Three years after my husband Stan left for his mistress, I unexpectedly saw them again. It wasn’t their downfall that satisfied me, but the strength I’d found to move on without them.
We had been married for fourteen years, with two kids, and I thought we were happy. But when Stan brought his mistress into our home, everything changed. I packed up the kids, Lily and Max, and left that night, determined to rebuild.
The divorce was swift, and I moved into a smaller home, focused on giving the kids stability. Stan stopped paying child support and disappeared from our lives.
Three years later, I unexpectedly saw him and Miranda at a café. Stan, looking worn and defeated, asked to see the kids. But I saw him for what he was—a man who had destroyed everything for nothing. I gave him my number, told him the kids could reach out if they wanted, and walked away.
It wasn’t revenge; it was closure. I had built a life of love and resilience with my kids, and no one could take that away.