I never thought I’d be the kind of wife who spies on her husband. But when his behavior toward our daughter became unsettling, I had no choice.
For weeks, he had been cold—avoiding me, snapping over little things, and worst of all, ignoring our two-year-old girl. The man who once rocked her to sleep now acted like she didn’t exist.
Yet, when weekends came and I had to work, he suddenly wanted to be the doting father. “I’ll take care of her,” he’d insist. “No need to call your mom.” It didn’t add up.
Then, I noticed the changes in our daughter. After those weekends, she was withdrawn, refusing food, flinching when he came near. She’d bury her face in my shoulder, her little hands gripping my shirt like she was afraid he’d take her away.
I couldn’t ignore it anymore. I bought a small camera and hid it in her room before my next shift. That evening, I watched the footage with my stomach in knots.
At first, nothing seemed off—just my husband on the couch while our daughter played. Then, a knock at the door. A woman walked in, all smiles. My daughter went still. “Go to your room,” he told her, shutting the door behind her.
What followed shattered me. My baby cried for me, screaming, banging on the door, while just down the hall, my husband and his mistress enjoyed their stolen time together.
The betrayal cut deep, but the cruelty toward our child? Unforgivable.
I filed for divorce the next day. Some secrets aren’t meant to stay hidden—and some men don’t deserve second chances.
