I Accidentally Discovered My Husband’s Desire to Cheat on Me with Another Woman, So I Taught Him the Lesson of His Life

My spouse had been sleeping with his phone in his pocket for about a year, but nothing had quite grabbed my attention like that. I initially convinced myself that it was merely paranoia and that he might be being unduly cautious with his expensive new device. But as I would soon discover, there was a purpose to Mark’s excessive caution when using his phone.

He never took it out in front of me; instead, he would frequently type messages while hiding behind a blanket or quickly pocket it as soon as I entered the room. Really, I didn’t need to be a genius to figure out that he was keeping something from me. And I was aware that nothing good would come of it.

Finally, after some time of this sly texting, I got a chance to see what he was keeping so close to the vest. Now, I never wanted to be the girlfriend who looked through her husband’s phone; yet, I also never imagined that my husband would forbid me from even looking at the screen of his phone. Furthermore, my intention was never to snoop in the first place.

Mark’s phone fell out of his sweatshirt pocket one chilly night when we were curled up under a blanket in front of the TV on the couch. I expected him to panic and take it off the ground faster than normal, but instead he continued to snore.

It ended up buzzing sporadically near my legs, presumably for late-night notifications. I disregarded it for a while. All I wanted to do was get to bed after watching the final episode of the show I had been binge-watching.

I reached for it eventually, as the credits began to roll, with the sole purpose of plugging it into the bedside charger. But as soon as I picked it up, the screen brightened and a flood of dating app notifications appeared. “Of course,” I seem to have thought. “Of course, this would be what Mark was doing after two years of me supporting him.”

As you can see, Mark hasn’t had a work for a long. I’ve had to shoulder all of his costs continuously, for whatever it was he “needed to get back in the game.” When I look back, I feel so foolish. You can bet that I was even more foolish when I saw him staring at random girls on dating apps.

As I stood there holding his phone, I felt resentment and anger building inside of me. For a split second, I considered hitting him hard enough to wake him up. However, no. I wouldn’t be reduced to a punching bag of tears, encouraging him to turn the whole affair against me.

Rather than crying, I dabbed at the few tears that had fallen and made a plan. I needed to teach him not to underestimate me if he was going to betray our relationship. And I was well capable of doing that.

I gave my pal Lisa a call the following day. She had never met my husband, but she was gorgeous, blonde, and had piercing blue eyes that could stop a guy in his tracks. I made a fictitious profile on the same dating app using her photos, with her consent. I had the impression that I was investigating my own connection. He swiped right on her profile, exactly as I had predicted. When we paired, the actual match started.

Over the course of a week, we had more in-depth chats. He informed me that he was living alone with his live-in girlfriend, a “roommate,” something I was unaware of. My stomach turned over at the outrageousness of his falsehoods, but I went along with it.

Embarrassing texts developed into plans, and before long, we were setting up a meeting place in a downtown hotel. Eager, maybe a little too eager, he accepted everything, even the cost of the hotel room.

I was the one handling our finances alone, so I wasn’t blind to the absurdity of the situation. While spending his days on the sofa, he would make promises to get me a new employment, but he would also continuously try to influence me. He would say, “We take care of each other because we’re family.” My savings had been lost by those words. My student loans, our rent, and all the other costs associated with living in a metropolis overwhelmed me to the point of drowning. He did this to repay me for all the times I had stood by him.

But our scheduled hotel meet-up day was drawing near, and I could feel my excitement rising to the surface of my chest. I was going to make it the most fulfilling thing I had ever done in my life, having gone to tremendous measures to expose him. It was an easy plan: He would go to the hotel (which, incidentally, I had to pay for) and wait there. I would then initiate action.

Never I will never forget the smug smile on his face the morning he “left for his mom’s.” It seemed carefree, like if he were leaving on vacation. He informed me that he would likely spend the night, and I wished him well, stifling a resentful chuckle.

I started working as soon as his car was out of sight. I started by carefully packing all of his possessions into boxes and bags and placing them outside our apartment on the curb. His belongings wouldn’t survive one hour on the street because he lived in a busy metropolis, and I was right. My plan’s second stage was to hire a locksmith to replace all of the house’s locks.

Mark continued to believe that his date was getting ready for their special evening together in the interim. He sent her (I assume me) a few messages, anxious and anticipating, and I continued the act, telling him I was sorry for being late and that I wanted to look beautiful for him. Constantly encouraging, my friend had sent him some explicit pictures where her face was hidden to keep him hooked.

I kept him waiting till around one in the morning, the suspense growing with each hour that went by. I finally wrote him one last message on the dating app, and it wasn’t the romantic message he was hoping for; instead, it was a sobering reminder of reality. It was an image of his possessions, which were now all over the pavement and being rummaged through by a homeless man.

In addition to the picture, I wrote, “Enjoy your stay in the hotel.” I turned off the lights and blocked his number the moment my phone began ringing and his name appeared on the caller ID. I slept better that night than I have in months. I had the impression that I had just completed my greatest spring cleaning ever. Suddenly, I had no more unwelcome clutter in my house, and I knew that no one was taking advantage of my financial situation.

I had a calm weekend and came back to work on Monday feeling more focused. But he was there when I got close to my flat that night. He appeared disorganised. His attitude was one of despair, and his eyes were puffy and red from sobbing. With tears streaming down his face, he begged for my pardon and a place to stay, claiming he had nowhere else to go. Seeing how pathetic he was made me almost pause, but then I thought about the lies and the betrayal.

His sorrowful farce immediately gave way to rage when I made it obvious that I wouldn’t let him in; it was a fast shift in his demeanour that I had seen far too often. He started to grasp at me, attempting to get through me and enter the flat. I shoved him back out and closed myself in as that old resentment bubbled up again.

I shook and dialled the police. After a short while, they showed there, and I requested a restraining order against Mark. He’d threatened my pets as well as myself. His hateful last comments, said as the police escorted him off, no longer affected me. I had finished.

After that day, I heard through the grapevine that he had taken a job and relocated a few hours away to live with his only family. It could have been the shock of losing everything that ultimately motivated him to make a change in behaviour. After everything he’d done to me, I felt good about being free, even though part of me stung at the prospect of him maybe turning his life around.

I glanced back from my newly secure flat and saw what a terrible cycle we had been living in. Even though the entire experience had been agonising, I believe it had taught me how crucial it is to advocate for oneself.

In what way would you have handled this?