My Husband Left for a Work Trip with a Female Colleague—Then He Called Me in Tears

My Husband Went on a Work Trip with His Female Colleague—Hours Later, He Called Me in Tears

More than her trust is broken when Sienna finds out that her husband has betrayed her when he departs on a business trip with his younger coworker.

However, everything changes when someone makes a last-ditch call during a snowstorm. This is a tale of broken families, the silent burden of allegiance, and the true meaning of homecoming.

The sound of Cameron’s voice that evening is one I doubt I’ll ever forget. It was trembling, torn with terror and, worse, chilly.

I should begin at the beginning, though, before I tell you about that phone call.

I’m a 35-year-old stay-at-home mother named Sienna. Cameron, my husband, has spent the last ten years moving up the corporate ladder and currently runs a mid-sized IT company. I had Benjamin, our 15-year-old son, while I was a college student.

Although it was chaotic, every moment of suffering, every tear shed, and every sacrifice we had made were worthwhile. He’s intelligent, sensitive, and too perceptive for his own good.

And Lucy comes next.

Cameron’s helper is named Lucy. She is a polished, astute, and driven 27-year-old. That’s exactly what an assistant should be, isn’t it? Furthermore, she is by his side no matter what.

I made an effort to act maturely when they began working closely together. She was merely a coworker. An ambitious young lady attempting to establish herself in the world.

Yes, I did feel a little envious of her. Not in the way you might expect, though. Initially, it was due to her employment. She played a part outside the home. She was capable of… In contrast, I felt trapped. Nevertheless, she did her job well.

However, things began to accumulate over time.

Compared to me, my spouse spent more time with her. late gatherings. “Quick drinks” following my job. meetings that they “had” to go to together.

I was therefore moved when Cameron casually said that he and Lucy would be traveling on a four-day business vacation when he returned home one evening. My stomach began to churn gradually.

He appeared anxious. As if he had anticipated my question before I had even spoken.

I inquired, “Is Lucy going too?”

He said, “Yeah, she is,” but he paused. “But, Sienna, it’s strictly professional. We’ll be attending the same presentations at the same hotel. Everything is planned.

“I understand it’s your job,” I said, nodding. And I agree with that. But Cameron, I want to be clear. The instant I discover that you have concealed something from me, I will no longer have faith in you. “Do you get it?”

I was chopping chicken for our homemade pizzas at the kitchen counter when I turned back.

“I understand,” expressed my hubby.

I gave him another look. Despite his apparent desire to dispute, he simply nodded.

Cameron’s bag was unzipped on the bed a few nights later when I was folding clothes. From the side pocket, a folded piece of paper was seen.

A hotel reservation was made. Two names. Just one room. A duplicate.

Not even distinct beds.

It took me a while to cry. I looked at it for a while. The untruth was the source of the anguish, not merely the room. The leaving out. The way he pretended everything was clean while staring me in the eye. That everything was all right.

“I’m a husband and father before I’m anything else, Sienna,” he had claimed in an attempt to soothe me.

I shut myself in the restroom. As the water ran, I let the tears to fall slowly and forcefully. I wasn’t noisy. I wasn’t upset. I was worn out.

A little later, Benjamin knocked with his math book in hand. He glanced at the running shower. As I sat on the closed toilet lid, he glanced at me.

He said, “I… it’s okay,”

“What’s wrong, honey?” I inquired. “Tell me. I’m about to leave.”

The words “Help with my math, Mom,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. “Let’s carry that out. But I need you to pack a suitcase once we’ve finished your assignments. Tomorrow, we’re heading to Grandma’s.

He didn’t dispute. He merely gave a nod.

Cameron and Lucy left that evening. The drive to the airport takes five hours.

“Sienna, don’t you want to make us a flask of hot chocolate?” After checking his briefcase for everything, Cameron asked.

“Sure,” I said obligingly. “Why not? Is there anything else?

“Oh, are there any of those baked chocolate chip cookies in your possession? The other day, Cameron brought some in. They were very tasty.

I nearly rolled my eyes to the back of my head.

“Sure.”

The hot chocolate was created by me. I packaged the cookies. I saw the headlights glide down our snowy street, waved them away, and heard the engine start.

I listened to the sound fade while I stood in the living room with my back to the wall.

I then got to work packing.

My phone rang two hours later. Cameron was the one.

“Sienna,” he exclaimed. “Thank God!”

“Cameron? “What’s wrong?” I inquired. But I wanted to know why he had called me in the first place. After all, he was with her.

He murmured, “We’re stuck, babe,” in a weak voice. “The vehicle stalled. I have no idea what’s wrong. Something’s in the gas tank, I believe. We’re just over the state line on Route 11. The signal is hardly working, and there is snow all over. It’s been an hour since I tried to dial 911. I was unable to contact anyone.

What on earth?

Cameron’s voice then broke.

“Baby,” he said in a whisper. “I simply wanted to bid you farewell. Just in case this is it. Here, it’s frigid.

Before the call even ended, I was holding my car keys.

It was “Benjamin!” I called. “Baby, gather as many blankets as you can. We must depart immediately.

As I picked up jackets and throws from the couch, I put 911 on speaker. I provided them with every detail Cameron had provided.

“Route 11.” Help them, please,” I pleaded over the phone.

“What’s happening, Mom?” Ben enquired.

I said, “We’re going to Dad,” “He is stranded on the highway. in the snow. It’s freezing, too.

Benjamin was silent for some while. Then he let out a long sigh when we crossed the second mile sign.

“I didn’t want him to go,” my son muttered down.

“What do you mean?” I looked over and asked.

“Mom, I heard you weep. You believed the sounds were muffled by the shower. They didn’t. Furthermore, I didn’t actually require assistance with my schoolwork. I also noticed the reservations.

My chest constricted. I had no idea Ben had heard or seen anything.

He uttered the words, “I poured water into the gas tank,” just above a whisper. “I researched it on the internet. I simply didn’t want to part from him. I also didn’t want you to break up with him.”

I remained silent for a while. The terms were unfamiliar to me.

He turned to face me. “I didn’t want you to get divorced,” he said.

I blinked vigorously. My knuckles turned white as my fingers clenched around the steering wheel.

“Ben…” I said, my voice breaking. “Do you understand how dangerous that could have been?”

He gave a faint nod. Each silent cry that trickled down his cheeks carved a deeper scar in my heart.

“I didn’t mean for it to get that bad,” he muttered to himself. “I simply… Maybe we’d be alright again if he stayed, I reasoned. like we were previously. You used to laugh more. He used to join us for supper without looking at his phone. Did we not feel content?

Something sharp was lodged in my throat. I was at a loss for words. His words struck too near to the truth, not because I didn’t care.

“I considered breaking the car,” he added. “Then maybe I could fix something else.”

I put one hand on his knee and reached over. He was really young. He was so determined to retain anything intact that he was unaware of the potential harm. Or perhaps he did, and he still believed the risk was worthwhile.

His words, “I love him too,” “But I love you more.”

Outside the glass, the snow whipped viciously and softly sideways. With my mind racing and my chest hurting from everything we had all been avoiding, I continued to drive.

Half an hour later, we located them. Hazard lights were dull and flickering like a weak pulse as the automobile sat sideways in a skid. Inside, frost clung to the panes.

As our headlights passed over them, Cameron looked up. His strained, pale face blinked incredulously. Stumbling toward us on stiff knees, he opened the door and tugged Lucy’s coat tighter around her.

“Sienna,” he inhaled deeply. “I was unsure about what to do. The signal.

“Not right now. You’re freezing. I raised a hand and said, “Get in.”

I didn’t sound angry. Only urgency.

Lucy was assisted by him into the rear seat. She avoided looking at me. Quiet and with a pale face, Benjamin handed them the blankets from the backseat. There was silence in the car as I re-entered the road.

We would never be the same, though.

The floor creaked beneath Cameron’s feet as if to warn him, and he followed me into the kitchen while I made tea at the house.

“Ben told me,” was all he said. “I refused to let her use the room. It was less expensive that way, so I made the reservation. Sienna, I promise. I intended to inform you.

I responded, “But you didn’t,” without looking back.

“I got scared.”

“Of what, Cameron?” Finally turning to face him, I asked. “That I’d leave?”

His eyes glinted in the dim kitchen light as he swallowed hard.

“I knew you had already done it. It appears that you left this marriage.

“You checked out first.”

At that he winced. Excellent. Allow it to hurt.

“Cam, do you even realize how far you’ve come? You lie by omission and look me in the eye as if it doesn’t matter, then you expect me to be alright since you said you will inform me “eventually.”

As the kettle boiled, I laughed brittlely.

“Eventually, Cameron, it doesn’t foster trust. It shatters.

He combed his hair with his hand.

“Sienna, I didn’t realize it was this serious. I believed that we were only a phase.

“A phase?” I blinked. “Believing that our family was coming to an end, Benjamin damaged your car. It’s not a phase. That’s a child attempting to preserve what you keep ignoring.”

Benjamin entered the kitchen at that moment, his shoulders slumped and his gaze downcast.

Softly, “I told Dad what I did,” he murmured. “He knows.”

He whispered, “I didn’t know it had gotten this bad,” “That our son felt like he had to break my car to keep me home.”

He picked at the dried chickpeas I had been cleaning earlier while he sat glumly at the table and rubbed his eyes.

He confessed, “I got the check engine light two days ago,” “I assumed it was simply terrible fuel. I choose to disregard it.

“You’ve been ignoring a lot, lately, haven’t you?” I folded my arms.

A long pause ensued.

He uttered the words, “I’m done chasing it,” quietly. “The advancement. the strain. The picture. Although Lucy continues to climb, I no longer desire that way of life. If it means losing everything that is real, then no.

I examined him. I really stared at the man seated in front of me—not the one I had been imagining, but the one who had at last ceased to move.

“You’d give that up?” Quietly, I asked.

He declared, “I’ll find another way forward,” “One that doesn’t leave my family behind.”

Three months have passed since then.

Two weeks later, Cameron quit the company. No big exit. No big reveal. All he did was quietly resign and make a vow to himself, Ben, and me that he would no longer define success by how far he might climb.

He accepted a menial position with a more manageable title and a shorter commute. Less prestige, less money. But more home-cooked meals. More mornings spent drinking coffee next to me rather than hurrying out the door.

Greater presence.

He prepares dinner every Tuesday. He’s in the kitchen, asking Ben about school while giggling at his own burnt garlic bread, although it’s never fancy—usually pasta or tacos.

It’s all awkward and lovely.

Despite his lack of athletic ability, he began coaching Benjamin’s soccer team. Cameron shouted encouragement from the sidelines, Ben smiled like a child who had finally gotten his father back, and I watched them from the orange-slice-adorned bleachers.

And Cameron doesn’t flinch when I pick up his phone now. He makes no attempt to grasp it. He doesn’t become agitated. He just lets me.

We continue to discuss what transpired. When necessary, but not every day. On other nights, one of us will break the silence because it seems heavy with memories.

Somebody would say, “I’m still sorry,” And that’s sufficient at times.

On other nights, we cry. We both let it out, unguarded and honest.

But the majority of nights?

In the middle of a movie, we nod off on the couch. Ben occasionally squeezes in between us, placing his feet on Cameron’s lap and his head on my shoulder. As if he were five again.

As if no time had passed.

There are flaws in our family. We have some bruises. Now a bit softer.

But Cameron finally realized what was worth keeping that night, on a frozen road in the middle of nowhere.

And what’s the reality? I did, too. We all returned home after that.