The Truth I Couldn’t Deny
But when I got home that evening, the truth met me at the door. The sound of laughter—his voice, her voice—floated down from upstairs.
My legs shook as I climbed. My hand trembled on the doorknob. And when I opened it—
There they were. Henry and Stacy. In my bed.
The world blurred. My ears rang. My chest felt crushed.
Henry scrambled, pulling at his clothes. “May—”
But Stacy? She smirked, hair tumbling over her shoulders, her voice laced with venom. “I’ve always been better than you.”
Henry’s next words stabbed like knives. “Stacy takes care of herself. You’ve let yourself go.”
My hand flew to my stomach. “I’m carrying your child!”
His face was stone. “I don’t even know if that’s true.”
Tears spilled, hot and fast. My throat ached. Then he delivered the final blow: “I want a divorce. Leave tonight. The house is mine.”
Something inside me snapped. My voice shook, but I found steel. “We’ll see how long you last without me. You haven’t had a job in six months.”
But Stacy only laughed, flashing a bracelet I’d never seen before. “Look at what he gives me. You could never compete.”
I walked out with nothing but my car and my pride.
