Three years into our marriage, I caught my husband cheating. The lady he was cheating with was way too young for his age and way below his league, but my husband didn’t mind going that low. He made promises to this girl as if he couldn’t live without her. I read their messages and cringed.

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She didn’t live far from us. I knew her name and knew her story. I was even ashamed to let the world know my husband was dating such a girl. I wanted to play it cool. Warn my husband off that affair and try to build what was left. That aside, I loved him. I loved the life we had built together in three years, and I wasn’t ready to watch it collapse because another woman had found her way into our marriage.

So, the morning after I read the messages, I confronted him with a quiet demeanor. I didn’t want him to sense my rage. I wanted him to see what he had done for what it was so we could talk about it calmly and see the way forward. I said, “This girl is too young. What do you want the world to say about you? How do you want those who respect you to deal with this?”

I expected remorse. I expected apologies or something that would show me our marriage still meant something to him. Instead, his first question was, “Why did you go through my phone? What were you looking for?”

I was stunned. “You cheated. That’s what we have to talk about,” I said, this time no longer calmly.

He responded, “I cheated because I no longer want this marriage. I wanted a divorce the day we said ‘I do.’ I regret this marriage and I want out. Maybe this is the opportunity for both of us to face the truth.”

The silence that followed those words was louder than any argument we had ever had. I was the one who had been betrayed and needed an apology, but my husband made himself the victim. I was scared to lose my marriage and thought I had somehow caused all this.

Divorce is never just between two people. I thought of the stress of families getting involved, friends asking questions, and the opinions of society. I wasn’t ready to become another woman whose marriage had failed after only three years, so I pleaded with him.

For several weeks, I pleaded with him like I had no pride. I begged and even brought in the devil, asking him not to allow the devil to destroy our marriage. It took us months to reconcile and regroup, but finally, we found ourselves smiling again, laughing together, and allowing healing to move through the cracks of our marriage.

We had a son. He played with him often and never left me to raise him alone, but those things didn’t wipe away the fears I had about my marriage. The months ahead were very tough. When he came home late from work, I became jittery. When I called and he didn’t pick up, my heart beat abnormally. When he had a call and spoke softly on the phone, I asked myself, “Who is he talking to that he doesn’t want me to hear?”

It was an emotional roller coaster for me, but I survived it somehow until three years later, when someone I knew from the community whispered to me, “Your husband has sent Diana out of town because she’s pregnant for him. They are trying to hide it because he’s using the family money.”

Diana was the same lady I caught him cheating with three years earlier. The same cheating that nearly brought our marriage to an end. I didn’t want to believe the informant, so I started doing my own investigation. I asked some people questions, and those people told my husband that I was asking around. Again, my husband approached me angrily, asking me what I was looking for from those people.

“I know Diana is pregnant,” I said. “And you’re the one responsible. Do you think I will never know? Do you think…”

He cut in before I could complete my statement. “You know, and so what? Is it my fault that you won’t do the right thing in this marriage? After all, I wanted a divorce and you forced me to stay. You should know I didn’t want this marriage in the first place.”

He blamed me. According to him, everything that had happened was somehow my fault because I didn’t allow the marriage to end.

Something changed inside me that day. For the first time in years, I stopped asking what I had done wrong. I stopped carrying responsibility for choices that were never mine. I told him, “Great. You want a divorce, right? You’ll get it.”

Three years ago, when he cheated, we were in the process of building the house we are living in now. I had bought the land before we got married, but we put our money together to build this house we both lived in. We were not done with the house when we decided we needed a car to help us move around. I took a loan from the office, and he also did the same, and we bought a car. A car I contributed to buying but have never even held the steering wheel of.

When he realized I wasn’t as calm as I had been the first time, he decided to reason with me. I didn’t respond to his bullying with fear, so he came to me asking us to talk about it. He said he was sorry. He said everything that happened was his fault, but I should give him another chance to genuinely make things right.

I answered, “You don’t get a third chance to hurt me. You wanted a divorce, and now I also want a divorce. Let’s go through with it.”

He knows exactly what this divorce means. The house he calls home will no longer be his. The car he drives will no longer be available to him. The comfortable life he took for granted is about to disappear. He knows the consequences, and he knows life after this divorce will be far more difficult, so he pleaded.

Thank God for the kind of parents I have. When the first incident happened, I didn’t say anything to them because I knew I could handle it, and I thought I did. When I finally went to them and narrated the story from the beginning, they asked me to come home. I said, “No. He has to leave the house, not me. Let’s return his drink to his family first, and then we’ll take it from there.”

Traditionally, we are no longer married. We are currently in court fighting it out. He’s not cooperating with the process. I don’t know where he’s getting his legal advice from, but I heard he said that if he doesn’t cooperate, the divorce won’t be granted. He’s still asking me to reconsider, telling me this remorse is genuine.

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

We are currently living apart. I live in the house we built with our son, and he’s the one seeking to come back home, but I’m not going to be the fool again. If there’s one lesson this marriage has taught me, it’s this: forgiveness is a gift, not permission. When someone mistakes your mercy for weakness, they shouldn’t be surprised when the kindness they took for granted eventually runs out.

I cried for this marriage to survive. I was on my knees when I wasn’t the one who had done wrong. Now, I’m the one walking away—not as the woman he divorced, but as the woman who finally refused to abandon herself.

—Dorothy

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