My Husband Claimed My Miscarriage ‘Ruined His Birthday’ – He Didn’t Realize How Soon He’d Regret It

It hurt to see that I had married a man who valued his birthday party more than my life.

More than our baby’s life. More than anything real or meaningful.

And that realization, as painful as the miscarriage itself, was what finally opened my eyes to who he really was.

But discovering his priorities was only the beginning.

The real betrayal came three days later when I picked up his phone to check the time and saw a message notification flash across the screen.

“Last night was amazing. When can I see you again?

😘”

My hands went numb. I unlocked his phone and found hundreds of messages.

All those messages were to someone named Sophie, a 22-year-old girl from his gym. Flirty texts.

Late-night conversations. Photos I couldn’t bear to look at for more than a second.

And then I found the messages from his birthday.

While I’d been calling him and begging him to come home, he’d been texting her.

“Can’t wait to see you tonight.”

“Boss is clueless, I’m definitely ‘working late’ 😉.”

“This is the best birthday ever.”

He hadn’t been stuck in traffic. He hadn’t been at the office.

He’d been with her, planning to spend his entire birthday with her, and my miscarriage had simply been an annoying interruption to his affair.

I couldn’t believe it.

I sat on our bathroom floor, reading those messages over and over until the words blurred together.

The anger, the grief, and the absolute betrayal of it all crashed over me in waves that left me gasping for air. But underneath all that pain, something cold, clear, and certain started growing. I knew exactly what I had to do next.

I took screenshots of all the messages and waited.

Every single day, I observed him lying to my face like it was no big deal. I could’ve confronted him right away if I wanted, but I decided to wait. I decided to keep my strength for when I could really use it.

It took me a full week before I finally confronted him.

I waited until he came home from “work” one evening, still acting like nothing was wrong. Like he hadn’t prioritized that woman over his wife and his unborn baby.

“Get out,” I said simply, standing in our living room with my arms crossed.

“What are you talking about?” He actually looked confused, like he couldn’t imagine why I’d be upset.

“I know about Sophie. I know where you really were on your birthday.

I know everything, Matt. So get your things and get out of my house.”

The color drained from his face. He tried to argue and explain, but I didn’t want to hear another word from his mouth.

I told him if he wasn’t gone in an hour, I’d call my lawyer and then call Sophie’s boyfriend (yes, I’d found out she had one too) and let him know exactly what his girlfriend had been up to.

He left that night with two suitcases and his tail between his legs.Continue reading…

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