**Diary Entry 10th May**
Three years ago, my husband left me for my best friend after my miscarriage. Today, I ran into them at a petrol station, and I couldnt stop smiling.
When my husband first started pulling away, I turned to my closest friend for comfort. She told me I was overreacting. Turns out, I wasnt. But fate gave me the chance to see the consequences of their betrayal.
I never thought infidelity would happen to us. You read about it in tabloids or hear whispers at dinner parties, but never imagine its your life. For five years, James and I built something togetherfilm nights on the sofa, lazy Sunday mornings with tea, jokes only we understood.
And all that time, there was Emmamy best friend since secondary school, a sister in everything but blood. She stood beside me at my wedding, holding my bouquet, crying happy tears. When I got pregnant, I thought it was the next chapter of our perfect life.
Then James changed.
At first, it was smalllate nights at the office, smiles that didnt reach his eyes. Then came the silence. He barely looked at me. Conversations became one-word answers. Nights were spent with his back turned, as if I werent there.
Exhausted and desperate, I called Emma.
“I dont understand whats happening,” I sobbed into the phone, curled up in the dark while James slept soundly beside me. “It feels like hes already gone.”
“Tara, youre overthinking it,” she said gently. “He loves you. Its just stress.”
I wanted to believe her.
But the lonelinessworse because I still had a husbandwore me down. Then one morning, I woke with a dull ache in my belly. By evening, I was in hospital, staring at the doctors moving lips but hearing nothing.
No heartbeat.
No baby.
Grief comes in waves, they say. Mine was an avalanche.
The miscarriage shattered me, but James? He was already gone. He sat beside my hospital bed, cold and silent, never reaching for my hand, never offering comfortjust waiting, like a man at a bus stop, not a father mourning his child.
A month later, he finally said the words I think hed rehearsed for weeks.
“Im not happy anymore, Tara.”
And that was it. No explanations, no emotion. Just a hollow excuse.
The day James left, there were no shouts, no tears. Just icy quiet.
“Im not happy anymore, Tara.”
I blinked at him across the kitchen table, his words like a stone in my chest.
“What?” My voice trembled.
He sighed, rubbing his temples as though *I* were the problem.
“I just dont feel anything anymore. Its been a long time.”
*Long time.*
I swallowed.
“Since I lost the baby?”
His jaw tightened.
“Its not about that.”
The lie was almost laughable.
I searched his face for guilt, regret*anything*. But he just sat there, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Thats it? Five years, and you just walk away?” My hands clenched under the table.
Another sigh, this one irritated.
“I dont want to argue, Tara.”
I laughedthat sharp, brittle laugh you only make when youre breaking.
“Oh, you dont *want* to argue? Funny, because I never had a choice in any of this.”
He stood, grabbed his keys.
“Ill stay at a mates.”
Before I could speak, the door slammed.
Soon after, Emma followed. My rock, my lifelinegone. Calls ignored. Messages left on read. Then, blocked everywhere.
Mum found out first. One evening, her voice tight, she called.
“Tara, love look at this.”
She sent a link to Emmas Instagram.
And there they were.
James and Emma. Arms around each other on a beach, laughing like theyd been in love for years.
I scrolled, hands shaking. Fancy restaurants, ski trips, cosy nights by the fireposted freely, shamelessly, while I was still his wife.
The betrayal burned like acid. But if they thought Id break, they were wrong.
I took my pain and turned it into power. James had been careless, too wrapped up in his new life to cover his tracks. In court, his infidelity became my leverage. I walked away with the house, half his savings, and the satisfaction of knowing he had to start over.
He took my trust. I took what was mine.
Starting over wasnt easy. But life rewards resilience.
A year later, I met David.
Nothing like Jameskind, attentive, never dismissing my feelings. We built a real life, not just social media perfection. Then came our daughtermy mirror image with his smile.
And then, fate gave me the best ending.
Tonight, I stopped at a petrol station. And there they were.
James and Emma.
No designer clothes, no happy photos. Just a rusted car, an argument in the shop, a crying toddler, a declined card.
“We cant even afford *petrol* now?” Emma hissed.
“You knew money was tight,” James snapped back.
Emma laughed bitterly.
“Looks like Tara won after all.”
I started the engine and drove home. To my real happiness.
