Three months after having twins, I received pictures and a video from my best friend, Phoebe Doyle.
In the photos, my husband, Derrick Wells, was hugging another woman. The video was even more explicit, showing the two of them kissing in a car.
Phoebe anxiously asked, "Do you know Derrick has a mistress?"
I replied calmly, "I do."
Derrick's cheating wasn't new to me. I found out about his affair five months into my second pregnancy.
Back then, I screamed, cried, and moved back to my parents' house. Three months postpartum, I was still staying there.
At home, my mom played with the babies while glancing at me. "You're almost back to your pre-baby figure."
I touched my soft belly and smiled. The 90 thousand dollars I spent on a personal trainer and nutritionist had been worth it.
My mom studied my face with a mix of relief and sorrow. "Derrick stopped by earlier."
I hummed in acknowledgment while teasing the babies.
She pressed, "He left when he didn't see you. Are you really planning to divorce him?"
I looked up and shook my head. "No. I'm moving back tomorrow."
She nodded despite her surprise. "It's a relief you've figured things out."
...
The next day, I packed my things and returned home with the babies and the nanny.
After putting William Wells to bed and handing the younger ones to the nanny, I went to take a shower. When I came out, Derrick was home.
My eyes landed on his white shirt and noticed a lipstick stain on the collar. It reminded me of the first time I'd seen such a mark. I had made a scene and involved both our families.
"You're back," he muttered.
"Yeah," I hummed, walking over to the vanity where I began my skincare routine.
"You're not mad anymore?" he asked, watching me intently.
I looked at him in the mirror. "Not at all. I've thought it through. Successful men like you always want escapades outside while keeping things stable at home. I used to be unreasonable and caused too much drama. From now on, I'll be a good wife and make sure you have nothing to worry about."
He was both stunned and hesitant.
I continued brushing my hair and, noticing the time, said, "It's late. Let's rest."
When I stood up, he tried to hug me.
"Go take a shower. You're reeking of alcohol," I said, lightly pushing him away.
...
The next day, I met with my financial advisor.
At her advice, I turned part of the assets my dad left me into gold, funds, and fixed-term investments. The rest of them stayed in my account, with which I planned to buy commercial properties.
Then I went to the notary's office. In case anything happened to me, all my assets would be divided equally among my mom and my three kids. If my mom passed away, it would go entirely to my children.
The staff asked, "What about your husband?"
I shrugged. "He's wealthier than I am. He doesn't need my money."
When I returned home, Derrick was there.
"You're home early today," I greeted him.
"It's Saturday," he replied, noticing the bags in my hand. "What's that?"
"I bought a few properties. Could you check if they're good investments?"
He reviewed the contracts. "These prices are reasonable. Jewelspire Avenue is a key area in the government's new development plan. It'll thrive in a few years."
"That's a relief," I said, taking the contracts to the bedroom to organize.
Derrick followed me and stood at the door. I ignored him, distracted by a message on my phone.
I heard him mention Phoebe, so I responded casually, "She called me two days ago. Why?"
The message was from William's kindergarten teacher. For Children's Day, the school planned a parent-child fashion show.
Derrick faltered, "Did she tell you anything?"
"She did," I said, looking at him. "Forget about her. The kindergarten is holding a family event next weekend. Are you free to join?"
He paused. "Sure. Let's go together."
William, who had been playing with blocks, ran over and hugged me.
He chirped excitedly, "Mommy, are you and Daddy really coming? You won't leave me behind again?"
A pang of guilt hit me. Last year, I skipped the Children's Day event to spite Derrick. I still felt awful when I remembered his disappointment.
I hugged him, stroked his hair, and promised, "We will be there with you, sweetheart."
