y Husband Traded Our Family of Four for His Mistress — Three Years Later, I Met Them Again, and It Was Perfectly Satisfying
In what seemed like poetic justice, I happened upon my family three years after my husband had left them for his glitzy mistress. I wasn’t content with their demise. I was able to move forward and succeed without them because of the strength I had discovered within myself.
Two amazing children, fourteen years of marriage, and a life I believed to be rock solid. But when Stan brought her into our house one evening, everything I held dear fell apart.
It was the start of the most difficult and life-changing period of my life.
I was engrossed in my daily routine as a mother of two children before to this.
Carpooling, homework assistance, and family dinners dominated my days. My lively 12-year-old Lily and my inquisitive 9-year-old Max were my world.
I also believed that we were a happy family, despite the fact that life wasn’t ideal.
The problem is that Stan and I had to start our lives from the beginning. After meeting at work, we clicked right away.
Stan asked me to marry him shortly after we became friends, and I had no excuse not to accept.
Despite all of the ups and downs we experienced throughout the years, our friendship remained strong. I didn’t realize how mistaken I was to think that our bond had been reinforced by all of our unpleasant times together.
He has been working late lately. But that’s typical, isn’t it?
At work, there was a backlog of projects and impending deadlines. These were merely the price paid for a prosperous career. Even though dad wasn’t as involved as he once was, I reminded myself that he still loved us.
That’s not true, and I wish I knew. What he had been doing behind my back is something I wish I knew.
It took place on Tuesday. I recall this because I was preparing the kind of soup Lily enjoyed using the little alphabet noodles for supper.
The front door opened, and then I heard the strange click of heels on the floor.
When I looked at the clock, my heart skipped a beat. Stan had arrived home earlier than usual.
“Stan?” I yelled while using a dish towel to wipe my hands. As I entered the living room and saw them, my gut grew tense.
Stan with his lover.
She had sleek hair, a keen smile that made you feel like prey, and a tall, impressive build. As though she belonged there, she stood close to him, her well-groomed hand resting lightly on his arm.
My husband, Stan, on the other hand, gave her a kind gaze that I hadn’t seen in months.
She looked at me and said, “Well, darling,” in a tone that was brimming with contempt. “You weren’t overstating anything. She truly relaxed. What a shame. She has a good bone structure.
I had trouble breathing for a while. Her remarks cut right through me.
“Excuse me?” I choked out.
Stan sighed as if I were the one who was being irrational.
“Lauren, we need to talk,” he began, his arms folded. “This is Miranda. Additionally, I want a divorce.
“A divorce?” Unable to comprehend what he was saying, I repeated. “How about our children? How about us?
“You’ll manage,” he murmured, sounding as though he was talking about the weather. “Child support will be sent. Miranda and I, however, are being serious. To let you know that I’m not altering my mind, I brought her here.”
He delivered the last blow with a nonchalant cruelty I hadn’t believed he was capable of, as if that wasn’t enough.
“Oh, and by the way, you can sleep on the couch tonight or go to your mom’s place, because Miranda is staying over.”
What I was hearing was unbelievable.
Despite my intense anger and hurt, I refused to let him enjoy my breakdown.
Rather, I turned and rushed upstairs, grabbing a suitcase from the closet with trembling hands.
I reminded myself to maintain my composure for Lily and Max. Tears clouded my vision as I packed their luggage, but I persisted.
Lily looked up from her book when I entered her room. She realized right away that something was wrong.
She said, “Mom, what’s going on?”
I knelt next to her and stroked her hair.
“My dear, we’re spending some time at Grandma’s. “Please pack a few items.”
“But why? “Where is Dad?” Max added from the entrance.
I answered, “Sometimes grown-ups make mistakes,” without faltering. However, we’ll be alright. I swear.
I was thankful they didn’t ask for more. I didn’t turn around as we left the house that evening.
I had to continue living for my children even though the life I had known was gone.
I felt like I had the entire world on my shoulders that night as I drove to my mother’s house with Lily and Max sound sleeping in the backseat. I had a lot of questions, and my mind was racing with them.
What was Stan capable of? What would I say to the children? How will the ashes of this treachery be used to reconstruct our lives?
My mother opened the door when we got there.
She pulled me into an embrace and asked, “Lauren, what happened?”
But I couldn’t get the words out of my throat. With tears running down my cheeks, I simply shook my head.
The days that followed were a haze of legal paperwork, dropping off kids at school, and trying to explain to my kids the inexplicable.
The divorce proceeded quickly, and I was left with a settlement that hardly seemed fair. My portion of the proceeds from the sale of the house went toward purchasing a smaller home.
I purchased a modest two-bedroom house for us. An environment where I wouldn’t have to fear betrayal.
Losing the house and the life I had assumed would be the most difficult part. It was observing Lily and Max accept that their father would not be returning.
Stan first sent child support checks on time, but that didn’t work out.
By six months, both the phone calls and the payments had completely stopped. He was busy, or perhaps he needed some time to get used to things, I told myself.
However, as the weeks stretched into months, it became evident that Stan was more than simply no longer in my life. He had abandoned the children as well.
Miranda had been instrumental in this, as I later discovered through mutual connections. He had been persuaded by her that maintaining contact with his “old life” was a diversion.
And Stan had complied, always keen to win her approval. However, he lacked the bravery to confront us when financial difficulties started to surface.
I had to stand up for Lily and Max, even if it was heartbreaking. Even though their father was unable to give them stability, they still deserved it.
I started to rebuild gradually, not just for them but also for myself.
After three years, my life had found a rhythm that I loved.
Max had advanced his passion for robotics, while Lily was now a high school student. The joy and laughter that permeated our small house demonstrated how far we had come.
We were no longer plagued by our history.
I believed I would never see Stan again at that moment, but destiny had other ideas.
The whole thing came full circle on a gloomy afternoon.
I was balancing my umbrella and bags in one hand after finishing my grocery shopping when I noticed them. Across the street, at a rundown outdoor café, sat Stan and Miranda.
Furthermore, it appeared that neither of them had been fortunate by time.
Stan appeared gaunt. A rumpled shirt and a tie that fell clumsily loose about his neck replaced his once-tailored suits.
He was so tired that his face was wrinkled and his hair was fading.
From a distance, Miranda, still wearing high-end clothing, appeared put together, but the details revealed a different picture. Her heels were frayed, her once-luxurious handbag was scratched, and her clothing was faded.
I couldn’t decide whether to laugh, cry, or continue walking when I saw them.
But for some reason, I stayed put. Curiosity, I suppose.
Stan’s eyes sprang up and met mine as if he could sense me. His face glowed with optimism for a moment.
He stumbled to his feet and almost toppled his chair as he yelled, “Lauren!” “Wait!”
Despite my hesitation, I made the decision to go closer and cautiously placed my groceries beneath the awning of a local business.
At the same time, Miranda’s face turned sour when she spotted me. As though avoiding a confrontation she knew she couldn’t win, her gaze darted away.
Stan yelled, “Lauren, I’m so sorry for everything,” his voice breaking. “Can we talk, please? I must see the children. I must put things right.
“Make things right?” I inquired. “Stan, you haven’t seen your children in more than two years. You ceased making child support payments. What specifically do you believe you can solve right now?
He said, “I know, I know,” first. “I made a mistake. I’m with Miranda. He gave her a tense look. “We made some bad decisions.”
Miranda blurted out, “Oh, don’t blame this on me,” at last breaking her stillness. “You’re the one who lost all that money on a ‘surefire’ investment.”
“You’re the one who convinced me it was a good idea!” Stan fired back at her.
Miranda gave an eye roll.
She pointed to her scuffed luxury bag and added, “Well, you’re the one who bought me this instead of saving for rent.”
The tension between them was palpable to me. It was as though years of bitterness were now erupting.
For the first time, I saw them as two shattered individuals who had wrecked themselves rather than the glitzy pair who had ruined my marriage.
Miranda stood at last, fixing her old clothes with a disgusted expression.
She remarked icily, “I stayed because of the child we had together,” speaking more to me than to Stan. “But don’t believe I’m going to stay here any longer. Stan, you’re on your own.”
Stan was left slumped in his chair as she left, her heels clicking on the pavement. He didn’t stop her at all, just watched her leave. Then he faced me once more.
“Please, Lauren. I’ll stop by. I’ll speak to the children. I really do miss them. I miss us.
I looked at him for a long time, looking for signs of the man I had loved in his face. All I saw, though, was a person I hardly recognized. A man for whom nothing was worth trading.
I gave a headshake.
“Give me your number, Stan,” I said. “The kids will call if they want to speak with you. However, you will not return to my home.”
The finality of my tone made him wince, but he nevertheless nodded and wrote his number on a piece of paper.
His words, “Thank you, Lauren,” “I-I’d be grateful if they call me.”
I turned away and slipped it into my pocket without glancing at it.
I had a weird feeling of closure as I made my way back to my car. It wasn’t retaliation, to be honest. However, I realized that I could move on without Stan feeling bad about his decisions.
No one could take away the love and resiliency that my children and I had built up during our lives.
