You know when you get home from work the last thing you want to see is a dirty home? Except, that’s exactly what you get — a house in utter chaos.

I walked into my home, hoping to find the girls busy with their homework and Owen sitting at the table with them, helping out wherever necessary.

“Thank goodness, you’re home!” Lily, my eleven-year-old, exclaimed, taking my bag from me.

“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.

“Emma and I are starving!” she said, rolling her eyes. “Meanwhile, Dad’s been watching TV all afternoon.”

“What?” I asked, looking around the house to find Emma’s toys strewn around. “Why is the house such a mess?”

In the background, I could hear the TV blaring. Of course, Owen would be sitting in front of the TV, acting as though nothing was wrong with the house.

“Emma threw a tantrum because I gave her a granola bar,” Lily said. “I know she doesn’t like them, but she didn’t want yoghurt either.”

Emma was eight and truly believed in the princess lifestyle. Owen, Lily, and I were all just subjects living in my daughter’s world.

Lily hung onto my arm — always my shadow.

“Come on, let me talk to Dad,” I said.

In the living room, Owen was stretched out on the couch, almost asleep.

“Owen!” I called out. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, stretching. “Everything’s fine.”

“The kids are hungry, the house is a mess. There’s no dinner prepared. Look at the time!”

Owen rolled his eyes.

Now, don’t get me wrong — I didn’t expect Owen to do everything. I worked from home every other day, and on those days, I had everything under control.

Owen was a lecturer, and while a lot of his lectures were online, he did go onto campus when necessary. On the days he worked from home, he was in charge of taking care of the girls and dinner until I got home.

“I lost track of the time,” Owen said sheepishly. “Emma has been throwing a tantrum all afternoon and refuses to reason with me. Lily has been rude. She only wanted you to help with her homework. And all I’ve wanted to do is sleep. I’m not feeling, Mel. I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

Lily scoffed beside me.

“And I had a rough day, Mel,” he said. “I’ve had a fever on and off.”

Owen continued to complain about his day. As he listed off the things that made his day horrible, he became more animated.

“How about you and Emma clear up the toys and Lily and I will start dinner?” I asked.

Owen sighed. I knew he wanted to do anything else but that. But I didn’t give him much of a choice.

“Are you angry, Mom?” Lily asked me as she took out all the veggies I needed for a stir-fry.

“No, darling,” I said. “Not with you and Emma, anyway.”

Later, after I had fed the kids and was about to do a few loads of laundry, when Lily followed me upstairs.

“Dad asked us not to tell you,” Lily whispered. “But he also went somewhere while you were gone.”

Anxiety took over me.

Owen had told me, in front of Lily, that he had been feeling unwell and needed to rest for most of the day. And yet, he had lied. He had left the girls to fend for himself while he went off somewhere. It made no sense.

What was my husband up to?

After dinner, Owen sat across the counter from me, eating ice cream. He started to complain about his day again.

I half-listened while washing the dishes. My thoughts were consumed by the revelation that was burning a hole in my heart. Where had Owen gone?

I knew that my husband was lying to me. But I just didn’t know the reason. So, I pretended not to suspect anything and continued with my chores before bed.

What else could I do without any proof?

The next morning, Owen was suddenly much better.

“Mel,” he said. “I have to go to the office for a few hours. I have papers to grade and I lost an entire day yesterday.”

“But it’s the weekend, and your Mom is coming over to spend time with us,” I said.

“I’ll catch up with Mom later,” he replied, getting dressed.

While Owen fussed around our room and got dressed, I went through my phone, rememering that I could track his recent location through geolocation.

My jaw dropped when I saw that he had been at a restaurant not too far from home.

He really left our children at home to go to a restaurant? I thought.

When Owen’s mother came over later that day, she took over playing with the girls—wanting to paint with them, braid their hair and even bake a bunch of different cupcakes and cookies with them.

“Mom,” Lily came running to me. “We need chocolate chips, we want to bake with Gran and there’s nothing in the cupboard.”

The last thing I wanted to do was leave the comfort of my home. But I was going crazy wondering what Owen was doing. Because I had been with the girls, I didn’t try and look at his location.

I didn’t want to be distracted with them on my day off, but I was.

So, going to get chocolate chips would be the perfect opportunity for me to locate Owen.

“Fine,” I told Lily. “I’ll go get some. Ask Gran if she needs anything else. Make me a list.”

First, I went to the grocery store to get everything my girl’s needed. Despite what I felt about Owen and the curiosity of his whereabouts almost killed me.

Then, I went through my phone again, and found Owen’s location. He was another restaurant, not far from where I worked. I drove to the location and parked, eager to walk around and look for my husband.

And there he was.

Owen, the man I had married when I was twenty-two, in an intimate embrace with another woman next to the restaurant building.

“I saw you today,” I finally blurted out, that night when Owen and I were alone in our bedroom.

“What? When?” he asked, confusion flickered across his face, quickly replaced by concern.

“You weren’t alone, Owen.”

“You followed me?” he asked, dropping his spoon onto the counter.

“I was in the area,” I lied. “I went to get things for the girls to bake.”

“Mel, I can explain,” he stammered.

“Who is she?” I asked.

“Mel,” he said. “Let’s not do this. I can explain. It’s not what you think.”

But I didn’t want to hear any of his excuses; from what I had seen, it was exactly as I thought.

I didn’t want to entertain any of it. The image of his betrayal was so vivid.

Eventually, Owen left the kitchen, dragging his feet as he went.

After I packed the girls’ lunch for the next day, I got into bed.

Owen was asleep, snoring loudly.

I felt repulsed at the sight of him.

I thought about how I would explain this to Lily and Emma.

Emma, minus the tantrums, loved Owen. She loved that he got onto the floor and played with her. She loved that he would tickle her until tears streamed down her red face.

Lily, on the other hand, would be devastated. She was a mama’s girl through and through, but she always looked to Owen to protect her. In some ways, he was her knight in shining armor.

Was.

Now, everything was different. Owen had chosen another woman over our family.

I tossed and turned the entire night, uncertain of what I was going to do next.

I just knew that I didn’t want to be with Owen anymore. Seeing him with another woman had changed how I felt about him.

The next morning, Owen had coffee and toast ready and waiting for me.

“Talk to me,” Owen said. “What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know,” I said, truthfully.

And I didn’t. There was no winning in this situation. If I stayed with Owen, I would be miserable. If I left, my children would face the consequences of that.

All I knew was that Owen wasn’t the man I had married.

What would you do?