Scrolling through Facebook, I was just looking for a picture from our anniversary party last month—the one where Lily had frosting all over her face. But as I scrolled, something else caught my eye. A woman named Ella had liked and commented on nearly every single one of my husband’s posts. Her name appeared again and again, and her comments felt… too familiar. “Looking good as always!” she had written under a photo of Sam and me, all dressed up for a fancy dinner two months ago. But the comment

Christmas morning arrived with a sharp chill in the air. The sky was heavy with gray clouds, casting a somber light through the small window of our living room. Inside, the artificial Christmas tree stood bravely in the corner, its sparse branches decorated with mismatched ornaments and a single string of flickering lights. It was old, second-hand, and nothing like the grand, glittering trees I once dreamed of having for my daughters. But it was ours. My five-year-old triplets—Anna, Bella, and Cara—sat cross-legged on the worn carpet, their tiny hands

It all started with a strange conversation over dinner, something so unexpected that I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. But it was the phone call that came days later that completely shattered everything I thought I knew about my husband. My husband, Jake, and I always prided ourselves on being modern and fair. We split everything equally—rent, utilities, groceries. It was a system that worked for us. Or so I thought. Two weeks ago, as we sat at our wobbly kitchen table, eating pasta and sipping wine like