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MidReal Story
My Betrayed Heart
Scenario:It was our first year of marriage. I was at work. And my wife Jane told me not to come home until midnight because she would have her co-workers discuss an important project. But that was no longer the case. "What is she up to?", I murmured to myself. I had my legal team on speed dial if things turned ugly. But a few hours later, when the clock strikes midnight, I return home and enter the living room. Then I hear Jane with another man in our bedroom. To my shock, when I go there, I see discarded clothes all over the floor and them making out
"You're so much better than my husband", she said to her lover. At that moment, I felt like I was punched in the gut. My own wife said that? My own wife?!
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Jack
loving, and naive. Jack marries Jane, thinking she is perfect. He returns home early from work, expecting Jane to be busy on a project. Instead, he finds Jane cheating with another man. Heartbroken, he confronts her but ultimately decides to end their marriage. Jack struggles with the betrayal and his own heartache as he realizes the end of his relationship.
Ben
known for handling sensitive personal matters. He is professional, discreet, and strategic. Ben plays a supportive role in helping Jack navigate the legal aspects of his broken marriage. Though not directly involved in the emotional turmoil of the separation, his presence ensures that Jack remains prepared and protected throughout the ordeal of discovering Jane's infidelity and subsequent divorce proceedings.
Jane
seductive, and deceitful. Jane initially presents herself as a devoted wife. However, her true nature is revealed when she has an affair with another man in Jack's home. Her words "you're so much better than my husband" cut deep for Jack, highlighting her lack of loyalty and love for him. She leaves Jack to face the consequences of her infidelity alone.
It was our first year of marriage.
I was at work; Jane told me not to come home until midnight because she would have her co-workers over to discuss an important project.
But that was no longer the case.
"What is she up to?"
I murmured to myself.
I had my legal team on speed dial in case things turned ugly, but I didn't think that would be necessary.
I was so wrong.
After a few hours, when the clock struck midnight, I made my way home.
As I stepped into the living room, I noticed it was spotless—no sign of a group discussion having taken place.
Minimize mess, maximize modern style; that was pretty much the mantra of our entire home.
Jane had a thing for modern style, and I guess it was also her thing to make sure the house looked presentable at all times.
Well, hell, she got that from her mom—both were perfectionists.
I admired that about her; it was one of many things I loved.
Returning from work that evening, I had assumed Jane would have long gone home to sleep since her supposed discussion with coworkers would have ended hours ago.
Little did I know what awaited me.
As I approached our bedroom, I heard the sound of kissing lips, followed by seductive moans.
My heart sank immediately.
Jane's voice filled the airwaves, and my world began to crumble.
I felt as though I'd been punched in the gut.
I stood frozen in the doorway, my hands trembling against the wooden frame.
The dim light from the hallway spilled into our bedroom, casting long shadows across the scattered clothes strewn all over the floor.
Jane jerked away from her lover, fumbling with the sheets to cover herself.
Her lipstick was smeared, and her usually perfectly styled hair now looked disheveled.
As I took in the sight before me, my gaze fell upon the man lying beside her—the man she had been kissing.
Recognition hit me like a ton of bricks.
It was David, Jane's project manager.
My throat constricted, and bile rose in my throat.
I felt like I'd been punched in the gut again.
The wedding photo on our nightstand seemed to mock me with its presence, a painful reminder of what I had lost.
My legs carried me into the room, my movements almost involuntary.
Jane clutched the sheets to her chest, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and shame.
David scrambled to find his pants on the floor, his face pale as he struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.
"How long?"
I managed to ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jane's eyes welled up with tears, and she began to sob.
But something about her tears didn't feel genuine.
They seemed rehearsed, almost like a well-planned act.
David, now partially dressed, stepped forward with his hands raised in a defensive gesture.
"Look, man, this isn't what you think."
His voice quivered as he tried to explain himself, but I wasn't interested in his excuses.
I clenched my fists tightly, knuckles turning white with rage building inside me. The wedding photo on the nightstand caught my attention once again.
It was as though it was taunting me, reminding me of the vows we had made to each other—vows that Jane had broken so callously.
In a fit of anger, I grabbed the frame and hurled it against the wall.
The glass shattered into a thousand pieces as it hit the floor.
Jane flinched at the sound of breaking glass, her eyes darting towards me with a mix of fear and desperation.
I couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking in that moment—did she regret her actions?
Or was she simply worried about how this would affect her own life?
I took a step closer to her, my fists still clenched tightly at my sides.
David, realizing he was no longer needed, quickly grabbed his tie and fled the room.
As he disappeared into the hallway, I turned my attention back to Jane.
She scrambled to get dressed, her hands shaking as she tried to button up her blouse.
The wedding photo's broken glass crunched beneath my feet as I took another step closer to her.
The air was thick with tension, and the scent of perfume lingered in the air—a stark reminder of what had happened in this room.
I stood at the foot of our bed, my body trembling with anger and betrayal.
Jane's mascara ran down her cheeks as she fumbled with her buttons, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
It was a stark contrast to the confident woman I had married just a year ago—the woman whose fingers had slipped a wedding ring onto mine with such conviction. My voice came out steady, despite the turmoil raging within me.
"Jane, explain yourself or we're done."
She spotted her phone on the nightstand and lunged for it, but I was quicker.
I snatched it from her grasp, holding it out of her reach.
Jane took a step closer, her eyes pleading with me.
"Give me my phone. I can explain everything."
But I held it just beyond her grasp, my thumb hovering over the unlock button.
Her voice cracked as she begged me to stop, but I couldn't bring myself to listen.
I unlocked the phone, my heart pounding in my chest.
To my surprise, she had never changed the code—it was still the same one I knew from our dating days.
With a deep breath, I opened her messages, scrolling through the conversations listed on the screen.
The conversation thread with David appeared first, and I clicked on it hesitantly.
Dozens of intimate messages flashed before my eyes, each one detailing their secret meetings and plans.
Photos of them together—photos that made my stomach twist with disgust—filled the screen.
As I scrolled through the messages, a painful realization dawned on me: this wasn't their first time.
Jane's voice broke the silence, her words tumbling out in a desperate rush.
"I never wanted you to find out like this," she said, her eyes pleading for understanding.
I shook my head, feeling the weight of betrayal settle heavily on my shoulders.
I sat down on the edge of our bed, my hands still gripping Jane's phone.
The bedroom felt smaller now, suffocating with the secrets that had been hidden here.
My wedding ring caught the dim light of the room, a painful reminder of the vows we had exchanged just a year ago.
I lowered the phone, remembering the first dance we had shared as husband and wife, the honeymoon we had spent together, and the life we had built.
Jane reached for my hand, but I pulled away.
Her face contorted in a mix of sadness and desperation as she promised to end things with David, to try couples therapy, to be better.
The rational part of my brain screamed at me to leave, to walk away from this toxic situation.
But another part of me—the part that still loved her—ached to believe her promises.
I removed my ring and placed it on the nightstand beside her phone.
I stood up and began pacing across the room, the crunch of broken glass beneath my feet echoing through the silence.
Jane watched me, her eyes filled with tears.
The scent of her shampoo, once a comforting familiarity, now made my stomach twist with nausea.
As I walked, I felt the weight of our relationship bearing down on me—the memories, the laughter, the moments we had shared.
How could she betray me like this?
I stopped in front of her and spoke in a voice that surprised even myself.
"Redemption," I said, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging within me.
Jane's eyes lit up with hope, and she leaned forward eagerly.
"Yes," she whispered, "I'll do anything for redemption."
I nodded slowly, reaching for my briefcase beside the door.
I pulled out a pen and a piece of paper, my hands steady as I began to write.
The words flowed from my pen onto the page, outlining the terms of our reconciliation.
Jane watched intently as I wrote, her mascara streaking down her cheeks.
When I finished, I sat down on the edge of our bed, my hand still trembling.
Jane hovered nearby, sniffling and wringing her hands together.
The list grew, each point a reminder of the boundaries that needed to be set:
1. Complete transparency with all devices.
2. Immediate resignation from her current job.
3. Marriage counseling twice a week.
4. A post-nuptial agreement protecting my assets in case of divorce.
5. A signed confession of her affair to be held by my lawyer, ready to be released if any further infidelity occurred.
As I wrote each term, my pen pressed harder against the paper, the words threatening to tear through the thin hotel stationery.
When I reached the final point, I paused, my hand hovering above the page.
The bedroom felt suffocating around me—the scent of Jane's perfume mingling with David's cologne made my stomach twist.
I set the list of reconciliation terms aside on the bed and turned to face Jane, who was still standing by the dresser, tears streaming down her cheeks.
The bedroom seemed to shrink further, the walls closing in on us.
My voice came out softer than I intended.
"Jane," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
She looked up at me, her eyes red and swollen.
She wrung her hands together, smearing mascara across her cheeks as she wiped away tears.
The wedding ring I had placed on the nightstand glinted in the dim light.
Jane opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated, her gaze darting toward the door as if planning an escape.
She shifted uncomfortably, her hand fiddling with the sash of her robe.
A folded paper slipped from her pocket and fell onto the carpet, lying beside her foot.
She lunged to pick it up, but I was closer.
I snatched it from the floor, my hands shaking as I unfolded the letter.
The words blurred on the page as I read, my eyes scanning over the familiar handwriting.
The letter was dated three months ago, and it was written by David.
He described their first encounter at a hotel, where Jane had come to meet a client for a business deal.
David had been at the hotel for a conference and had seen her alone in the lobby.
They struck up a conversation and exchanged numbers, meeting up for drinks a few nights later.
As I continued reading, my stomach twisted with nausea.
The words on the page painted a picture of deceit and betrayal—Jane's plans to leave me once she had secured a promotion at work, using the money in our joint account to rent an apartment for her and David.
But then I reached the final paragraph, and my knees buckled beneath me.
I stood in the middle of our bedroom, clutching the crumpled letter, my legs trembling beneath me.
Jane backed away, her eyes darting toward the window as if searching for an escape route.
The streetlight outside cast harsh shadows across her tear-streaked face.
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
I slammed the letter down on the dresser, the sound echoing through the room.
I took a step closer to Jane, my voice rising in anger.
"Did you really think you could keep this from me?"
I asked, my voice louder now.
Jane flinched at my tone, her eyes widening as she took another step backward.
The wall stopped her retreat, trapping her between the bedroom window and me.
Finally, she met my eyes, her voice coming out barely above a whisper. "Yes," she said, her voice shaking as she admitted the truth.
"I thought if I could just get everything in place, it wouldn't matter," she continued, her voice cracking.
I shook my head, disbelief mingling with anger. "So you were just going to disappear one day, leave me with nothing but a note?"
Jane's eyes filled with fresh tears, and she nodded slowly.
I stared at her tear-stained face, my hand moving of its own accord.
My fingers brushed against her cheek, tracing the curve of her face.
The feel of her skin beneath my fingertips was familiar, a reminder of the countless times I had touched her in the past.
But now, it felt different—like a distant memory that I couldn't quite grasp.
Jane leaned into my touch, her eyes closing as she let out a shaky breath.
But I noticed her gaze darting toward the nightstand, where her phone lay next to the wedding ring I had placed there.
It was a hollow gesture, and I knew it now.
The letter in my other hand crinkled as my grip tightened, the words blurring together in my vision.
My fingertips followed the trail of mascara left by her tears, remembering how I had once thought those tears meant something more.