Beyond status – My husband was having an affair, and I had no idea. It was his best friend, Anthony, who told me—right in front of everyone. Oscar flew into a rage. He stepped forward and punched Anthony square in the jaw. “What the hell is wrong with you? Shut your mouth! Whose side are you on, anyway?” Anthony took the hit without flinching. “Oscar, I’ll let you have that one punch. I’ve been biting my tongue for way too long. Every time we go out to the karaoke bar, you bring that girl along—then come home and play the doting husband for Naomi. “Naomi, you think he’s working late, but he’s out partying with us. The reason he doesn’t come home until morning is because after work, he goes straight to her. “He bought her a place—right across the street from your apartment.” My birthday party had turned into a farce. And yet, somehow, I wasn’t the most humiliated person in the room.
Oscar was. He never imagined his best friend would stab him in the back like that. One by one, everyone left. The crowd dispersed, a murmur of judgment hanging in the air—some pitying me, some laughing at me, some cursing Oscar as a scumbag, others calling Anthony a traitor for breaking the bro code. Anthony faced it head-on. “How is that unfair? Was it *fair* for Oscar to announce he wanted a divorce in front of everyone? He wants out but throws all the blame on his wife—so people think she’s some controlling witch who drove him away. If this happened to any of you, would you really want your husband’s *friends* to cover for him?” He said it loud enough for everyone still within earshot. The room fell silent. Oscar stood seething, jaw clenched, fists balled as if ready to charge again. A dead quiet settled over us. I looked at him. “How long?” How had I not known? “Two years,” he said. “She’s still in school.
Don’t go after her. She’s had it rough, okay? She’s from the middle of nowhere.” “Naomi, you’re not like her. You could walk away from anyone and still land on your feet. But she can’t. She has no family, only me. Without me, she wouldn’t survive.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “So I’m the one who deserves to be abandoned? Betrayed? If it weren’t for Anthony, I’d have left my own birthday party labeled as the controlling wife who drove her husband away. You make me sick.” “I’m sorry. She’s pregnant. I have to give her security. She’s still a student. If I didn’t push you like this, you’d never agree to a divorce.” A hollow laugh escaped me, one that quickly broke into tears. “What do you take me for? You want a divorce, and you think I’d beg you to stay? If you’d just told me—‘I’m seeing someone else, I want a divorce’—do you really think I’d cling to you?” Oscar didn’t answer. Just a muttered “I’m sorry,” before he turned and walked out.
That was the day I learned Oscar had another home, another life, right across the street. He’d bought that woman an apartment. I locked myself in my room for three days. Three days without work. I saw the gossip swirling in the office group chat. [Naomi’s husband was cheating! He’s got another woman! But her social media is full of travel photos with him! They’re together all the time—when did he even have time to cheat?] [You’re thinking too small. I’ve seen husbands sneak off for a quickie on the way to pick up the kids!] [They’ve been together since college, I heard. Eight years. Married right after graduation. The apartment they live in now was bought by Naomi. Her husband was broke when they got together—she even covered the living expenses. Now that life’s comfortable, the man’s eyes start wandering.] [Do you think she’ll divorce him? Wouldn’t that just let the bastard off too easy?] I closed the group chat, refusing to read any more.
Opening my social media, I started deleting every single post about Oscar, one by one. Once, I was the woman who had it all—a successful career, a picture-perfect marriage, a handsome, wealthy husband who doted on me. The woman everyone envied. Even back home, relatives would crowd around, saying how lucky I was. Top grades, a top university, a great career, a wonderful husband. Just add a baby in a couple of years, and it’d be perfect.
They all said I had an eye for talent, that I never looked down on a man when he was down, that I knew how to invest in potential. That I was the one who helped my husband climb to where he is today. He built his own company, became the untouchable Mr. Oscar. He must have truly forgotten—all the struggle, the poverty, the aching embarrassment of having no money yet still scrambling to get me a birthday present.