I suppose I was living evidence of the adage that “love makes you blind.” I had complete faith in my husband, Kyle, when he quit his work, claiming to be ill. I put forth more effort and offered him all of my money. But the reality that I discovered? All of it was broken.
You never expect someone you love to tell lies. Particularly when it comes to something as important as their health. But in hindsight, I ought to have recognized the warning signs.
Before a stranger pulled down her car window and told me something I never expected, I missed them all.
My pride and joy have always been being a wife and mother. I wouldn’t give my hectic days of work, housework, and family time for anything.
I truly enjoy my work as a project manager for a software company. I make enough money from it to sustain my small family.
My greatest sources of motivation are our two boys, Jake and Liam.
Twelve-year-old Liam is gifted in science and has an inquisitive mind. He is constantly experimenting with devices or asking endless questions about how they operate. Our little athlete, Jake, is ten years old. He is the type of child that is constantly racing his bike or kicking a soccer ball around the neighborhood.
Then there is my 15-year husband, Kyle.
My rock has always been Kyle. He is the stable presence that keeps our family rooted and the quiet in my chaos.
He was employed at a logistics company as an operations manager, which kept him busy but paid well for us.
Sometimes I would think, “I’m so lucky,” as I watched him joke with the boys or tell them about his day across the dinner table.
It was a good life.
However, all changed one afternoon when Kyle appeared at the front door with a folder in his hands and a ghostly appearance.
I looked up from my laptop and remarked, “Hey, you’re home early.” But as soon as I saw his face, I realized something was off.
As he placed the folder on the table, his lips were squeezed together and his face was pale.
Kyle? What took place? With my heart racing, I got up and approached him. “Is everything all right?”
I couldn’t quite make out the expression in his eyes as he gazed up at me.
Was it terror? Feeling sorry? I’m still unsure.
With a faltering voice, he said, “Laura, I have muscular dystrophy.”
I went cold. “What?”
He sat down heavily and used both hands to wipe his face.
For months, I’ve been feeling strange. I saw the doctor and had several tests done. I’ve been so exhausted because of this.
I was at a loss for words.
“I am no longer able to work,” he added. “It’s my only chance, but I’ll need costly treatment.”
I was unable to breathe for a while. muscular dystrophy. My stomach turned as the words replayed in my head.
Across from him, I took a seat and grabbed the folder.
Test results, medical records, and doctor’s notes were all contained within. Everything appeared to be serious.
“I’m really sorry,” he said. Although I didn’t want to tell you this, I must begin treatment. I believe we will have to postpone the boys’ trip. I hate to subject kids to this, but
I took his hands in mine as I reached across the table. “Stop, Kyle. The lads will comprehend. We will resolve this. You will receive the necessary medical care.
His eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry you have to put up with this.”
As I squeezed his hand, I declared, “I am your wife.” “We’ll work together to overcome this.”
However, a chilly, nagging worry descended upon me as I sat there, gazing at those documents. How could we afford this?
I kept thinking about it as we laid in bed later that night.
As I stared at the ceiling, I said, “We’ll need more money.”
Kyle faced me. “I don’t want you to put in endless effort for me, Laura.”
“I’m capable of handling it.” With resolve in my eyes, I turned to confront him. “After work, I’ll find a part-time job. We will reduce spending. You’ll resign from your position and prioritize your well-being.
His mouth trembled. “You’d help me with that?”
“Obviously.”
I found a job wiping tables in the evenings at a nearby restaurant the following day. I would go right there to clean when my day at the software firm was over.
Even though it was exhausting, I didn’t mind.
I gave Kyle nearly all of the money I earned so he could get therapy. And I could see his transformation. He appeared more content and at ease.
Even though I wanted to give up from tiredness, seeing that gave me the willpower to continue.
The habit became instinctive. Work all day, then clean tables at night before going to bed feeling worn out.
Even though I was exhausted, it was all worthwhile when I heard Kyle say, “Thank you for everything, Laura,” or watched him grin.
During the weekdays when I was at work, he continued to attend his therapies.
He would say, “It’s best if I go alone.” “I don’t want you to miss work because of this.”
I didn’t question it. I had total faith in him.
However, an odd incident occurred one evening.
Clinging to my coat against the cold weather, I was heading to the restaurant when a white SUV drove up beside me. A stunning woman with black spectacles and well-groomed hair sat inside as the window gently rolled down.
Over the passenger seat, she leaned. “Are you Laura?”
I gripped my bag tighter as I froze. “Yes… Who is inquiring?
Her eyes were piercing and keen as she removed her sunglasses. “Is Kyle your spouse?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why? Is he alright?
With a knowing smirk on her lips, the woman cocked her head slightly. He’s more than fine, I see. However, you ought to find out where he receives his “treatments.” Examine his bank statements as well while you’re at it.
Startled, I blinked. “What? Who are you? What are you discussing?
A woman who is concerned | Source: Midjourney
A woman who is concerned | Source: Midjourney
Her lips were squeezed together as if she was considering how much to say.
She rolled the window back up and remarked, “Let’s just say I’m doing you a favor.” After that, I stood dazed on the sidewalk as the SUV drove away.
What was that about, anyway?
Her comments replayed in my head the entire way to the restaurant. What would make a random woman say that? How did she get to know Kyle?
Kyle was asleep when I arrived home that evening.
My thoughts were racing as I sat at the kitchen table and stared at the clock. I wasn’t comfortable with that interaction for some reason.
The following morning, Kyle picked up his typical luggage and gave me a quick peck on the cheek before leaving.
He said, “I’ll be back around three.” “Today, I have two procedures. It’s nighttime for the other one.
At night, I inquired.
“Yes, my therapist has a special appointment set for today.”
I forced a smile and responded, “Okay.” “Be careful.”
I immediately went to his laptop when he departed. I accessed his banking app with trembling hands. I assured myself that I wasn’t spying. All I needed was mental calm.
However, I felt sick to my stomach as I browsed over the transactions.
Payments to medical facilities were nonexistent. No hospital fees. No medical fees. Nothing.
Rather, I saw bills for restaurants, subscriptions to golf clubs, pricey clothes stores, and even a fee for a weekend getaway to a place I had never heard of.
What on earth?
In the hopes of missing something, I sped up my scrolling. But everything was in black and white.
Treatments were not being paid for by Kyle. He was buying luxuries with our money. things we didn’t talk about. things that I never approved of.
I was shaking by the time I shut off the laptop. What I was seeing was unbelievable.
I made the decision to accompany him as he departed for his “special session” later that night.
My heart was racing with each stride, so I kept a safe distance behind.
Kyle, however, did not visit a clinic or a hospital.
He visited a tiny tavern in the city center. It was the type of place where people went to decompress and rest.
I was motionless as I watched Kyle and his companions joke and laugh outside that tavern. I thought I was observing a complete stranger. The sick, struggling husband I believed I knew was not the man inside.
He was a completely different person.
I inhaled deeply and moved toward the window in time to hear him say something.
Raise your glass, Kyle replied, “I told you I could do nothing for three months.” “And you were mistaken!”
His companions clinked their drinks together and started giggling.
One of them remarked, “Man, I still can’t believe you pulled this off.” “Your wife actually purchased it?”
Leaning back in his chair, Kyle laughed. “Sinker, line, and hook.” I informed her that I was too ill to work. I have more time than ever to spend with you all now.
While my heart broke into pieces, they laughed loudly and carelessly once more.
Another acquaintance shook his head in shock and said, “And she’s still giving you money?”
“Yes.” With a smug expression, Kyle took a sip of his wine. To make sure I’m covered, she even took a part-time job. There are benefits to being married to someone so naive, I must admit.
I felt his words pierce me like a knife. I kept thinking about him sitting at home while he lived it up with his friends and watched me run from job to job.
It was more than I could handle. Tears clouded my vision as I turned around and left.
I observed the identical white SUV outside the pub just as I was ready to leave for home. When she noticed me, the previous woman rolled down her window.
“Did you witness it?” she inquired quietly.
Unable to say, I nodded.
She let out a sigh. “I apologize that you had to learn this way. One of his friends is my boyfriend. When I learned of their actions… I couldn’t keep quiet. You were entitled to know.
I wiped my tears and tried to gather my thoughts. “I’m grateful.”
I didn’t say anything to Kyle that evening.
I listened to his typical tales of “difficult procedures” and “promising results” while I ate dinner.
But I did something the following morning.
I informed his workplace over the phone that he was well enough to resume work.
I then proceeded to the bank and placed our joint account on hold. I opened a new account in my name and used the remaining funds to pay off our mortgage.
After finishing, I texted Kyle.
“Treat your cruelty and your vanity, Kyle—that’s your true illness,” it said. There’s no use in returning home.
After that, I gathered my belongings, unlocked the front door, and brought the boys to my parents’ house. Kyle’s face was the last thing I wanted to see.
For weeks, he tried to call me, but I never spoke with him. In order to get rid of the man who deceived me in a way I never could have predicted, I instead filed for divorce and am currently awaiting its processing.
