It was a regular Saturday morning. My husband, Ryan, and I planned to run errands with our four-year-old son, Sam. After breakfast, we headed out to buy fruit and replace our broken vacuum.
At the store, Ryan wandered off while Sam and I looked at vacuums. A saleswoman’s rude remark about my ability to afford a model stung, but before I could respond, Sam ran up to her, lifted her skirt, and yelled, “Mommy, look! That’s why she’s angry!”
I caught a glimpse of a tattoo on her thigh before she covered it. Sam then blurted, “I saw it in Dad’s office! He was holding her leg and said her tattoo was sore.”
Shocked, I turned to the saleswoman, whose confidence turned to fear. Ryan appeared at that moment, his cheerful expression vanishing when he saw her. I told him, “We’ll discuss this at home.”
That night, I confronted Ryan. He confessed to having an affair with the saleswoman, Sasha, which had been going on for over a year. He admitted Sam had unknowingly witnessed their relationship one day when daycare ended early, leaving him to bring Sam to work.
Heartbroken, I filed for divorce. The weeks that followed were painful, but I focused on keeping life stable for Sam, who didn’t fully understand the situation. With the help of my lawyer, I fought for what we deserved, determined to rebuild our lives.
