My husband, Wyatt, and I were fighting constantly. It felt like every day we were at each other’s throats. Most of it was about money—we were broke, and I couldn’t figure out where all our money was going. The other part? He was always coming home late. Too late. And I started to wonder what he was really doing.
One evening, I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“We can’t keep going like this, Wyatt!” I snapped, standing in front of him with my arms crossed. “I thought you made more money than this! Where is all of it going every month?”
Wyatt looked tired—worn down. He ran a hand over his face and let out a long sigh.
“I don’t know what to tell you,” he said softly, avoiding my eyes. “Everything’s just more expensive now. I’m doing my best. I really am.”
I sighed too. I didn’t want to yell. I didn’t want to fight. But something felt off. “I’m sorry,” I told him, my voice a little softer. “I know you’re trying. I just don’t understand. We used to make it through the month okay. Now we can’t even save fifty bucks.”
Deep down, I felt something wasn’t right. Yes, life had gotten tougher, and I wasn’t working anymore because of my health. Stress and anxiety made my condition worse, so I had to quit my part-time job. Wyatt was the only one working now. But still… we hadn’t changed how we spent money. We should’ve had something left over.
I started to suspect that Wyatt was hiding something.
And maybe it was worse than I imagined.
We had fought before—bad fights. One of the worst was about his brother, Dawson, and Dawson’s wife, Faye. They were the kind of family you didn’t want around. Selfish. Cold. When Wyatt and I were first married, we were struggling and couldn’t pay rent. I begged Faye for help just for one night.
“I’m sorry, but that’s not my problem,” she had said coldly.
I remember crying after that conversation. Thank God, one of my friends helped us out with enough money to rent a tiny room. Wyatt and I worked like crazy to pay them back. We fought tooth and nail to climb back up from that pit.
Not long after, we went to a family gathering. I talked to Wyatt’s aunt about my health and how I might have to quit working. Faye rolled her eyes at me. She didn’t say anything then, but her expression said it all.
Later that night, the conversation turned to kids. I spoke up, sharing my dream of becoming a mom. I had always wanted to raise a family. But then Faye opened her mouth.
“You? A mother?” she laughed loudly. “With your issues? The way you two handle money? Don’t even try.”
Then she got even nastier.
“Because no one here is going to bail you out when you can’t pay rent again—with a baby in your arms!” she scoffed. “Also… who wants to deal with a mentally unstable mother?”
The room went dead silent. I looked at Wyatt, expecting him to speak up and defend me. He didn’t. We left not long after. That night, we had one of our worst fights ever. I nearly walked out for good. But we made up and decided to cut Dawson and Faye out of our lives.
But now, something was definitely happening behind my back. Something I couldn’t explain. And something I might never be able to forgive.
One night, I did something I never thought I’d do.
I followed my husband.
Yes, I waited outside his office building like a spy. He told me he had to stay late, but I saw him leave at 5 p.m. sharp. I followed his car through the streets, my heart pounding the entire time. A million thoughts flew through my head.
Where is he going? Is he seeing someone else? Am I about to catch him cheating?
Finally, he pulled into a familiar driveway.
Dawson’s house.
My stomach dropped. Why is he here? We both agreed to avoid them. And then I saw it. Faye opened the door and smiled when she saw him. She stepped out and hugged him. My jaw dropped.
Was this really happening?
I didn’t think twice. I pulled up, jumped out of my car, slammed the door shut, and stormed toward the house. I felt like a volcano ready to explode. This time, I would not forgive Wyatt.
But what I saw inside stopped me in my tracks.
Wyatt was standing in the living room… holding a baby. And Faye was holding another one.
“What is going on here?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Are you coming here every night? Are those babies… yours, Wyatt?”
My heart was racing. I thought I’d scream, cry, throw something. But seeing those babies in their arms left me frozen.
Wyatt’s eyes widened. “Jenna, what? No! Of course not! These are Dawson and Faye’s babies!”
I blinked. “But… we haven’t talked to them in forever. Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
He stepped closer. “I haven’t seen them in a long time… until a few months ago. I was going to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”
Before he could continue, Faye walked over. Her face looked… different. Not smug, not hateful. Honest.
“I think I should explain,” she said quietly. “I had the babies a little while ago. Twins. Wyatt’s been helping. With money. With time. Everything.”
I stared at her. “Money? Why? You and Dawson always looked like you were doing just fine.”
Faye bit her lip, and her eyes filled with tears.
“We were. Or I thought we were. And… I was awful to you. I know that. I looked down on you. Said horrible things. I’m so sorry, Jenna. Truly.”
She took a deep breath.
“The truth is… Dawson got caught doing something illegal at work. Some shady business. His secretary exposed him. He’s in jail now.”
I gasped. “Oh my God…”
“Yeah,” Faye nodded slowly. “And that’s not even the end. All of our accounts were frozen. Everything we had—gone. The only reason I still have this house is because it’s in my mom’s name.”
I sat down, feeling dizzy.
They gave me more details. It was worse than I imagined. Faye had been seven months pregnant when everything collapsed. Dawson’s crimes, the financial ruin, the betrayal—he had been cheating on her too.
And through all of it… Wyatt had stepped in. He had been quietly supporting her and the twins. Every spare dollar, every late night—he had been helping behind the scenes.
I felt like the ground had shifted under my feet.
All this time, I’d been angry at Wyatt. Blaming him. Accusing him. And he had been feeding two babies without ever asking for praise or understanding.
I didn’t know what to say. My heart felt torn in a thousand directions.
Could I forgive Wyatt for keeping it all secret? Could I forgive Faye for everything she said and did in the past?
Or… should I take the high road and see this for what it really was—a story of pain, mistakes, and quiet sacrifice?
What would you do?
