I was only gone for two days, but I returned to a broken bathroom door and two silent faces—my husband and our daughter. Neither would explain, but I sensed something was deeply wrong.

That night, I ran into our neighbor Dave, who said, “I’m sorry for what happened… I didn’t know who was inside when I slammed the door.” Confused, I pressed him, and he revealed the truth: “Lila ran to me crying… she heard strange noises and thought her dad was hurt. I broke down the door and found him… with another woman.”

The shock hit me hard. Our daughter had nearly witnessed it. “What did Lila see?” I asked, terrified. “Nothing, thank God,” Dave said. My heart shattered—how could John betray us in our home, with Lila just outside?

When I confronted John, he denied it at first. But when I said Dave had told me everything, he admitted, “She’s… a friend.” I was done. “You’ve broken something that can’t be fixed,” I told him, and I meant it.

The next day, I packed up and left with Lila. Watching her laugh again in our new place confirmed I made the right choice. We were free from lies.