things with you.
I stared in disbelief.
So hiding that your sons cheating with the neighbour is protecting me?
Her reply:
I didnt want to break your marriage.
Thats when the penny finally dropped:
Id never been protected.
Just convenient.
Id been fooled by everyone.
Afterwards, the whole clan swung into action advice galore, interference, explanations, gentle nudging.
Dont make a fuss, Anna.
Dont be so dramatic.
Lets keep this quiet.
As if the real issue was my reaction, not their collective cover up.
I signed the divorce papers.
Fiona retreated to her mothers for a bit.
Barbara stopped speaking to me.
And Brian was whisking the new baby around the park soon enough.
I was left on my own.
Not just without a husband, but bereft of the family Id thought I had.
And the worst thing wasnt even the cheating.
It was the group betrayal.
Divorce.
I signed those papers as someone who could barely stand upright, not only because Brian betrayed me, but because the whole family did.
Six years of Sunday lunches in their home.
Making roasts, helping with the dishes, cracking jokes, celebrating birthdays I thought they loved me.
Turns out they were smiling, nodding, and keeping mum, knowing the whole sordid business.
A secret for them, but not a protection for me.
Barbara didnt betray me just the day she found out.
She betrayed me every time she hugged me and told me everythings fine, while her son was starting a family with someone else.
And heres the real gut-punch, more painful than any affair:
You can survive a partners betrayal.
But when the whole family table betrays you it changes you forever.
Question for you:
What do you think if your partners family knows theyre cheating and stays silent, are they accomplices, or is it none of their business? What would you do if you were in my shoes?
