I never thought betrayal would happen to me. For five years, Michael and I built a life together. It wasn’t perfect, but it was ours. We had movie nights, Sunday coffee runs, and inside jokes that only we understood. My best friend, Anna, was always there too—my maid of honor at our wedding and my rock during tough times.
When I got pregnant, I thought it was the start of a new chapter. But Michael started to change. He became distant, staying late at work and barely talking to me. I was exhausted, pregnant, and desperate to fix whatever was wrong. I turned to Anna for comfort, but she brushed off my concerns, telling me I was overthinking.
Then, I lost the baby. The miscarriage shattered me, but Michael seemed unaffected. He sat beside me in the hospital, cold and silent. A month later, he told me he wasn’t happy anymore and left.
Anna, my best friend, stopped answering my calls soon after. I didn’t understand why until my mother sent me a link to Anna’s Instagram. There they were—Michael and Anna, laughing on a beach, looking like they’d been in love for years. The betrayal was unbearable, but I refused to let it destroy me.
I used the evidence of their affair to my advantage during the divorce. I walked away with the house, half of Michael’s money, and the satisfaction of knowing he’d have to start over.
Starting over wasn’t easy, but life rewarded my resilience. A year later, I met Daniel. He was everything Michael wasn’t—kind, attentive, and understanding. We built a life together and welcomed a beautiful baby girl. I finally had the happiness that had been stolen from me.
Then, one night, fate gave me the sweetest closure. I stopped at a gas station and saw Michael and Anna. Their car was a wreck, and they were arguing over a declined credit card. Anna was holding a crying baby, and Michael looked defeated.
As I watched them struggle, I couldn’t help but smile. Karma had caught up with them, and I was living proof that life gets better after heartbreak.
