Paige loves her career, even if it means being away from home a lot. However, upon returning from a business trip, she overhears a mysterious conversation between her husband and their four-year-old son. She doesn’t yet know that the fabric of her marriage is about to unravel.
When I think about the foundations of my life, I always highlight three: my husband Victor, my son Mason, and my career. Despite the storms Victor and I have weathered together, including four heartbreaking miscarriages, we emerged stronger than before.
Or so I thought.
Victor and I were a strong and supportive couple — we knew what worked for us and what didn’t. Especially when it came to healing from the miscarriages we had experienced.
‘It’s okay, Paige,’ Victor constantly reminded me. ‘We’ll get pregnant when the time is right. If not, there are other options.’
I would always smile at him, wondering when his words would come true.
But then the pregnancy test came back positive. And three months later, our baby was still thriving in my womb.
When Mason came into our lives, it felt like our broken dreams had finally come together. Mason became the one thing we focused on unconditionally. When our son needed us, we dropped everything.
‘Mason is a happy child,’ Victor said once as Mason ran around our yard. ‘He is incredibly loved.’
And he was loved. Victor and I were proud to put our son’s care above all else.
As I held the responsible position of executive director of a clothing brand, travelling was an integral part of my life. I was involved in every stage of our product development, right up to the moment the clothes arrived in stores.
This often meant leaving Victor and Mason to fend for themselves. But I didn’t mind — Victor was the perfect father. He even changed his work schedule so he could work from home more often than from the office. That way, he could be there for Mason.
‘I don’t want a nanny or babysitter looking after our son,’ Victor said one day while cooking dinner for us.
‘If you can manage during the day, I’ll take the evening shifts,’ I suggested as a compromise.
I felt bad that Victor had to be on the defensive during the day, but we had no other choice.
Recently, when Mason turned four and became a curious boy, I realised that preschool was on the horizon. So, in an effort to be more present and spend more time with him as a toddler, I vowed to limit my trips to work.
But little did anyone know that it was during my absence that the fabric of our family began to unravel.
I was away for about three days, stuck in meetings, and all I wanted was to go home and hug Mason, breathing in the scent of baby fabric softener from his clothes.
The day that changed everything was like any other. I took a taxi from the airport and eagerly awaited seeing my husband and son.
When I entered the house, it was unusually quiet, with only the sound of shuffling footsteps upstairs.
Victor’s voice was quiet but insistent, the kind Mason associated with bad behaviour and bedtime.
‘Buddy, you have to promise me one thing, okay?’ Victor said.
‘Okay,’ Mason murmured innocently. ‘What is it?’
‘You have to promise me you won’t tell Mum what you saw.’
‘But I don’t like secrets,’ Mason said. ‘Why can’t I tell Mum?’
Victor sighed deeply — the sound carried through the house like air.
‘It’s not a secret, Mason,’ he said. ‘But if we tell Mum, she’ll be sad. Do you want Mum to be sad, mate?’
It was my son’s turn to sigh.
‘No, I don’t,’ he said.
I sighed deeply, feeling that the conversation was over. Climbing down from my seat halfway to the stairs, I put down my bags and called out.
‘Mason! Victor! Mummy’s home!’ I called loudly.
‘We’re here,’ Victor shouted.
I walked into Mason’s room and saw Victor sitting on his bed and our son sitting on the floor surrounded by his toys.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked, and Mason jumped into my arms.
‘Nothing, sweetheart,’ Victor replied with a wink. ‘Just boys’ talk. Welcome home.’
Victor stood up and kissed me on the top of my head as I was leaving.
‘I have to get back to work,’ he said.
I spent the rest of the evening feeling anxious. I wanted to believe Victor when he said that the conversation I had overheard was really nothing important.
Perhaps Victor wants to hide the fact that he gave Mason too much sugar or unhealthy food in general, I thought to myself.
After all, Victor had never given me any reason to doubt him. Still, I couldn’t sleep that night. I tossed and turned, and when I couldn’t sleep, I scrolled through my phone, wanting to know how our new clothing line was doing.
I tried to occupy my mind as much as possible. But Victor’s whispered words haunted me: could something as simple as eating the wrong food make me “sad”?
Something was wrong, I knew it.
The week-long business trip that followed was torture for me. I loved my job, and I enjoyed working on the new campaign we were launching. But I hated being away from Mason for so long. Victor’s daily photos of Mason were my only consolation, until one of the photos raised more questions than it answered.
Victor sent me a series of photos — each one showing my son playing with a new toy. But in one of the photos, there was a pair of blue boots in the background. They weren’t mine. Yet there they were, in my living room.
They teased me.
My heart was racing as I scrolled through previous photos, trying to find new signs of betrayal that I had missed while rejoicing at seeing my son.
The flight home was a blur. I sat in my seat and scrolled through the incriminating photos — there were about six of them, proving that another woman was constantly in our house. I drank champagne to calm my nerves.
I knew that as soon as I walked into my house, everything would change. Either my husband would admit that there was someone else in his life, or that a nanny was looking after our son.
A nanny with expensive shoes, I thought.
I entered the house, leaving my luggage in the living room. The house was quiet again — but that was logical. It was Mason’s nap time.
First, I went into my son’s room. He had just woken up and was rubbing his eyes.
‘Hello, sweetie,’ I said, kissing him on the top of his head.
Before he could answer, muffled sounds came from my bedroom.
‘Is Daddy not downstairs?’ I asked, getting up.
Mason looked at me for a long time.
‘Mummy, don’t go in there. You’ll be sad,’ he warned, his words echoing the secret agreement I had overheard.
Driven by a mixture of horror and anger, I approached my bedroom. The muffled sounds coming from inside were confirmation enough. I braced myself and opened the door.
Victor swore.
The woman unclung from my husband and the bedsheets.
‘Paige!’ he exclaimed, sitting up in bed. ‘It’s not what you think!’
I laughed.
‘Do I really look that stupid?’ I asked, feeling tears welling up in my eyes.
The woman gathered her clothes and locked herself in our bathroom.
What followed was a torrent of tears, accusations and emotional turmoil. Victor tried to deny everything — he was a charming man. And I knew that if I hadn’t witnessed it myself, I might have believed his lies.
‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ I said.
‘What did you expect, Paige?’ Victor asked later.
The woman was gone, and I was left alone with a man I no longer knew.
‘You’re never here,’ he blurted out. ‘You’re never around. And when you’re home, you spend all your time at Mason’s or at work. What about me?’
I listened as Victor told me that he was the victim in this story.
‘I need human interaction too,’ he said. ‘And I don’t know what you do when you’re flying all over the country. I’m sure you have stories too.’
Mason was put back to bed, and his bedroom door was closed — all so that my son would not lose any more of his innocence.
‘No, Victor,’ I said. ‘I’m not you. My vows mean something to me.’
After that, I took a walk around the neighbourhood. I felt guilty for leaving Mason with Victor again. But I needed a moment. I felt like a traitor — yes, I worked all the time. I couldn’t deny that. But my job also supported our home — it wasn’t just Victor who had to provide for us.
And then, what about Mason? How long had my son been exposed to this?
When had Mason been forced to keep his father’s infidelity a secret?
I felt sick to my stomach.
How many women were there?
How many had Mason seen?
I knew Victor was a good father, but how good could he be if he was living this kind of life in front of his son?
I went home and made dinner. Victor was holed up in his study, sitting at his computer. He was furious. I could feel it. But I knew it was because he had been caught.
Later, when I told my family what had happened, their hugs were a comfort to me. My parents urged me to make Victor move out.
‘Let him go,’ my father said. ‘You and Mason need to be comfortable.’
In the end, Victor took his things. But he still denied the affair — apparently, I didn’t know what I saw.
At least he didn’t contest the divorce.
‘He’s trying to save what little dignity he has left,’ my mother said on the phone.
Reflecting on the secret conversation that set everything in motion, I realised that the signs had always been there. I had chosen to see only the best in Victor, constantly ignoring the whispers of doubt.
Now, armed with the bitter truth, I was determined to rebuild my life — not only for myself, but for Mason as well.
