And then I saw Evan.
He wasn’t alone.
There was a woman in my kitchen. In my apron. She had her hair in a messy bun, standing barefoot, scrambling eggs like she lived there.
I just stood there, numb. My hands were still on the door handle. Evan looked up, and the color drained from his face. He stuttered, “Babe… you’re home early.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t move. My whole body was cold, like my nerves had shut off to stop me from falling apart.
The woman finally turned around, spatula in hand. She looked at me, then at Evan. And then—smiled. “So… this is her?”
I felt my stomach twist. My mom was barely in the ground. I had spent months holding her hand, watching her waste away, crying myself to sleep every night. And the entire time, my husband was here—playing house with someone else.
Evan rushed forward, babbling excuses. “It’s not what it looks like. She’s just… she was helping me. I was lonely. I was stressed.”
“Helping you?” My voice cracked into something ugly. “Helping you with what, Evan? The dishes? The bed? The grief you were supposed to share with me?”
Silence. His face said everything his words couldn’t.
I dropped my bags on the floor. My wedding ring suddenly felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. “My mom died, Evan. And while I was burying her, you were screwing someone in our house.”
The other woman had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic. If you weren’t gone for months, maybe he wouldn’t have needed me.”
That snapped something in me. I didn’t scream. I didn’t cry. I just turned, walked back out the door, and said, “You’ve already lost me. Consider this my last chore for you—taking out the trash.”
I left.
That night, I checked into a hotel. The next morning, I called a lawyer.
Evan texted, called, begged. Promised it was “just a mistake.” But when a man cheats on you while you’re caring for your dying mother? That’s not a mistake. That’s who he is.
I loved him once. But now? All I could feel was disgust.
And as painful as it was, I realized something freeing: I’d already survived the worst loss of my life when I lost my mom. Losing Evan was nothing compared to that.
I wasn’t broken. I was done.