The Cat That Exposed His Affair

When my husband's cat sank its teeth into my ankle for the twelfth time, something inside me finally snapped.

"Joshua, today it's either me or the cat. If that animal stays, I go!"

Blood trickled down my skin, staining my sock, yet Joshua didn't even glance at the wound. Instead, he scooped up the hissing creature and cradled it against his chest, soothing it with a tenderness he rarely showed me.

"Paige, it's just a beast. Why take your anger out on him? You startled him."

For a long time, I convinced myself he was simply an animal lover.

That illusion shattered the day the college student Joshua sponsored came to our home for the first time.

The cat, usually a demon in fur, transformed into an angel.

Not only did it drag its favorite toy over to Brooklyn, but it curled up in her lap, nuzzling her hand and purring like a motor.

The scene was too domestic—as if she were the true mistress of this house.

I stood frozen, the realization hitting me like a physical blow: my five-year marriage was over.

——

"Paige? Why are you just standing there? Brooklyn is here—hurry up and cook."

Joshua frowned, nudging me toward the kitchen.

I looked at him, my face draining of color, praying my instincts were wrong. But when I turned back, Brooklyn was scratching the cat behind the ears with practiced ease.

She lifted the creature—the same one I couldn't get within three feet of—and planted a kiss on its nose.

In her arms, Coco was docile as a puppet.

She beamed, eyes crinkling into crescents of pure joy. "Joshua, Coco is just too cute! You've taken such good care of her—she's gotten so much chubbier."

My blood ran cold.

"This is your first time at our house," I said, my voice trembling. "How do you know the cat's name is Coco?"

Brooklyn's smile faltered. Panic flashed across her face, and her eyes darted toward Joshua.

He cut in immediately, voice rising. "I posted about the cat on my feed. Brooklyn probably saw it there."

"Right, yes! Paige, I saw it on Joshua's feed."

His feed?

A sharp, twisting pain bloomed in my chest.

Joshua was a private man, cold and reserved. He detested sharing his personal life online. The only post he'd ever made was the day before our wedding—and only because I'd forced him to invite guests. Even then, he deleted it three days later.

Since then, his profile had been a blank slate. Where would she have seen a cat?

The way their eyes met—a secret, panicked exchange—confirmed everything.

The scene drove deep like a thorn, popping the balloon of my ridiculous seven-year romance and five-year marriage.

Before I could voice the accusation on my tongue, Joshua shoved me toward the kitchen.

"Alright, enough. Brooklyn is a guest. Whatever this is, we'll talk later. Go cook."

He tied an apron around my waist, pressed a perfunctory kiss to my forehead, and turned his back to rejoin her in the living room.

I stood at the sink, turning on the faucet mechanically. The rushing water couldn't drown out their laughter drifting from the other room.

It was the first time I'd heard Joshua laugh with such abandon.

My fingernails dug into my palms until the skin broke.

Suddenly, a sharp scream pierced the air. Coco's claws had accidentally grazed the back of Brooklyn's hand.

Joshua panicked. The man who claimed he couldn't bear to discipline a "beast" slapped the cat hard.

"Coco! Have you lost your mind? If I don't teach you a lesson, you'll be completely out of control!"

Startled, Coco screeched and bolted through the room.

In its frenzy, the cat knocked over the custom Gundam model on the shelf—a gift Joshua had assembled using our wedding photos. It hit the floor with a sickening crunch, parts shattering across the tiles.

When I stepped out of the kitchen, the panicked cat lunged again, biting down hard on my ankle.

I cried out, cold sweat breaking across my back as fresh pain seared through the unhealed wound.

Joshua rushed over with the first-aid kit.

But he didn't stop.

He walked right past me, ignoring my bleeding leg, and dropped to his knees beside Brooklyn.

"Does it hurt? Let me see."

He gently disinfected her hand and applied a bandage. The scratch was superficial—it hadn't even broken the skin.

Meanwhile, my ankle throbbed with pain so intense I could barely stand, yet to him, I was invisible.

In that moment, the last ember of affection in my heart died.

I untied the apron, threw it onto the floor, and looked down at him.

"I want a divorce."