I admit, at first, I felt a pang of guilt for meeting him today. Seeing Kaden for the first time, I thought about how much I was betraying Adrian, lying to him and sneaking away to meet this attractive, mysterious stranger.
But when Kaden dropped a bomb I never saw coming and showed me the kind of man I’m really married to, that guilt I felt earlier, evaporated faster than the wind.
Even now, sitting here while I take small sips of my hot tea, my emotions are scattered and raw. Hurt, anger, confusion, grief, sorrow—they twist together, like a tight rope I can’t untangle.
How can I face Adrian, knowing what I know now? How can we sit at the dinner table as a family, knowing he lied and deceived us for months? How can I sleep beside him at night, knowing he gave himself to another woman?
I don’t know how, and that’s the truth. I don’t know how to keep living in this house, carrying on with our normal lives, or look my son in the eyes while pretending not to think that his father is nothing more than a lying, selfish dirtbag.
I refuse to be one of those wives who stays for the kids while my soul crumbles inside. Zac deserves a mother who is happy, who feels secure. If I stay, he won’t get that—he’ll have a bitter, broken mother with deeply embedded trust issues, and I won’t let him live with that. We deserve better. I gave Adrian a second chance after he shattered my heart the first time. He won’t get another.
My eyes settle on the cup in my hand, the one Adrian gave me for Mother’s Day last year. I trace the wordsWorld’s BestMumslowly with my finger, knowing that around the same time, he was with another woman.
Then, as if possessed, my hand jerks the cup off the island counter, and it shatters into fragments on the tile floor, the steaming liquid spattering in multiple places.
I stare at the broken pieces, a perfect reflection of my own heart, the one I gave to the only man I’ve ever loved, a man who was never worthy of it from the start. It’s almost laughable how I once thought he was the perfect match for me. That we would last a lifetime together.
But in reality, it was all an illusion, a lie he brought into our lives because the thrill of someone new and his selfish desires were more important than his family.
Yeah, fuck that! And fuck him! He can rot in hell for all I care!
The sound of the door unlocking, followed by Zac’s pealing laughter, snaps me from my daze. I jump up and rush to the laundry for the broom and dustpan.
Seconds later, Zac barrels through the kitchen, his sports bag slung over his shoulder, and right behind him comes the devil himself, Adrian.
“Shit, mum! What happened?” my son asks, his voice pitched with alarm.
“Zac! Language!” Adrian barks from behind him before his gaze falls onto the mess on the floor. “Oh, shit! What happened, babe?”
It’s eerie how alike my son and his father are, like two peas in a pod. From their expressions down to their mannerisms, the resemblance is undeniable. I used to find their similaritiesutterly adorable, something that made my heart swell with pride. Now, I find myself silently praying that Zac never grows up to be like his father.
I’ll raise him to be better, to have more respect for women, and to never become the kind of man who could so easily betray the people who love and trust him most.
I begin sweeping the broken glass, careful not to step on any of the sharp pieces.
“I accidentally knocked the cup off the island,” I lie. It was definitely no accident, and I’d happily destroy every other item he’s ever given me. “Don’t walk through here until I’ve finished cleaning this up.”
“Is that the cup I gave you for Mother’s Day last year?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I guess I’ll have to get you a new one then.”
“She already has a million cups, Dad. She doesn’t need anymore,” Zac interjects.
“Your mother can never have enough cups, right babe?”
“Zac’s right. I don’t need anything more from you.” The words spill out too fast, too cold, and the way Adrian freezes tells me he feels the shift in my tone just as sharply as I do.
“Are you okay?” he asks, a trace of concern threading through his voice.
“I’m fine,” I murmur, sweeping the glass into the dustpan. “Zac, do you want to go over Marcus’ house tomorrow? Your dad and I have something important to do.”
“We do?” my husband asks, confusion briefly clouding his expression. He opens his mouth to continue, but our eager son jumps in before he can utter another word.
“Oh, can I please?”
“Of course. Let me give Danielle a call.” I walk over to Adrian and press the broom against his chest. “You can finish cleaning up. I’m going to make a quick call.”
