My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband was renting a secret house on the outskirts. What I found when I visited unveiled a heart-stopping truth, exposing the dark reality of the man I thought I knew. For years, I thought my husband Stan and I were living a fairy tale. He was my soulmate, not just a partner I shared the same roof or bed with, and I happily put his wishes first, even delaying having children. Then, one day, a forgotten phone revealed the painful truth: my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.Stan and I met during a press conference in Tokyo seven years ago. We’ve been together ever since, married for five of those golden years. He seemed perfect in every sense of the word. “Mindy, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Stan once said, collapsing onto our plush sofa after a long day at work. “But seeing your face makes it all better.” I smiled, settling next to him.
“Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.” Those were the days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.Stan loved me and showered me with precious gifts, but after some time, I got bored of his expensive gifts. I wanted him, his time, and not those materialistic sparkly diamonds or opulent pearls. “Another necklace?” I once asked, trying to mask my disappointment as I opened the velvet box. Stan beamed, oblivious to my tone. “Only the best for you, darling.”I forced a smile, wishing he’d understand that his presence was worth more than any jewelry.Stan worked in an office in an amazing position and made good money. But the thing is, he started spending more time at work while I stayed at home, dusting, cooking, and cleaning.
