I Followed My Husband to Expose His Affair, But I Wasn’t the Only One Watching

To protect my husband’s secrets, I sacrificed my dreams. However, I discovered that I wasn’t the only one spying on him as I chased after him to catch him cheating.

Kevin, my husband, had a particular taste in things.

The only way I could accomplish it.

To keep everything straight, I once created a small reminder list for myself.

HUBBY’s List 🧅 There should never be onions in any sauce.

🥩 Only medium-rare, thick-cut steak

🌹 The garden must have roses that bloom all year round.

👕 Perfectly pressed shirts with firm collars

🛏️ Hotel-fresh, snow-white bed linens

🧽 The kitchen is pristine, with no crumbs on the counters.

Every Sunday, the tea set gets polished.

🌿 Fresh, never dried herbs by the window

I was constantly afraid that I might forget anything. Any small detail that could let him down, like a crumpled napkin or a missing ingredient. As a result, I constantly produced little recordings.

Small commands Like bedtime stories for submissive wives, I played back at night. I occasionally listened to those tapes to remind myself that my husband still needed me.

And then I began to show up someplace on those lists as well. My feelings, my anxieties, my ideas.

Thus began the first recording specifically for me.

[6:12 a.m. on Monday] 487 voice recording:

for the first time in five years. I feel as though I’m fleeing from myself. Perhaps I am.

However, fifteen minutes prior to that…

I had been pressing another pillowcase at the ironing board since five in the morning.

My small library room, where I used to write articles on inspirational people, was overflowing with extra linens during my four years of marriage.

I also stopped reading the paper. I still recall Kevin being pleased with my selection.

“With your kind of hands? More than anywhere else, you are needed here.

And I was here, actually. in the house. Always.

[7:15 a.m. on Monday] 488 voice recording:

“Kevin departed for his job. gave me a cheek kiss. Avoid making eye contact. For supper, we ordered steak, grilled vegetables, and a lemon tart. Grocery shopping is required. Make a mental note to get fresh lilies.

I felt like something exploded inside of me immediately after the recording. I had had enough of being occupied by the mop and the oven. Not by my husband, either.

I took out my old sneakers rather than the meal recipes.

No cosmetics. Don’t use a hairbrush.

The roadway, the cold morning air, and me.

In order to feel anything, I planned to run around the block and then return to fold towels. However, I didn’t. I froze at the point where our peaceful lane empties into the main road.

God, please. Is it possible?

There was Kevin’s automobile parked. Engine dead, sitting there.

I took cover behind a tree. Like a fool.

What was it I anticipated seeing?

Kevin exited a few minutes later!(no laptop, no briefcase, nothing!) and slipped down the steps of the metro.

[7:38 a.m. on Monday] 489: Voice recording

“The Tube was used by Kevin. He always claimed to drive directly to work. A train is a lie, but why? “Where exactly is he heading?”

A few hours later, I found myself standing in my kitchen, gazing at the freshly ironed curtains and plates.

And I noticed.

It wasn’t my home. I posted that.

I am the unpaid housekeeper. The ghost who does the towel folding.

My husband, on the other hand, conceals secrets.

[8:03 a.m. on Monday] 490 voice recording:

“Go into disguise tomorrow. I found Dad’s old baseball cap, the large hoodie, and the cheap dark sunglasses from the previous year. It has to fit in. I must keep him from seeing me. Let’s see who he actually bids farewell with a kiss.

When I went outside the next morning, Kevin had already left.

I went across two blocks. It was there! The same location as yesterday for his car. Awaiting.

I huddled behind a dejected trash can that had the stench of cheap perfume and stale coffee. Kevin was scrolling through his phone while seated in the driver’s seat. He grinned.

That smile, my goodness!

[At 6:57 a.m. on Tuesday] 492 voice recording:

“He’s holding out. He smiles at his phone. Who gives him that kind of smile?

After five minutes, he strolled to the Tube as if it were his usual path.

I waited. Then I went along with it.

Two vehicles are in the rear. Enough to observe.

I noticed her university backpack on the platform. She leaned close to him.

My heart broke like a piece of glass.

[At 7:18 a.m. on Tuesday] 493: Voice recording

I climbed into the following vehicle. I kept my head down.

Kevin touched her knee with his hand. She laughed.

I felt like throwing up. I forced myself to concentrate.

Little To-Do List: ✅ Don’t cry.

✅ Keep your phone quiet and record any conversations.

Five stations were where they got off. I hid behind a cane-wielding elderly man.

However, I wasn’t the only one who followed. He was there. A tall man with a tan jacket and weary eyes. He didn’t have his eyes on Kevin. He had his sights set on her.

He turned when she did.

His jaw tightened as she laughed.

It is 7:32 a.m. on Tuesday. 494: Voice recording

“She is being watched by the stranger. “Who is he?”

They found themselves in a budget café close to the station.

I was on the other side of the street.

feigned to browse through my phone.

took a picture, hazy but evidence.

At the adjacent table sat a tall man.

feigning to read an upside-down newspaper.

We looked at each other. He raised an eyebrow: You too?

“Wife,” I mouthed.

“Father,” he mouthed.

It is 7:42 a.m. on Tuesday. 495 voice recording:

“Her dad. Here to find out who is squandering her future. I’m come to find out who is squandering mine.

In four minutes, I arrived. Half-hidden by a fake potted palm, we crept behind a large marble column close to the café counter. It was flawless. Nobody was able to see us.

Finally, we were able to say what no one else wanted to hear. We didn’t exchange glances. Only at them.

She is twenty-two years old. He’s…

“Forty.”

The man gave his neck a rub. “My name is Mark.”

“Rachel.”

“Hello Rachel, nice to meet you. I suppose.

At that moment, he looked down at the small black recorder that was visible through my sleeve. He narrowed his gaze slightly.

“Why are you recording this at all?”

I tightened my jaw. “For the separation. I want a recording of his pledges. Faces, dates, and lies. Everything.

I gave him a look.

“How about you?”

His gaze returned to his daughter, who was laughing in her boyfriend’s lap.

“Evidence that she is not a naive princess. Her mom believes I’m domineering. Let her see for whom our daughter actually skips schools. Does she desire her independence? She is able to cover her own rent.

A laugh escaped both of us before it could reach our mouths.

The Plan of Action (written on a napkin): 📀 Every falsehood is ammunition for the court, so keep recording.

📸 Take photos with genuine faces, genuine moments, and no justifications.

☕ Keep all of their regrettable promises.

I hit my bag with my phone. hit the record.

[At 7:55 a.m. on Tuesday] 496 voice recording:

“I’ll leave her for you,” said Kevin. Soon. All I want is you.

“Daddy doesn’t get it,” she said. I desire you. Mom is on a business trip, so come over tomorrow night. You’ll adore her large, opulent home reserved for us. “On my birthday.”

I looked through the glass to the back. My phone was then unlocked. I touched the camera with my finger. No sound of the shutter. A single snapshot shows Kevin and his young princess sharing a kiss while her spoon still hanging from her fingers.

I sensed that Mark was observing me.

“Are you planning?”

“That is insufficient. They’ll come up with new lies. They are always liked by others. Every time they even consider betraying someone again, you want to remind them of this.

His statement lingered, oddly accurate.

“Perhaps I do have a plan.” I turned to face Mark. “But I’ll need your assistance to play it out.”

Mark’s lips curled slightly. “Give me instructions.”

“We need to meet your ex-wife.”

Wednesday evening, 6:58 p.m. 498 voice recording:

“This is my first time here. I ought to feel encroached. However, I don’t. Perhaps this is where my life will return to normal.

At the gate, Mark greeted me. Under the cozy porch light, he guided me up the stone walk. She was waiting inside. Laura. His former spouse. Her gaze shifted from me to Mark. Perplexed, then wary, then injured.

“You came here with his wife? Do you two intend to blame me for this?

I took a step forward. “No. I simply wanted to let you know what your daughter has been up to.

Laura laughed. She is a child who is nineteen years old. She would never.

The picture I had snapped through the café glass was thrust forward by Mark. I played a voice recording after that.

“Mom is on a business trip, so come over tomorrow night.”

Laura covered her mouth with her palm. Next week, I was supposed to give her the remaining funds for education. as a surprise on a birthday. And she was planning to flee with him?

Then she became enraged and turned against me.

“This is your spouse! How could you have let him to?

My throat constricted. “I was… nobody.” His maid. His chef. His linens were white as snow. That’s all.

Laura gazed at me. Then we discipline both of them. He made fun of more people than just you.

The large guest room was where we sat. Mark switched off the lights. There was silence in the house. I gripped my phone firmly. Laura’s perfume next to me had a pricey, angry scent.

It is Wednesday at 7:48 p.m. 499 voice recording:

“I’m standing in the dark. They anticipate romance when they get home. We’ve got something better ready.”

Then there was a rattling of keys. A low chuckle. Silence. Words spoken like silk. They shuffled into the living room, and we heard it. The bags fell. The shoes came off.

Mark turned on the lamp at that moment. One strong yellow light, like a spotlight in a prison. Laura was the first to get up. The room was split in two by her voice.

“Happy birthday, my love. I hope you feel proud.

The girl stopped. It appeared as though Kevin had been scorched as his arm fell from her shoulder so quickly.

“Mom…”

Don’t. Not a word.

Kevin opened his mouth, but the words came out ineffectively.

Laura chuckled. “You intended to play your dirty game at my house? To flee with my money? The day pigs fly, I’ll give you a single cent.

I also got up. “Kevin, I have all of your lovely promises. recorded. And your attorney would go into great detail about our prenuptial agreement, which you assumed I would never read.

Kevin’s face became white.

“You wouldn’t…”

Yes, I would. You receive nothing if you commit adultery. And that penalty clause worth ten thousand dollars? You can send me checks every month to pay it. from your valuable savings.

Laura looked at her daughter.

“And you. No funds for college. No rent. No vehicle. If you truly love your “grown-up boyfriend,” go live with him. When he’s broke, see how long he keeps you.

I turned to face Mark. He was not smiling. From father to mother to wife, he only nodded once.

At last, we departed from the house. I wasn’t ready to return home just yet. Not with my ex-boyfriend there, packing garments into luggage that he had once told me to iron.

Mark then extended an offer of coffee. Just ten minutes of not feeling like a ghost, along with strong, inexpensive coffee in a paper cup.

It is Wednesday at 7:59 p.m. 500 voice recordings:

It turns out that revenge tastes better than lemon tart. Make a mental note to choose a spouse who shares your distaste for falsehoods if you ever need one.

To be continued…