I had been married for eight years and had two lovely children. After giving birth, I stayed home to care for the kids and manage the household. At first, it felt unfamiliar, but gradually, I came to enjoy the rhythm of being a wife and mother so my husband could focus on earning money for the family.
When both children started school, I decided to return to work. I didn’t want my husband to shoulder all the financial pressure alone. I had been out of the workforce for years — I was slower than before, rusty, and unsure of myself. But after months of trying, not asking for high pay, I finally found a job that fit me. And by luck or fate, I met a boss who was truly kind. He guided me, encouraged me, and never made me feel inadequate despite my many shortcomings. After five months of hard work, he recognized my progress, and my relationship with my coworkers improved as well.
One day, while my boss was out of the office, he asked me to stop by his home to pick up an important set of documents. Following the address he gave, I arrived at a luxurious villa. His wife — a graceful, elegant woman — welcomed me warmly. We chatted for a bit, and then their young son walked out of the living room.
The moment I saw the boy’s face, I went cold. Something inside me trembled. I found myself staring at the child, overwhelmed by a strange feeling I couldn’t explain. Why… why did this boy look almost exactly like my own son? The resemblance was uncanny — the eyes, the smile, the dimple on the left cheek… everything.
When I returned home, I tried to sound casual as I told my husband, “It’s strange… I feel like our son looks a lot like my boss’s son.”
My husband didn’t even blink. His face remained unreadable as he told me I shouldn’t say such things carelessly — it could cost me my job. There was something off about the way he said it, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The image of the boy kept flashing through my mind. Around midnight, I heard my husband quietly getting up and leaving the bedroom. My instincts screamed at me to follow — so I did, silently. He stepped out to the balcony and made a phone call.
I hid behind the curtain and listened, my heart pounding:
“You should limit how often you meet my wife. If I’d known it would turn out like this, I would’ve kept her at home. I shouldn’t have let her go back to work. If she finds out, everything will fall apart. Our child… no one can ever know.”
I felt the world collapse around me.
Our child?
Limit meeting me?
Kept me at home?
Suddenly, everything made sense.
My husband had a relationship outside our marriage.
And the woman involved… was my boss’s wife.
The boy I saw — the one who looked so much like my son — wasn’t just a coincidence. It was the result of something they had been hiding for years. My husband never wanted me to go back to work because he didn’t want me to stumble upon his secret. He didn’t want me anywhere near that house. Near that family. Near the truth.
I returned to the bedroom in a daze. My chest tightened until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Tears kept falling even though I didn’t remember starting to cry.
What was I supposed to do now?
If I divorced him, I didn’t have enough financial stability yet to raise my children alone.
But if I stayed… how could I live with this pain?
How could I look at him the same way ever again?
I lay awake until sunrise, trapped between two unbearable choices — knowing that no matter what I picked, nothing in my life would ever be the same.
