I discovered my husband’s affair on an ordinary Thursday night, when everything was supposed to be normal. When I confronted him, he didn’t deny it—he just waited to see if I would fall apart.
I went to my parents, ready to leave. My mother brushed it off, saying all men cheat and I shouldn’t ruin my son’s life. My father said nothing, and feeling alone, I stayed.
The days grew heavy. I moved into the guest room and kept up appearances for my son, even as the marriage became unbearable.
Then one afternoon, my son didn’t come out of school. Panicked, I was about to call the police when my father called instead. He told me my son was safe and gave me an address.
There, I found him holding my son’s hand outside a small, welcoming apartment. “This is your new life,” he told me. “You won’t stay with a man who betrayed you. You deserve better.”
With his support, I filed for divorce. Today, my son and I live in that apartment—peaceful, safe, and full of light. My father didn’t just save me; he reminded me I was worth saving.
