I sacrificed my own dreams to keep my husband’s life flawless. To keep him flawless.
For years, my existence revolved around maintaining the illusion of perfection that Victor demanded: a spotless house, perfectly cooked meals, crisply ironed shirts, and the carefully constructed smiles we wore at every gathering.
To outsiders, we were the ideal couple: he, a respected architect; me, the “lucky” wife who didn’t need to work because I could stay home and maintain the perfect life.
I told myself it was love.
But the truth? Less romantic.
Victor liked things a certain way.
The way I knew how to do.
I even made myself a small reminder list once, just to keep it all straight:
HUBBY’S LIST
Never onions in sauces
Steak—medium rare, thick cut
Roses in the garden—year-round bloom
Shirts ironed perfectly, collars stiff
️ Bedsheets—snow-white, hotel crisp
Kitchen spotless, no crumbs
Tea set polished every Sunday
Herbs by the window—fresh, never dried
Looking back, I can’t tell if I was devoted or delusional.
Victor wasn’t cruel in obvious ways—he didn’t yell or insult—but he had a way of making me feel small.
Whenever I spoke about my painting ideas or freelance work, he’d smile dismissively: “Darling, you don’t need to worry about that. Focus on the house—you do that so well.”
So I did. I polished our life until it gleamed.
But over time, the shine hurt my eyes.
It began with little things: late-night “client dinners,” his phone always in hand, the faint perfume on his shirts. He laughed them off when I asked.
“You think I’d cheat on you?” he said one night, pouring scotch. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Ridiculous.
I wasn’t ridiculous. I was observant. And tired of pretending not to notice.
One Thursday evening, I decided to stop being the perfect wife and start being the curious one.
Victor claimed he had a downtown meeting, but I noticed something strange: no laptop—just a phone, wallet, and a duffel bag with clothes.
My pulse raced. I followed him.
The night was thick and humid as I tailed him through quiet streets and down the freeway to a part of town I barely knew.
He parked outside a sleek boutique hotel. I stayed two blocks away and waited.
Through the lobby windows, I saw him meet a woman. Stylish, confident, laughing, touching his arm. He leaned in—too close.
My stomach turned.
I needed more than a glimpse. I needed proof.
I followed them inside, hiding near the elevators, heart hammering. The display read: 7. Room 714.
Then a man in a gray jacket appeared, crouched by the door, attaching a small device. Camera or microphone, I didn’t know.
“Ma’am,” he whispered, finger to lips. “I’m not here for you.”
“Who are you?”
“Private investigator. I was hired to follow him.”
“Hired? By who?”
He hesitated. “Not another jealous spouse. I can’t say more.”
I froze as Victor exited the room, shirt slightly undone. The investigator signaled, stay here. I followed them both, trailing him down the stairwell.
Victor handed a thick envelope to a suited man, who flipped through it and walked away.
The investigator turned to me. “Mrs. Grant, he’s not just cheating. He’s selling something he shouldn’t.”
Corporate espionage. My heartbreak became something darker.
Victor’s world was collapsing around him. I drove home silently, hands shaking.
When he returned, I confronted him: “Which client, Victor—the one in bed with you, or the one you’re selling plans to?”
Fear finally flickered in his eyes. For the first time in years, he had no answer.
Two days later, his firm announced “internal investigations into employee misconduct.” His accounts frozen. Reputation destroyed.
And me? I finally slept through the night.
The house felt different. No invisible fingerprints, no impossible rules. I left crumbs on the counter, hung shirts without ironing, bought pink roses because I wanted to.
The HUBBY’S LIST? Gone. A reminder of how small I’d made myself to fit someone else’s version of perfect.
I brewed tea, opened my sketchbook for the first time in years, and let the garden grow wild. Messy, unpredictable, mine.
And that, I decided, is exactly how my life would be from now on.