The Son’s Birthday

On my son's fifth birthday, I found messages on my husband Davids phone about a hotel room with another woman. He called her baby, bought her jewelry, and promised a Disney trip after our party.
I confronted him. He admitted to cheating but swore we were his real family. After eight years of marriage, I couldnt ruin our sons birthday, so I pretended nothing happened.
Then a voice message played aloud: David, Im on the roof. Ill jump if you dont come now! He bolted for the door. I told him coldly, If you leave, were done. He froze, but didnt look back.

1
Unlocking Davids phone had been an accident.
But seeing the messages from a girl named Lily was not.
They stretched back to last March, a relentless, daily stream.
When it was windy, shed remind him to wear a jacket.
When it rained, shed share a picture of the new umbrella hed bought her.
On Valentines Day, shed sent a photo of herself wearing the necklace hed given her, shyly modeling a new piece of lingerie.
And then there was todays message, sent with a cute kitten emoji:
When is your sons party over? Ive already booked the hotel at Disney. We can leave tonight.

I scrolled through their so-called love story for half an hour and still hadn't reached the beginning.
The old me would have thrown this phone at his face, screamed "You bastard!" and walked out without a second thought.
But that was then. Now, weve been married for eight years, and today is our sons fifth birthday.
Both our families are here at the hotel, ready to celebrate. The party starts in less than an hour.
And this is the moment I find proof of his affair.
A thousand tiny needles pricked at my heart, a searing, relentless pain.
But I didnt have time to cry.
My five-year-old son was waiting for me in the living room. It was his day.
The minutes ticked by.
I went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face, fixed my hair, and then walked out to the living room. I called David, who was helping Tim open a new Lego set, into our bedroom.
I laid it all out for him.
I didn't ask him who she was.
I just asked him, "Tim is only five. What are you going to do?"
The smile vanished from David's face.
His hands trembled as he pulled out a cigarette, then another, and another, until the entire pack was empty.
He didn't move until our son knocked on the door, his small voice asking when we were leaving for the party.
That seemed to snap him out of his trance. His voice, hoarse from the smoke, was strained.
I admit it, I cheated. But you and Tim are my real family.
It will never happen again.
Right there, in front of me, he opened his messages, blocked her number, and deleted the chat history. As if he could erase it all like a bad dream.
I wiped my own tears, fixed my makeup, and opened the bedroom door with a smile plastered on my face.
He scrubbed a hand over his face, then hoisted Tim onto his shoulders and carried him out to the car.
As if nothing had ever happened.
It wasn't until eight o'clock that night, when the waiter rolled in the birthday cake and the lights dimmed for the candles, that the illusion shattered.
David's phone lit up, and a voice message played loud enough for the whole table to hear:
David, Im on the roof. If you dont come, Im going to jump!

2
The clatter of a bowl hitting the floor shattered the moment.
As David lunged to his feet, a tureen of steaming hot soup sloshed over the table, right onto our sons arm.
A piercing scream cut through the room, and everything descended into chaos.
My parents rushed to pour cold water on Tim's arm.
His grandparents were already in tears, trying to soothe his hysterical crying.
And David, the cause of it all, just stumbled back, a flicker of apology in his eyes before he turned and ran out of the room without a second thought.
His younger sister, Sarah, looked terrified, rushing to cover for him.
"Lily is she's one of his junior employees. Something awful happened with her family, she's not doing well. As her boss, he can't just ignore it... I'm sure he'll be right back."
Lily?
So she even knew the girl's name.
What else had she been hiding for him?
Sarah was five years younger than David. When I married him, she was just starting college. She used to follow me around, calling me her big sister, promising wed be best friends for life.
Now, that same girl couldn't even meet my eyes as she stammered, "Chloe, you and my brother have been married for so long You understand, right?"
My throat felt like it was clogged with stones, raw and aching.
I didn't answer her. I just reached out and pulled my son into my arms. "We're going to the hospital."
At the emergency room, the diagnosis came back: second-degree burns. Blisters of all sizes and angry red welts covered his entire arm. He had cried himself into exhaustion.
My parents were furious, their voices shaking with a mix of anger and heartbreak.
"This is insane! What kind of employee is more important than his own son? Tim is only five! Why should he have to suffer like this?"
David's parents were deeply ashamed, trying to comfort me while urging Sarah to call him.
"Get that worthless boy on the phone right now! My grandson is seriously hurt. He needs to be here!"
But for three hours, through five bags of IV fluids, David didn't answer a single call from any of us.
Instead, a friend request popped up on my phone.
[This is Lily. I'm pregnant.]

3
I accepted her request.
In the suffocating silence of the hospital room, her first message came through.
It was an ultrasound report. Thirteen weeks.
Doing the math, she would have conceived around the time Davids mother was in the hospital for back surgery.
Hed said he was too busy with work to help.
So I was the one who juggled taking care of a five-year-old Tim while running back and forth to the hospital.
The second message was a picture of a two-carat diamond ring.
It wasnt massive, but it wasn't cheap, either.
The design was one David had sketched himself.
Id found the drawing in his desk drawer right before our anniversary.
He told me it was a surprise he was designing for a friends proposal.
Before I could even open the third message, David finally showed up.
His clothes were disheveled, and the guilt in his eyes as he looked at me and Tim was impossible to hide.
Our parents quietly left the room, telling David to comfort our son and apologize to me properly.
David nodded and sat down, his hand hovering over Tims sweaty forehead. After a long silence, his voice came out, strained and heavy.
"She's pregnant."
My fingertips trembled.
"And?"
"She's so young. An abortion would be really hard on her body. I I think she should have the baby."
For a moment, I felt like my brain just shut down. I asked, my voice hollow, "What about Tim? What about our son? What happens to him?"
David looked startled, as if the thought had never crossed his mindor maybe it had, and he just didn't care.
"Tim is our legitimate son. Nothing will happen to him. He'll be fine."
The tears Id been holding back finally broke free, streaming down my face, washing away my makeup and revealing the broken mess underneath.
I didnt say anything. Instead, I opened the third message from Lily.
It was a picture of a crumpled piece of paper.
I could see the hospitals logo on the back; it looked like a blank prescription pad shed torn off a desk.
Scrawled all over the small sheet were lists of names.
[These are the names David picked out for our baby.]
As I stared at the list, Davids anxious voice filled the silence.
"Lily said she doesn't want status or money. Its just when its time to register the baby's birth certificate, she hopes I can temporarily divorce you"
I let his words sink in, a roaring sound filling my ears.
In such a short time, he had already planned out their entire future.
We had been in love for ten years, married for eight.
And it was all undone by an eight-month affair.
My eyelashes fluttered, sending a chill straight to my soul.
I looked at my son, asleep in the hospital bed, his little brow furrowed in pain even in his dreams.
Then I looked at Davidat his guilty, pleading, and ever-so-slightly impatient eyes.
And just like that, the storm inside me stilled.
I knew what I had to do.
I put down my phone and spoke softly. "David, we've been together for more than ten years now."
"I remember when you first asked me out. You were twenty years old, clueless about girls and romance. But you saved up for weeks to buy me a gift. That necklace was truly hideous, but it was from you."
"I remember our wedding day, how you panicked when you couldn't find my shoes, terrified you wouldn't be able to marry me."
"And when I was pregnant, you never missed a single doctor's appointment. When my feet swelled up so badly I couldn't sleep, youd get up without complaint, comforting me, massaging my legs, telling me you would only ever love me"
I paused, my gaze fixed on him. "David, tell me. Do you still love me?"
He couldn't, could he?
Otherwise, how could he have shattered our family so completely on our son's birthday?
His eyes reddened. His lips parted, then closed, over and over again.
Finally, only three words came out.
"We're family."
Family. Like a blow to the head.
It shocked me out of my memories and back into this cold, sterile reality.
I didn't say another word. I told him to leave the room.
Then I texted my best friend.
"Help me find a lawyer. I want a divorce."

4
Getting a divorce is never easy.
Especially when theres a child involved.
The moment I got the separation agreement, my parents got wind of it and rushed over to talk me out of it.
"He was wrong to let Tim get burned, Chloe, but he's still his father. Please, don't do anything rash."
Sarah showed up too, with my in-laws in tow.
"Chloe, I yelled at him yesterday, I really did. He knows he messed up. He even had me order a new birthday cake for Tim."
My mother-in-law chimed in. "Yes, he did! It arrived first thing this morning. It's still in the box."
Sarah placed the cake box on the coffee table and opened it.
The air in the room froze.
It was a gaudy, multi-tiered cake with "Happy 80th Birthday!" scrawled across it in bright pink frosting.
He hadn't even bothered to look at the picture before he ordered it.
A bitter, cynical laugh almost escaped my lips. I looked away and went back to packing my suitcase.
Sarah was on the verge of tears, stammering out excuses for him.
"The delivery guy must have mixed up the orders! My brother loves Tim so much, he would never"
The sound of a key in the front door cut her off. David was home.
And he was holding Lily's hand. In his other arm, he carried several bags overflowing with maternity and baby supplies.
The silence was absolute.
Every eye in the room was fixed on Lily's swollen belly.
Sarah's voice trembled. "What is she doing here?"
My mothers eyes filled with tears as she pulled Tim into a tight hug.
"Who is she?"
The question I hadnt asked, my mother asked for me.
David didn't answer. He let go of Lily and grabbed my suitcase.
"Where are you going?"
I wanted to give him a dignified smile, but I realized he didn't deserve it. My voice was flat.
"Somewhere my son and I belong."
His eyes widened in panic. "Just just for a little while, then? I'll come get you. We can"
"Ow!" Lily cried out, interrupting him. "David, my stomach hurts."
He instantly forgot about me, his face flooding with panic. He swept Lily up into his arms and started carrying her toward our bedroom.
"Daddy!"
Tims small voice cut through the tension. The white gauze on his arm was a glaring reminder of everything that had happened.
"Daddy, are you still going to celebrate my birthday with me?"
The childish innocence of his question stunned everyone into silence.
My father-in-law closed his eyes in defeat. Sarah turned away to hide her tears.
My dad picked up my suitcase. His voice was low and firm.
"Let's go, Chloe. We're going home."
Davids arms seemed to slacken around Lily.
"Wait!"
He pushed Lily away and stood in front of me and Tim.
"Lily has a doctor's appointment tomorrow. After its over, I'll come straight to your parents' house to pick you both up."
I stared at him, bewildered.
"You don't have to"
He cut me off, barreling ahead with his own plans.
"That villa we looked at in South Hills, the one you said you liked? I bought it. You and Tim can move in there."
"You always wanted a garden. I already had the property manager plant those pomegranate trees you love."
I frowned. "David, really, you don't"
"And Tim," he continued, his voice softening as his gaze fell on our son's bandaged arm. "I had my assistant contact a specialist. We have a consultation this weekend. I promise, he won't have a single scar"
"David."
I couldn't take it anymore. I cut him off, pulled the divorce papers and a pen from my bag, and signed my name right there in front of everyone.
"If you really want to make it up to me, then sign this. Now."
"Let's get a divorce."

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