Betrayal

I saw them with my own eyes.

Eight months pregnant, I stood in the doorway of my husband’s office and watched him kiss another woman across his desk. Her lipstick stained his face. Their clothes were undone. There was no mistaking what had happened.

The thermos slipped from my hands as tears streamed down my cheeks.

Eight months pregnant.

Twelve years of marriage.

Two children waiting for us at home.

And my entire life shattering in a single second.

Then a savage pain tore through my body.

Contractions. Premature labor.

But I ran, ignoring the pain and the desperate shouts of the man who had betrayed me.

Because some betrayals cannot be forgiven.

Some wounds never fully heal.

And after what I had witnessed, I knew one terrible truth:

There was nothing left to save.