For eleven years, I believed I had the perfect family. A wife, two kids, a house in the outskirts of Madrid, and a stable life without any major turmoil. From the outside, we looked like the ideal happy family: dinners together, vacations on the coast, Sunday strolls.
But it was all a lie.
Somewhere along the way, something between us died. There were no screaming matches, no obvious affairs, no dramatic fights. Just a slow, cruel indifference.
We stopped being a couple. We stopped looking each other in the eyes. Our conversations dwindled down to the bare essentials: “Did you pay the electric bill?”, “The kid has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow,” “We’re out of milk.” There was no love, no passion—just routine and responsibility.
And I accepted it. Because sometimes, doing nothing is easier than facing the truth.
Then she came into my life.
She was everything my wife wasn’t. There was light in her eyes, she smiled with sincerity, and made me feel seen—important. With her, I remembered what it felt like to be wanted, to be admired.
At first, I tried to ignore it. I told myself it was just infatuation, a fleeting fantasy. But day by day, the feeling grew stronger.
We started meeting in secret. Every time I saw her, it was like coming up for air after drowning—an escape from the lifeless marriage I was stuck in.
But secrets never stay hidden forever.
One night, after holding me close, she looked me in the eyes and said:
— I don’t want to be a secret. Either you’re with me, or you’re not.
That’s when I knew—I couldn’t keep postponing the inevitable.
The conversation that shattered my life
That same night, once the kids were asleep, I sat across from my wife at the kitchen table. She was there, like always, eyes fixed on her phone, distant.
I took a deep breath and said:
— We need to talk.
She sighed, barely looking up.
— I can’t go on like this, — I confessed. — I don’t love you anymore. Haven’t for a long time. I need a fresh start. But I’ll always be there for the kids.
I braced myself for anything—tears, shouting, pleading.
What she did was far worse.
Without saying a word, she stood up, walked to the hallway, opened the closet, and pulled out two large suitcases.
She dropped them onto the floor with a loud thud.
— Take them, — she said coldly.
I just stared at her.
— I don’t need much. Just a bag with the essentials.
Then she smiled. But it wasn’t a sad or angry smile—it was something else. Chilling. Calculated. And it made my blood run cold.
— You said you’d take care of the kids, right? — she whispered. — So I’ll pack their bags too. They’re leaving with you.
I felt a knot tighten in my throat.
— What are you talking about?
She crossed her arms and leaned casually against the doorway, her expression eerily calm.
— I’m done pretending. I’ve been the perfect wife. I gave everything to this family. But I’m finished. I’ll find another man. And it’ll be much easier without kids.
My world crumbled.
— You can’t be serious…
She chuckled under her breath.
— Did you really think I didn’t know? That I didn’t notice the late nights? The way you stopped looking at me? I knew all along. I was just waiting for the right moment.
She grabbed her phone, sent a message, and smiled again—but not at me.
And in that moment, I realized the truth.
I thought I was the one making the choices. I thought I had control. But she had planned everything. I was just another piece on her chessboard.
Trapped in my own nightmare
And now I’m here, completely lost.
On one hand, there’s the woman who made me feel alive again. But will she still want me when she finds out I come with two children?
On the other hand, there’s the woman I spent over a decade with—the one who revealed her true face tonight. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless.
I don’t know what to do.
I don’t even know if there is a right choice.
But I do know one thing.
For eleven years, I thought I knew my wife.
And tonight, I discovered I’ve been sleeping next to a monster.