I didn’t know how I found the courage, but my hands were shaking as I clicked on the second video.

In the video, Mark was in a glass shower with water running over him. On the floor, two used condoms lay discarded on the carpet.

The woman—his mistress—zoomed in on them for effect, then asked him, “Mark, you’re so bad! Lying to your wife again, saying you’re out here working.”

“If I didn’t lie, how would I have time to be with you?” he replied casually.

“Isn't she ready to pop? And you’re not going to be there with her?”

Mark shrugged it off, completely unfazed. “What’s the big deal about having a baby? Me being there wouldn’t make it any easier for her, would it?”

“Bad boy,” the woman teased. “Is it because your wife’s pregnant and you don’t want to touch her? Is that why you’re so desperate? I thought you might break me tonight.”

“She doesn’t feel as good as you, does she?” Mark snorted dismissively. “Even if she weren’t pregnant, I wouldn’t want to touch her.”

“Liar! If you didn't touch her, how did she get pregnant? What? Did someone else put that baby in her?”

Mark stayed silent.

Then the woman asked, “So, Mark, when are you going to divorce her?”

In a soft, reassuring tone, he said, “Baby, don’t worry, all right? It’s just not the right time yet. I’m a man of my word. I’ll make good on my promise.”

She sounded annoyed. “And when exactly will it be the right time, huh?”

“Once she’s—”

The video cut off abruptly.

I knew this was part of her deliberate plan to provoke me, to draw me into her twisted game. But I fell for it anyway.

I immediately dialed the number and demanded, “Who the hell are you?”

It was like she had been waiting for me to call. She answered coolly, taking her sweet time. “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that I just finished sleeping with your husband.”

I heard running water in the background. Mark was probably still in the shower, and she felt bold enough to taunt me like this.

My heart felt like it was being torn apart, but I mustered the strength to stay calm, choking back the tears. “Do you have any shame at all?”

She laughed softly. “I’d have to be shameless to steal your husband, wouldn’t I?” Her voice was dripping with smugness. “June Rand, if you’ve got any dignity left, you’d just go ahead and divorce him. Give me my spot.”

“You—” I was about to fire back when I heard Mark’s voice in the background.

“Hey, baby, who are you talking to?”

“Your wife,” she cooed.

Mark chuckled, unperturbed. “You’re such a tease.”

“I’m serious! You don’t believe me?”

“Oh, I believe you. Why don’t you let her listen to how good I’m making you feel?”

Suddenly, the phone was filled with the most disgusting, vile sounds. It was clear she had hidden the phone somewhere, purposely letting me hear the filthy things they were doing together.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I hung up, feeling nauseated.

It was only then, after all these years of thinking I knew Mark, that I realized he had this whole other side to him, a side I could never have imagined. Tears streamed down my face as my heart shattered into a thousand pieces.

During the early months of my pregnancy, I had low progesterone and terrible morning sickness. I couldn’t keep anything down—not even water. The doctor had advised me to rest as much as possible, and Mark had insisted that I quit my job to focus on the pregnancy. Since then, I’d been at home, browsing the internet and coming across countless stories from women who shared how their husbands had cheated on them while they were pregnant.

Sometimes, I’d even share those stories with Mark, shocked and heartbroken for those women. How could men betray their wives while they were going through something as painful and life-changing as pregnancy?

Each time, Mark would reassure me, saying, “If I ever cheated on you, you’d have every right to chop me up and dispose of my body. I’d deserve it.”

He’d always follow it up with, “Baby, stop reading that nonsense. My love for you is as clear as the sky. You know that.”

And I believed him. I had convinced myself that while other men might cheat, my husband never would. In hindsight, wasn’t that belief just ridiculously pathetic?