Three years after my husband left me for a childhood friend, our unexpected meeting on the street made me smile.
My husband walked out on me for my oldest friend after I suffered a miscarriagethree years later, I saw them at a petrol station and couldnt stop grinning
When my husband started pulling away, I turned to my best friend for comfort. She told me I was overreacting. But I wasnt. Three years later, fate let me witness the consequences of their betrayal.
I always thought affairs happened to other peoplesomething you only read about in dramatic stories or overheard in hushed dinner conversations. Not to me. Not to us.
For five years, Simon and I built a life together. It wasnt lavish, but it was oursfilm nights on the sofa, Sunday mornings fetching coffee, inside jokes that only we understood.
And all that time, there was Emmamy best friend since primary school, my sister in everything but blood. She was there for every milestone, even standing beside me as my bridesmaid at my wedding, squeezing my hands and crying happy tears.
When I got pregnant, I thought it was just another chapter in our perfect life.
But then Simon changed.
At first, it was small thingslate nights at work, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. Then it got worse. He barely looked at me. Our conversations shrank to one-word answers. At night, he turned his back, as if I didnt exist.
I didnt understand what was happening. I was exhausted, heavily pregnant, desperately trying to fix whatever had shattered between us.
So I went to Emma.
I dont know whats wrong, I sobbed into the phone, curled up in the dark while Simon slept soundly beside me. Its like hes already gone.
Charlotte, youre overthinking it, she said gently. He loves you. Hes just stressed.
I wanted to believe her.
But the constant tensionsleepless nights, the gnawing loneliness despite being marriedwas breaking me.
Then one morning, I woke to a dull ache in my belly. By evening, I was in hospital, watching the doctors lips move but hearing nothing.
No heartbeat.
No baby.
They say grief comes in waves. Mine hit me like a lorry.
The miscarriage wrecked me. But Simon? He was already gone. He sat beside me in the hospital, cold and silent, never reaching for my hand, never offering comfort. Just sitting there like someone waiting for a bus, not mourning the loss of his child.
A month later, he finally said the words I suspect hed rehearsed a hundred times.
Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.
And that was it. No explanation, no emotion. Just an empty excuse.
The day Simon left, there were no arguments, no shouting, no tears. Just icy silence.
Im not happy anymore, Charlotte.
I blinked at him across the kitchen table, his words heavy as stones in my chest.
Sorry, what? My voice shook.
He sighed, rubbing his temples as if I were the problem.
I just dont feel anything anymore. Havent for a long time.
A long time.
I swallowed hard.
Since we lost the baby?
His jaw tightened.
Its not that.
The lie was almost laughable.
I stared, searching for some hintremorse, guilt, anything. But he just sat there, refusing to meet my eyes.
So thats it? Five years, and you just walk away? My hands clenched under the table.
He sighed again, this time annoyed.
I dont want to argue, Charlotte.
I laughedthat jagged, unhinged sound that escapes when youre teetering on the edge.
Oh, you dont want to argue? Funny, because I didnt get a choice in any of this.
He stood, grabbing his keys.
Ill stay with mates.
Before I could say another word, he slammed the door.
Emma, my best friend, followed soon after. My rock, my lifeline. Then she just vanished. Ignored my calls. Left my messages unread. Eventually, she blocked me everywhere.
I didnt understanduntil I did.
My mum found out first. One evening, she called, her voice tight.
Charlotte, love have a look at this.
She sent me a link to Emmas Instagram.
And there they were.
Simon and Emma. Arms wrapped around each other on a beach, laughing like theyd been in love for years.
I scrolled, hands trembling. Photo after photo, week after week. Fancy restaurants, ski resorts, cosy nights by the fire. Shed posted it all, openlywhile I was still his wife.
The betrayal burned like acid. But if they thought Id just crumble, they were wrong.
I took my pain and forged it into steel. Simon had been careless, too swept up in his fantasy to cover his tracks. In court, his infidelity worked in my favour. I kept the house, half his savings, and the satisfaction of watching him start from scratch.
He took my trust. I took what was rightfully mine.
Starting over wasnt easy. But life rewards resilience.
A year later, I met James.
He wasnt just different from Simonhe was everything Simon wasnt. Kind. Present. Never made me feel like my feelings were too much.
We built a life. A real one, not some polished façade for social media. And soon, we had a daughtermy eyes, his smile.
Then fate handed me the perfect ending.
Late one evening, I stopped at a petrol station. And there they were.
Simon and Emma.
But now, no designer clothes, no happy photos. Their cara rusted wreck, a screaming child in the back, a declined card at the till.
We dont even have enough for petrol? Emma hissed.
You knew we were skint, Simon snapped back.
Emma laughed bitterly.
Looks like Charlotte won in the end.
I started the engine and drove hometo my real happiness.
