Are you serious? We’ve been married ten years! What mistress? You’re more than enough for me!

**Diary Entry**

I couldnt shake the feelingno matter how hard I tried. Ten years of marriage, and yet, the doubt gnawed at me like an unrelenting itch. Was David cheating? Every instinct screamed that something was off. One evening, I finally confronted him.

*”Are you serious? Weve been married a decade! Why on earth would I need someone else? Youre all I want!”*

His words sounded sincere, his smile unbroken. No falter in his voice, no guilt in his eyes. So why couldnt I believe him?

Ive never been one to leave things to fate. If there was truth to uncover, Id find it. After scouring the internet for advice, I decided to check his phone. Nothing suspiciousjust harmless chatter with a couple of old schoolmates. No passwords, no hidden folders. An open book, or so he claimed.

Still, every time he came home late, my stomach twisted. My best mate, Emily, insisted I was imagining things.

*”Youre being paranoid! David adores youhed never stray!”*

But my gut said otherwise. Sharing him was never an option.

One evening, I followed him to work, convinced he was meeting someone. He was furious when he saw me*”Youre embarrassing me in front of my colleagues!”* I apologised, and he forgave quickly, but the unease lingered.

By all appearances, our life was perfect. A lovely home in Surrey, two growing children. Yet, I couldnt stop digging.

Then, the tipping point.

After our youngest started Year 1, I decided to learn to drive. Passed my test in three months. David was so proud, he bought me a little Miniperfect for my size.

Or so I thought.

Turns out, he just didnt trust me behind the wheel of his Audi. *”You need more experience,”* hed say.

One freezing Sunday, I woke early to bake a chicken and aubergine piea family favourite. Out of flour, I braved the cold. My Mini wouldnt start, so I quietly took his keys instead. Just a quick tripwhat harm could it do?

While defrosting the windscreen, I rifled through the glovebox for tissues. Something clattered to the floora phone. Not his.

My stomach dropped.

No password. The first message I saw was from a *Sophie:*

*”My love, I miss you! Come over soonI cant wait!”*

I scrolled further. Years of messages. Turns out, David didnt work latehe stopped at Sophies *every evening* before coming home. The words he wrote her made my blood boil.

Photos showed a woman in her forties. What did she have that I didnt?

Just as I stepped out, I spotted David leaving the houseprobably sneaking off to text her. He saw me in his car and stormed over.

*”Who said you could take it?”*

Rage took over. I slammed into reverse, crashing into the fence behind me. The impact oddly satisfying.

I hurled his keys into a snowdrift.

*”Go to her, then! Lets see how much she wants you without your house or car!”*

The boys were awake by the time I got inside. Minutes later, David knockedI locked him out.

*”Forget this address! Go to your precious Sophie!”*

Off he went in his slippers and dressing gown.

Turns out, Sophie had another man waiting. Weekends were never part of their arrangement.

David ended up at his mums. Margaret took him in, fed him, soothed his wounded ego.

*”Dont worry, love. Youre only thirty-fiveyoull find someone better!”*

He stayed there, convinced hed start fresh. Until the child support papers arrived.

Funny how freedom loses its shine when reality bites.

At least Margaret didnt abandon him. Small mercies.