My husband and I had vowed to be together until death, but I uncovered a terrible secret. Our daughter found out about his double life, and I made him promise he would never hurt me again.
I had been married to Theo for seven years. I was thirty-four, a home-based graphic artist, and I thought our marriage was perfect—until recently. Everything went wrong on the night of his promotion party.
Theo and I were “that” couple that friends often compared themselves to over lunch. People who seemed effortlessly in love. He held my hand while I reached for the sauce, like newlyweds shopping together!
We laughed at the same jokes, finished each other’s sentences, and never ran out of things to say. Even through tough times, we naturally found our rhythm again.
The first two years of trying to have a child were unstable. Every negative test felt like a silent wave crushing my joy. I questioned for months whether I was somehow preventing our family from growing.
After countless doctor appointments, subtle disappointments followed. Watching friends post ultrasound pictures while I stared at empty test strips shattered me. When I finally got pregnant, it felt miraculous—I had assumed I would never carry a child naturally.
When Mira was born, everything fell into place. She was the thread connecting it all, a perfect child for a perfect life. I had no idea what was coming next.
Our four-year-old daughter was smart, curious, and honest. She preferred apple juice without pulp and often interrupted prayers to rush to the bathroom!
Life felt good. Beyond the joy of having a child, things were financially excellent. Theo had become a partner at his firm, and the company threw a beautiful party downtown to celebrate his achievement.
The venue was rustic, with exposed brick and string lights. Mira and I dressed up. I wore a blue dress, and she wore a fluffy pink dress with dragon hair clips.
I brought my well-behaved daughter without hesitation. Everyone seemed to adore Theo. Waiters carried wine glasses, and soft music played. Every third person praised my husband. I couldn’t have been happier. I held Mira’s hand near the dessert table while her dad shook hands and enjoyed the attention.
Then Mira tugged on my sleeve and said something strange while I was chatting with a senior coworker’s wife about preschools.
“Look, Mommy! The lady with worms!”
Some people glanced our way because of her loud voice. I leaned down to her. “Shh, baby. Speak softly. Worms? What worms?”
The woman I had been talking to smiled politely and stepped aside to give us space.
“In her house,” Mira continued confidently. “The red ones. On her bed.”
My throat went dry. “Whose house, honey?”
She pointed. I straightened up and followed her tiny hand across the room.
Leaning against the bar was a woman in a tight black dress, laughing a little too loudly. Red lipstick, beautiful waves in her hair. She seemed to enjoy being noticed.
I had seen her at Theo’s work events before. Two years ago, maybe at a holiday party. Her name was Nora—an accountant, always overly close to my husband. Too chummy, I remembered, narrowing my eyes.
“Daddy said she has worms,” Mira remarked. I froze.
She paused, looking thoughtful, frowning slightly.
I bent closer. “When you what, Mira?”
She blushed. “I shouldn’t say. Daddy said not to talk about the worms. Mommy would be mad.”
My stomach sank.
“Upset?” I asked, just as Theo appeared beside me, drink in hand, his cheeks flushed from the attention.
“Hey,” I said sharply. “Can I talk to you?”
“Now?” he blinked. “I just—”
“Now, Theo.”
I noticed the woman I had been speaking to before Mira spoke the words. I apologized to her and asked her to watch Mira. Then I took Theo aside near the coat closet.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“She says you took her to Nora’s house.”
He blinked, then laughed nervously. “Seriously? Not now, darling. Can we discuss this at home?”
I wanted to confront him immediately, but it wasn’t the right time. I nodded firmly, indicating the conversation wasn’t over. When we returned to the party, tensions were high.
The drive home was quiet. Mira dozed in the backseat, unaware of the storm. Theo drove with one hand on the wheel. I stared out the window, searching for answers.
Once Mira was in bed, I sat him down in the kitchen.
“Our daughter saw red worms on Nora’s bed?”
He tried to explain quickly: “Those were curlers—soft ones. Mira saw them, got scared, and kept talking. I said they were worms so she’d stop. It was nothing.”
“You expect me to believe that?” I pressed.
“It was a joke! Papers Nora forgot to send needed to be picked up. Mira went with me for two minutes. That’s it!”
“In her bedroom?” I asked skeptically.
He replied too quickly, “No! She saw something on her laptop while walking down the hallway.”
Why lie? Why tell our daughter not to speak?
“I didn’t want you to misunderstand,” he said, adjusting his collar.
I didn’t need more proof.
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded.
“I’m telling you the truth! You’re misrepresenting this!”
“Something is wrong. You took our daughter to another woman’s home and told her to lie. She saw the bed!”
“I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Why are you sweating?”
He sighed and left.
I couldn’t sleep that night. Mira’s words—“Mommy would be mad”—kept echoing in my mind. By dawn, I had made my decision.
I messaged Nora using Theo’s work contacts, inviting her to coffee to discuss the upcoming company Christmas party. She responded cheerfully, “Sure thing!”
We met in a small café near her apartment. Elegant hair, white blouse, red nails—she looked like a model. She ordered a premium green tea latte with professional precision.
I got straight to the point. “My daughter says she visited you.”
Her expression didn’t change. I continued, “She mentioned red worms on your bed. Were those soft curlers?”
Nora stirred her cappuccino slowly. “I wondered when you’d notice,” she said calmly.
After understanding the truth, I asked her, crying, “You were okay with this?”
She smiled. “I’m fine with it. Eventually.”
I stood, feeling determined. “He’s yours.”
On the way home, I felt unexpectedly calm. No heartbreak, no anger. Just closure.
In the following weeks, I gathered evidence, contacted a divorce lawyer, arranged custody, and made sure every step protected Mira. Theo didn’t fight. He quickly moved in with Nora.
I hear things aren’t smooth over there. Mira, who no longer sees her dad without Nora, shares updates about arguments and household rules. Theo, once cheerful, now mutters during drop-offs, exhausted by his new life.
As for me? I’m okay. After months of crying over my failing marriage and feeling inadequate, I sleep through the night. I returned to drawing, joined a gym class, and painted glow-in-the-dark stars in Mira’s bedroom.
Sometimes, Mira talks about the past. One night, curled up with her stuffed bear, she asked softly, “Mommy, why doesn’t Daddy live with us?”
I looked into her trusting brown eyes.
“Because he lied about worms,” I said.
She nodded seriously, as if she understood. “Lying is bad.”
“Yes,” I replied. “It is.”
She hugged me tightly. “Thank goodness no worms.”
I laughed. “Me too, baby. Me too.”