I’ve been married for four years, and all this time, my husband has been the perfect partner—hardly even a proper argument to remember.
Lately, we’ve been thinking about having a child, trying and planning, but no luck so far. It’s because of my hormone issues, but even then, my husband’s never blamed me. We agreed that if we can’t have our own, we’ll look into adoption.
I thought we were nearly the perfect family, if only there were a bit more passion—that’s the one thing missing.
I’ve got a good mate, Sophie. She’s not married, so we spend a fair bit of time together, often going shopping. Sophie’s a looker—takes care of herself, hits the gym, and earns well. She knows my husband too—they go to the same gym, though not often at the same time.
I’m not the jealous type, and I trusted my husband—until one day. I popped out to grab some bread for dinner, just as he was due back from the gym. Down the aisles, I saw something ugly—my husband wasn’t just flirting with Sophie, he had his arm around her. They jumped apart when they spotted me, but the damage was done. I burst into tears and bolted, with him chasing after me.
Outside, he swore nothing had happened, that they were just standing close, and I’d imagined it. He sounded convincing, almost enough to make me believe him—almost.
When we got home, I packed a bag and went to my parents’. Didn’t tell Mum or Dad anything—they’ve got strong opinions, and Dad would’ve gone straight round to sort it out. Now I’m here, trying to figure out what’s next. There’s no solid reason for divorce, but I can’t honestly say I love him anymore. Sophie keeps calling, but I don’t want to talk to her either—who knows what she’d say. If she tries to convince me I imagined it, that’ll just make things worse. I don’t trust her now—she’s probably just saving her own skin.
