I was burning with fever, barely able to lift my head. My one-year-old daughter, Lily, sat beside me, playing with a stuffed rabbit, unaware of my suffering. I called my husband, Ryan, begging him to come home and help me care for our child. He promised to leave work soon, but as the hours passed, I realized he was lying.
My messages to him went unanswered, and I was too weak to be angry. I decided to reach out to his coworker, Mike, and the truth left me shaken. Ryan was still at work, and he had no intention of leaving. I felt a cold rush of fear, knowing I was alone and helpless.
I called Mrs. Thompson, our neighbor, and she came to my aid. She took care of me and Lily, and soon I found myself in the hospital, fighting a severe kidney infection. The doctor told me I was close to septic shock, and another few hours might have changed the outcome.
When Ryan finally showed up, he seemed nonchalant, like he had just run some errands. I was too weak to confront him, but I knew something was wrong. As I lay in the hospital bed, I realized I didn’t love him anymore. The lies, the neglect, and the betrayal had taken its toll.
After discharge, Ryan acted like nothing was wrong, but I saw the truth. I started looking for apartments, knowing I had to leave him. One night, I took his phone and discovered his secret conversations with other women, his Tinder profile, and his lies about work. The final blow was the absence of any record of him requesting time off to care for me.
In that moment, I knew I was done. I made an appointment with a divorce lawyer and started planning my escape. I pretended everything was normal, but inside, I was preparing to take control of my life. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but I was determined to move on and leave the lies and betrayal behind.
