After eight years of sacrifice, I thought I was witnessing the miracle I’d prayed for—my husband David stood on his own two feet for the first time since his accident. I believed it was our second chance. Instead, a week later, he handed me divorce papers.
We had built a life together: two children, a home, a love I thought was unbreakable. When his car accident left him paralyzed, I became everything—caregiver, breadwinner, mother. I never left his side. But while I was holding him up, he was betraying me. The accident? He’d been on his way to his mistress. And for years, I unknowingly funded her lifestyle while drowning in debt.
He told me he wanted “freedom.” What he got was karma. In court, the truth came out. I was awarded custody, spousal support, and the justice I deserved. His mistress left him, his career crumbled, and his kids walked away.
Today, I live in peace. Not because he freed me, but because I chose to rise. His betrayal broke me—until it built me.
