The Price of His Betrayal

An unknown number messaged me a picture.

My husband, Clyde Sherwood, showed up in a baby store instead of going on a business trip as planned. The picture showed him gently putting his arm around a woman.

She was lifting her belly with one hand and drawing the other behind to support her back. It was a typical pregnant woman's posture.

They would exchange opinions regarding a displayed good from time to time, resembling future parents who looked forward to their child's birth.

My mind instantly went blank at the sight. I couldn't process what I had seen.

I dialed his number, but he didn't answer the call.

Instead, he sent me a message, saying he was in a meeting.

After staring at the message for a long time, I finally grabbed the car key and headed out.

I needed to see it before I believed it.

I recognized the shopping mall in the picture. It was just nearby. I would arrive at my destination in twenty minutes by car if I drove fast.

…

When I arrived, the pair was still browsing for a stroller in the store.

Clyde had a gentle smile on his face. He would occasionally run his hands over the surface of the stroller as he talked to the woman. He also consulted the shopping guide, treating the matter seriously as if evaluating the investment value of a big project.

The sight was touching, but somehow it stung my eyes.

The last time he accompanied me on a shopping trip was like a lifetime ago. I had to force him to join me that time. He was glued to the couch the whole time.

He would agree with whatever I chose, but those were more of a perfunctory response instead of a genuine answer.

The man in the store was like a stranger to me.

I suddenly felt dizzy.

I patiently waited at the public seating as my husband and his mistress picked out essentials for their baby.

…

About two hours later, they got everything they wanted.

I watched as he checked out at the counter and gave the cashier the delivery address. Then, the pair left the store arm in arm in good spirits.

His smile froze when he spotted me.

The woman beside him visibly tensed when she noticed me. She reached out for his hand for comfort.

I glanced at their joined hands and forced myself to smile. Meeting his eyes, I asked, "Do you want to tell me something?"

Clyde regained his composure after the initial panic. He handed her the things they bought and the car key he was holding, softly urging, "Go on without me."

She cast a nervous look at me. Chewing her lip, she nodded in reluctance.

He stroked her back soothingly.

It was the last straw.

Driven by anger, I squared up to the woman and extended an arm to stop her. "Where are you going? It's not every day I find my husband cheating on me. We need to talk now. Don't you dare run—"

Clyde put a hand on my shoulder, but I threw his hand off.

"Get your hand off me!" The way he shared an intimate moment with her earlier made me nauseous.

His eyes widened in disbelief. He had never expected me to swat his hand away.

He was on the verge of losing his temper, but he changed his mind after reading the emotions stirring in my eyes—hatred and hurt. He softly said, "It's not what it looks like, Anya. Let's go home. I'll tell you everything at home."

I returned his gaze mockingly, a wry smile curling my lips. "It's exactly what it looks like! You have been unfaithful and have been having an affair! And now she's carrying your child!"

I screamed at him, and a pang struck my chest.

At that moment, realization belatedly dawned on me. The man I had loved for twelve years had cheated on me.

I closed my eyes as I announced, "Let's get a divorce, Clyde."