My Husband Traded Our Family of Four for His Mistress — Three Years Later, I Met Them Again, and It Was Perfectly Satisfying

He started working late.

At first, I brushed it off—“Just a project,” he said. “Deadlines.”

I told myself it was normal. That he still loved us, even if he seemed distant.

If only I’d known.

It was a Tuesday—I remember because I was making alphabet soup for Lily. The front door opened early, followed by the sharp click of heels.

“Stan?” I called out, wiping my hands.