My Wife Cheated, But I got fucked

Please complete the required fields.
Thank you for taking the time to report this Report submission to the webmaster. Please let us know why you are choosing to report this Report submission and then click the submit button at the bottom of the page



It was about thirty minutes earlier than I usually got home, but my boss and I both ducked out early on that Friday.

An SUV I didn’t remember seeing before was backing out of my driveway as I turned into it. Carol, my wife was in the front passenger seat. The rear passenger window opened and my ten-year-old daughter Cheryl’s head appeared. I opened my window, smiled and waved at her. But instead of her returning the smile and wave, I heard “We hate you!” as the SUV headed down the street. Somewhat taken aback, I wondered what brought that on. Oh, well, I’d find out when they returned. I pulled into the garage, got out of my car and went in the house.

Carol and I had been married for 12 years. It was her second marriage. Her first lasted only two years and ended when she walked in and found her husband cheating … in their house.

It was my first marriage and I was not a cheater.

When I talked to her earlier in the day, Carol had mentioned needing a couple of things, so when I saw them leaving, I assumed they were going shopping. I also assumed that one of her friends was driving.

I went to the kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge, went to the living room, sat, turned on the TV, sipped my beer and relaxed.

I finished my beer, looked at my watch and figured I had time for a shower before the girls got home.

After showering, I went to our walk-in closet to get some clean clothes.

I put on a pair of jeans and went to the den to watch some more TV. I sat in front of it for several minutes but couldn’t focus. Something was wrong but I didn’t know what it was. I went back to the bedroom and looked around. Noticed nothing. To the bathroom; noticed nothing so started out. Stopped. Looked around again. Carol’s bathrobe wasn’t hanging on the back of the door. Must be in the laundry. Started out. Stopped. Where was all the makeup and girly stuff on her side of the counter? Shook my head. Walked out. Looked around the bedroom. Nothing amiss. Went to the closet. That’s it. Most of her clothes were missing. I never noticed it when I was in there before. I just stared at the empty clothing rods. I literally backed out of the closet and went to our shared dresser and opened the drawers on her side. All empty.

I almost ran to Cheryl’s room. Virtually all of her stuff was gone; clothes, toys, even her bedding.

Now in a panic, I went through the rest of the house. A couple small porcelain statues, an antique clock, and three oil paintings were missing. On the kitchen counter, unnoticed before, were her keys, phone and credit cards.

I picked up her phone and opened it. Nothing. Everything that could be erased had been. Checked our computer. It was gone. Checked the desk. Opened the safe. Jewelry gone. My birth certificate, Social Security Card, some documents from my parents’ estate, my few rings and watches, and some jewelry which had belonged to my mother were there. Marriage License, ripped to shreds. There were also the documents pertaining to our house. On top of them was a note in Carol’s handwriting, ‘It’s all yours.’ The note was paper clipped to a Power of Attorney (POA) for selling the house.

What had she done? And why?

I went back to the bathroom where I had left my phone while I showered. I opened it. All my stuff was still there. Tried to log in to our investment accounts … no luck. Tried to log in to our bank accounts … no luck; credit cards the same thing. All the passwords had apparently been changed.

I called her parents to see if they could shed any light.

“Hello,” answered her father.

“Have you heard from Carol?”

“Of course.”

“Where is she?”

“We don’t know. All we know is that you turned out to be another no-good piece of shit and will never see her or Cheryl again. She couldn’t stan to face the humiliation of another divorce, so she took Cheryl and left.

“Why? What’s going on?” I was in a daze and my mind couldn’t absorb what was happening.

“You know good and well ‘what’s going on.’ Don’t ever call here again.”

I stood looking at my phone before I put it down. Then back to the office and frantically searched through every piece of paper in, on, and around the desk. I even dumped the paper shredder to see if there were any unshredded hints there. By midnight, I had still found nothing. Sunrise found me going through all of the papers for the third, fifth, or tenth time … I’m not really sure how many times I combed through them. Or the closet. Or the attic. Or the garage. Or her car.

Please follow and like us:
4.2 10 votes
Story Rating
Pages ( 1 of 13 ): 1 23 ... 13Next »
Subscribe
Notify of
1 Comment
Most Voted
Newest Oldest
Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
1
0
Would love your thoughts, please comment.x
()
x