After My Husband Cheated Novels & Stories

Disgusted to the core, I hung up the phone. Today, I discovered a hidden side of my husband, who had been seen as a devoted and exemplary spouse for many years. Tears streamed down my face as my heart felt like it was being ripped apart. During the early stages of my pregnancy, I struggled with low progesterone and severe morning sickness. Even a sip of water would make me vomit. The doctor recommended bed rest, and Max insisted that I quit my job to focus on the pregnancy. With more time at home, I often found myself scrolling through the internet and stumbling upon various posts by pregnant women whose husbands had cheated on them during their pregnancies.

I laugh bitterly. "What reason could you possibly still have to keep giving me white lies?!" "What reason is still keeping you from just admitting your wrongs?!" My voice breaks. My heart does too. "You simply got bored! While I was in prison, Adam!" His head tilts immediately at my words. "Yes! You got bored, and you found someone else." "You're a cheater!" "You slept with Cassie while you were still my husband! While I was still your wife!" His eyes grow red instantly. The word cheater seems to detonate something in him each time I mention it.

STORY 7. Hi, I’m Chloe. My husband cheated on me and I divorced him. The bell above the studio door chimed softly as I stepped inside. My sensible cardigan was pulled tight around my shoulders, and my heart was hammering so loudly I was sure the artist could hear it from the back room.

They had been speaking all along. My hands trembled so badly I could barely hold the phone. It almost slipped from my grip. My chest tightened. It felt like my breath was being stolen from me. I wanted to scream—to shout until my voice broke. I knew what I was looking at. I had seen cheating before. And this, without any doubt, was exactly that. Abraham—my husband, the man who had always been the sweetest, the most gentle—had been cheating on me. And not just recently. This had been going on for a long time.

I pulled away in revulsion. He was sobbing uncontrollably, tears and snot running together. "Audrey, I really do know I was wrong! Chloe—that lying witch—she tricked me. Brandon isn't even mine!" "You're all I have! Can't we just start over?" "Don't you remember when we first started college? I couldn't afford to eat, and you split your meal card with me." "When we first got married, we were renting that basement apartment—no heat in the dead of winter."

“I called to ask if you want me to go through with this marriage or not! I’m getting married tomorrow, Isla. Just say the damn word and I’ll call it off.” I blinked. Oh? I glanced down at my screen. Auto-recording: on. Good. This would make a nice addition to my little collection of chaos. “No,” I said breezily. “Not interested.” “You were in love with me. How the hell did you just stop?” I chuckled. “Guess I never was. You were a rebound. And honestly? I was just pissed you cheated first. That’s all.” He growled on the other end. “What the fuck does that mean? You think any man would want you now that I’ve fucked you and you had a baby for me?!”

He'd spoiled me rotten. Who would've known that after just one year of marriage, he would start cheating on me? He'd had one affair after another and slowly turned into the person I despised the most. And now, despite Finn's life hanging by a thread, he could make it sound like it was nothing. "Michael Grant, I'm definitely taking you to court for my son's sake!" I snapped. He actually laughed like he found me ridiculous. He jabbed a finger toward the ICU, where Finn lay. "All that for that bastard in there?"

"And you destroyed a dying patient's only lifeline over some pathetic jealousy!" "You are cold-blooded beyond belief!" I looked at that agonized face of his and let out a low laugh. The laughter grew louder, echoing through the empty hospital room, eerie and unhinged. The iterative drug I'd poured my heart and soul into formulating for her — she'd smashed it with her own hands. And this husband of mine, so quick to accuse me of being cold-blooded — He couldn't even read the encrypted lab serial number on that culture dish. My serial number.

He once swore he would be my husband, that we would be together for life. When he was a teenager, he moved abroad with his family. At the airport, he clutched my hand, sobbing, begging me to wait—promising he would come back. I waited. And waited. But he never returned. The tenderness of youth faded with time. I found a new love, a new marriage. I thought happiness would last forever. But I never imagined my husband's heart would belong to another woman. And that my unborn child would become nothing more than the lifeline to his so-called "true love."

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN SO DAMN HOT For the better part of the last two months, I had convinced myself that the most dramatic, life-altering thing that could possibly happen to me had already happened. My husband cheated, shattered everything I thought we had built, and left me standing in the wreckage of a marriage I had believed was untouchable. That, I had assumed, was the peak of chaos. Clearly, I had underestimated life.