Happy Birthday, He Cheated

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months.

Said he was swamped at work. Always tired.

After everything, I still believed him.

Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood.

"You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?"

Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas."

My hands curled into fists.

Silent tears streamed down my face.

He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?"

I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched."

It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

Six years into our marriage.

Derrick Stratton cheated.

We hadn't made out in three months, not even once.

They say if your husband's not touching you, he's probably busy with someone else in bed.

I didn't wanna believe it—until tonight.

He was in the shower.

His phone buzzed.

Local number. No name.

It felt off.

"Hello? Who's this?"

There was silence on the other end. Then a click.

They knew who I was.

I didn't even know what I felt—just this weird ache, like something slipping through my fingers.

Trying not to think nonsense, I grabbed Derrick's phone.

Lock screen? Us.

Profile pic? Holding hands, all coupley.

His posts? Me, me, me.

I almost let it go. Thought maybe it was a wrong number.

Then I traced the call.

It was his assistant—Sabrina Leclair.

I opened their chat.

Looked squeaky clean—just work stuff.

But my gut said nah.

So I checked his bank records.

Boom.

Transfers to Sabrina. $999. $1,430. And a bunch more.

My chest tightened.

He was cheating.

I stared at the screen—our smiling faces felt like a sick joke.

Derrick, the guy who used to act like I was his whole world, had betrayed me.

I met Derrick when I was seventeen.

My parents had just died, and some relatives dragged me up to Granton City.

I had nothing. I barely spoke. School sucked. Kids picked on me just because they could.

Then Derrick showed up.

Chased them off, threw his sun-warmed jacket over my shoulders, pulled me in.

"You really that dumb? Letting people walk all over you?" he snapped.

I just stood there, stunned.

That was the beginning.

We became inseparable—shared everything. Then came love.

His parents didn't like me. Said I wasn't good enough for him because I was an orphan.

Derrick didn't care.

Dragged me to their doorstep like, "Mom, Dad, she's the one. I'm marrying her."

They caved because he wouldn't budge.

Because of him, life finally felt like it meant something.

Even when Derrick left for Garmenia, he called me every single day. Told me everything.

Two years later, he came back the second he graduated. We