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.