When Sam offered to surprise me and the kids, I knew something was wrong. His strange behaviour screamed of infidelity. But when I returned early to catch him red-handed, I was confronted with a much darker truth.
He suggested: “You deserve a holiday, Cindy. Take Allison and Philip, have fun.”
But when I asked: ‘Aren’t you coming with us?’ – he just scratched his neck and mumbled: ‘Big project at work…’
The kids and I left, but I was plagued with suspicion all week. On the fifth day, leaving the kids with the babysitter, I came home – ready for anything. But I wasn’t prepared for THIS.
On my sofa sat my mother-in-law Helen, drinking tea from my favourite mug. Around her stood her suitcases.
Surprise! – she said with a wry smile. – Sam didn’t tell you I’d moved?
He stood beside her, pale, silent. Not a word of explanation, not a drop of regret. Later, overhearing their conversation in the kitchen, I heard Helen say:
She doesn’t know how to run a household. And the children are so noisy.
You’re right, Mum,” Sam replied.
And that’s when everything in me broke. The next morning I said we’d stay in the hotel longer…
But instead I went to the lawyer and the bank. Three days later, the lorry was taking my things away. I left Sam a note:
“You can live with Mummy. We’re gone. Don’t look for us.”
He called, begging, saying he’d kicked her out… But the neighbour reported:
“Your mother-in-law brings boxes every day. Looks like she’ll be here for a long time.
I laughed through my tears.
That night my daughter asked me:
Mum, when are we coming home?
We’re home now, baby. This is our new home.
And Daddy?
He’s staying with Grandma Helen.
Philip said:
Yeah. Grandma Helen is mean.
Sometimes the other woman isn’t the mistress at all. It’s the one who raised your husband. And sometimes the best thing you can do is leave them both behind.
