The Affair That Destroyed Him and Freed Me

Faye's POV

Seven months into my second pregnancy, I stumbled across Dwight Patton's chat box with his mistress. They were filled with flirtatious messages and explicit photos.

At first, I brushed it off, thinking most men probably stray a little during times like these. I wanted to turn a blind eye, for the sake of our family.

But then came his birthday. I went out of my way to prepare a lavish dinner, hoping to make the day special. I thought he’d only invite a few close friends over. But to my surprise, he also brought her—his mistress.

She didn’t even try to hide her smugness, throwing insults my way as if daring me to react. And him? He just sat there, pretending not to notice. Worse, he called me petty when I showed the slightest displeasure.

As I bustled around, trying to keep things together, he laughed and flirted with her right in front of me. He even let her mock my appearance.

“Seven months, right? Those stretch marks must be wild,” she said with a smirk.

“Pregnancy is so gross,” she added, turning to him. “I’m never going to go through that!”

He just smiled, reassuring her, “Then don’t, okay?”

Our friends watched it all unfold like it was some twisted comedy.

——

Soon, I got fed up and couldn’t take it anymore. I demanded an apology from her. But before I could finish my words, Dwight jumped to her defense.

“Faye, it’s just a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously?” His voice was sharp, and his eyes were filled with disdain.

“Besides, look at yourself—swollen, fat. Wasn’t she just telling the truth? Stop acting like some bitter old woman. It's so annoying!”

His words cut deep, like a blade slicing straight into my heart.

Anger and humiliation surged through me. I slammed my cutlery onto the table and stormed off, locking myself in the bedroom with a loud bang.

But I could still hear his furious voice echoing through the apartment behind the door. “You're unbelievable, Faye! If you’ve got the guts, then just leave this house!”

But then, as if flipping a switch, I heard him console his guests with a soft voice, telling them to ignore me.

As such, I collapsed onto the bed in my dark bedroom. Tears flowed freely as pain and frustration overwhelmed me.

'Am I really a bitter old woman?' I questioned myself as my heart ached.

I’d been married to him for six years. I was about to bring his second child into the world, and yet, he could humiliate me like this.

I wasn’t always like this. I used to work at a Fortune 500 company, confident, successful, and radiant. But when we had our first child, I gave up my career to be a stay-at-home mom. Slowly, I became… this.

He had promised me back then that he’d earn enough to give me and the kids a comfortable life. But now, he looked at me with nothing but contempt, calling me an aging, unattractive housewife.

And yet, wasn’t it all because of him?

I remembered the day I gave birth to our first child. The baby was in the wrong position, and I couldn’t deliver naturally. A C-section was the only option.

On the operating table, his mother argued relentlessly about whether I should have anesthesia, insisting it would harm the baby. It wasn’t until my father arrived and signed the consent form that I was finally able to have the surgery.

However, the scar on my stomach after that surgery, the mark of everything I’d sacrificed for this family, was now just another thing he despised.

After the birth, I wanted to hire help—someone to assist with the baby and household chores. But he refused, claiming strangers couldn’t be trusted. He then suggested bringing his mother to live with us instead, despite knowing full well we didn’t get along.

As expected, his mother criticized me constantly, calling me spoiled, and saying women in her day had it much harder and never complained.

Those days were hell. Soon, the constant stress and her cruelty pushed me into postpartum depression. It wasn’t until my condition worsened that he reluctantly sent her away.