Motherhood had left me exhausted, and my husband, Nate, seemed to understand. Every evening, he took our baby for a walk so I could rest, and it felt like such a sweet gesture. I trusted him completely. But one night, he forgot his phone at home. Wanting to be helpful, I decided to follow his usual route to return it to him. That was when I discovered something shocking—his route wasn’t usual at all.
I had given birth to our baby boy, Caleb, six months ago, and motherhood had changed everything. The transition was both beautiful and overwhelming. Sleepless nights, constant worry, and an endless cycle of love and exhaustion consumed my days. But through it all, my husband, Nate, seemed to be my rock.
One evening, he walked through the door from work, looking at me with concern. His tie was loosened, and his shirt sleeves were rolled up. He kissed my forehead gently as I rocked a fussy Caleb in my arms.
“You look exhausted,” he said, his voice filled with sympathy.
“That obvious, huh?” I tried to laugh, but it came out more like a sigh.
“Here, let me take him.” Nate reached for Caleb, who immediately settled against his father’s chest. “Actually, I’ve been thinking. You never get a break, Monica. How about I take him for a walk every evening? That way, you’ll have some time to yourself.”
I blinked in surprise. “You’d do that?”
“Of course,” he said with a warm smile. “You deserve it. Plus, I miss spending time with the little guy during the day.”
That night, I took a long, hot bath for the first time in months. I listened to the quiet house, relishing the rare moment of peace. My thoughtful husband had given me a gift, and I was grateful.
“How was your walk?” I asked when he returned, Caleb sleeping peacefully in the stroller.
Nate’s eyes lit up. “Great. Really great. We should make this our thing.”
“I’d like that,” I said, feeling warmth spread through my chest.
And so it began. Every evening at 6:30, Nate would take Caleb out in his stroller. It became our little routine—father-son bonding time for them, and a much-needed break for me.
For weeks, this continued. I watched from the window as they disappeared down the street, Nate pushing the stroller with one hand, phone in the other. When he returned, he always seemed refreshed and energized—too refreshed.
“You really enjoy these walks, don’t you?” I asked one night as he placed a sleeping Caleb in his crib.
“Best part of my day,” he replied, avoiding my eyes.
Something in his voice made me pause, but I pushed the thought away. I wanted to believe he was the devoted father and caring husband I thought he was.
Then came the night everything changed.
Nate had just left with Caleb when his phone buzzed on the kitchen counter. I glanced at the screen—his boss’s name. My first instinct was to grab my coat and run after him. He couldn’t have gone far.
Stepping outside, I spotted him halfway down the block. Just as I was about to call out, something stopped me. A feeling deep in my gut. Instead, I followed at a distance.
Nate didn’t turn toward the park like I always assumed he did. Instead, he walked downtown, pushing the stroller through the evening crowd with practiced ease. My heart pounded as I watched him stop in front of a coffee shop—a place I had never been to.
Then, she appeared. A tall, stunning brunette with effortless confidence. She smiled when she saw him, her eyes lighting up with familiarity. My breath caught in my throat as she bent down, cooed at my baby, and then straightened up—kissing my husband on the cheek.
The sidewalk tilted beneath my feet. My world spun.
They entered the coffee shop together, her hand casually resting on the stroller handle alongside Nate’s, like they had done this a hundred times before.
That night, I didn’t confront him. I left his phone where he had forgotten it and pretended to be asleep when he came home. I needed to be sure.
“Did you have a nice walk?” I asked the next evening, feigning grogginess.
“Same as always,” he said smoothly, unbuckling Caleb from the stroller. “The park was nice.”
Liar.
I followed him again the next evening, this time with a plan. The next morning, as soon as he left for work, I bought a plastic baby doll the same size as Caleb and wrapped it in his blanket. I nestled a small baby monitor beside it and placed the bundle in the stroller.
That night, as Nate got ready for his usual walk, he didn’t even glance inside the stroller before leaving. He just grabbed the handle and walked out the door.
My heart pounded as I waited a few minutes before following. I clutched the baby monitor receiver in my hand, listening.
And then I heard them.
“Are you sure this is okay?” the woman’s voice crackled through the speaker. “I feel guilty.”
“It’s fine,” Nate replied. “She doesn’t suspect a thing. She’s too exhausted from the baby to notice.”
The woman sighed. “I just don’t want to hurt her.”
Nate laughed—a cold, heartless sound. “Hurt her? She’s just my wife. I had to marry her because of Caleb. But you—you’re the one I really want.”
My hands trembled.
“And how long are you going to pretend you love her?” she asked.
Nate chuckled. “Until she gets her inheritance from her grandma. Then she’ll give me some money for being a ‘wonderful’ husband.”
I snapped.
I stormed into the café, my blood boiling. “Oh, don’t stop on my account.”
Nate nearly choked on his coffee. The woman’s face went pale.
I yanked back the blanket in the stroller, revealing the plastic doll. “Looking for Caleb?” I asked coldly.
“What the hell—” Nate stammered.
“Interesting question. I was about to ask you the same thing.”
His mistress stood abruptly. “Nate, you said she knew—”
“Knew what?” I turned to her. “That my husband is a liar? That he’s using our son as a prop to cheat on me?”
I pulled off my wedding ring and let it fall onto the table with a sharp clink.
“Enjoy each other,” I said, voice steady. “Because you just lost the best thing you had.”
And with that, I walked away.
The divorce was swift. Nate didn’t fight for custody or the house. He disappeared.
Months later, my friend Mia called. “Guess what? Your ex got dumped. His mistress was engaged to someone else the whole time.”
I should have been vindicated. Instead, I felt free.
A year passed. I ran into Nate at a grocery store. He looked older, broken.
“Monica,” he said, glancing at Caleb. “He’s gotten so big.”
“Children do that,” I replied.
“I was thinking—”
“Don’t.” I cut him off. “Whatever you’re about to say, save it.”
He swallowed. “I messed up.”
“Yes, you did.”
As Caleb and I walked away, he waved at Nate. “Bye-bye!” he chirped.
I didn’t look back. Some chapters are better left closed. And the best revenge? Moving forward, without them.
