How I Handled an Awkward Moment at My Husband’s Work Event

My breath hitched. My hands started to shake uncontrollably. This was it. The mistress. The confirmation of my worst fears. He was cheating. My vision blurred, tears stinging my eyes. The photos continued, a horrifying testament to a secret life I hadn’t known existed. Each click was a fresh stab.

Then I saw it. In the background of one of the photos, taken in front of that same quaint house, was a tiny, striped baby carrier. My stomach lurched. My mind refused to process it. I clicked to the next picture. And the next.

There she was, the redhead, holding a baby. A beautiful, tiny baby, no older than a few months. My husband was beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist, a look of pure, unadulterated adoration on his face as he gazed down at the infant.

A serious man looking straight ahead | Source: Pexels
A serious man looking straight ahead | Source: Pexels

HE HAD A CHILD.

My world shattered. Not just an affair. A family. He had a whole other family. The air left my lungs in a ragged gasp. I felt like I was drowning, unable to breathe, unable to move.

My eyes scrolled back to the image of the baby, the red-haired woman, and him. My husband. My brain was a whirlwind of images, trying to make sense of this devastating betrayal. Who was this woman? This baby?

Then, like a bolt of lightning, the truth struck me. A cold, hard, sickening realization that made me want to scream.

The baby. The photos of the baby. Its eyes. Its little nose. They were unmistakably familiar.

My blood ran cold. My hands flew to my mouth, stifling a choked sob. I clicked back to the first photo of the red-haired woman holding the baby. And then, I looked closer at the baby’s face.

I knew that face. I had seen it before.

An upset man | Source: Pexels
An upset man | Source: Pexels

My mind raced back to the company gala. To the woman with the intelligent eyes and the serene smile. The one who had approached me, said she was “glad I was there,” and used the word “both.” The one who had looked at me with that strange, knowing depth.

And now, looking at this baby’s face, a face I somehow already knew…

OH MY GOD.

The baby wasn’t the red-haired woman’s. The baby wasn’t a product of an affair.

THE BABY IN THE PHOTO… WAS THE WOMAN FROM THE GALA’S BABY.

She wasn’t his mistress. She wasn’t his ex. SHE WAS HIS FIRST WIFE. AND THE BABY… IS THEIRS.

The “awkward moment” at his work event. Her knowing smile. Her saying, “It means a lot to him. To have you both.”

She wasn’t referring to me and him as a couple. She was referring to me and her baby.

HE NEVER DIVORCED HER. HE HAD ANOTHER FAMILY. AND HE MARRIED ME WHILE HE WAS STILL MARRIED TO HER.

An upset woman | Source: Freepik
An upset woman | Source: Freepik

I wasn’t his wife.

I was the other woman.