The day I discovered my husband’s betrayal was like a cold wave crashing over the shore.

I remember standing in the middle of our living room,

holding my phone and feeling the world shift beneath my feet

. There it was, undeniable evidence from the security cameras

I had discreetly installed at our lake house.

I watched in disbelief as my husband, Luke,

paraded around our sanctuary with his female coworker,

Sarah, under the pretense of “business trips.”

My heart didn’t break—it hardened. I didn’t cry. I planned.

The next week, Luke returned home,

pretending to be tired from a conference he never attended.

He wore the same charming smile he always did,

the one that used to make my heart flutter but now only fueled my resolve

. I kept my face neutral, a mask perfected over the years,

and welcomed him with open arms, as I always did.

“How was the conference?”

I asked, my voice steady, betraying no hint of the turmoil inside.