His Ex-wife Betrayal

Damien’s phone vibrated against the desk, the screen showing an unknown number.

"Damien Webb speaking," he answered, moving away from his desk.

"Mr. Webb, this is Nurse Patricia from Memorial Hospital. Your wife was brought in a few hours ago. We need you here immediately."

Damien's stomach dropped. "My wife? What happened? Is she alright?"

"I can't discuss details over the phone, sir. Please come as soon as possible. There are also urgent matters regarding payment that need your attention."

The line went dead.

Damien grabbed his jacket and rushed past his supervisor without explanation. His hands shook as he fumbled with his car keys. Lisa had been perfectly fine that morning. She'd kissed him goodbye, reminded him about dinner with her parents on Saturday, and waved from their apartment window as he drove away.

Traffic crawled through downtown. Every red light felt like an eternity. Damien's mind raced through possibilities. An accident? A sudden illness? She was only twenty-eight and healthy. Nothing made sense.

He burst through the hospital's emergency entrance forty minutes later, sweat dampening his collar despite the autumn chill. The reception desk directed him to the third floor after he paid the initial deposit, which drained most of his checking account.

Dr. Jeff waited in a small consultation room, her expression professionally neutral. Damien sat down, his leg bouncing nervously.

"Mr. Webb, your wife is stable now. However, I need to discuss her condition with you." Dr. Jeff opened a manila folder. "The examination revealed significant internal trauma. Specifically, we found evidence of a ruptured ovarian cyst and severe vaginal tearing."

Damien blinked. "I don't understand. What caused that?"

"These injuries are consistent with aggressive sexual activity. Recent activity, within the past twenty-four hours." Dr. Jeff's voice remained clinical, but her eyes held sympathy. "I understand this might be difficult to hear, but you need to know that such trauma typically requires immediate intervention to prevent infection."

The room tilted. Damien gripped the chair's armrest. "That's impossible. We haven't been intimate in almost a month. Lisa said she was too tired from her new job."

Dr. Jeff said nothing, simply sliding the medical report across her desk.

Damien's vision tunneled as he read the technical terms. Each word confirmed what his brain refused to accept. His wife had been with someone else. While he worked overtime to afford the apartment she wanted, someone else had been in their bed.

"Can I see her?" His voice came out hollow.

"Room 312. But Mr. Webb, perhaps you should take a moment to process this first."

Damien stood, ignoring the advice. The hallway stretched endlessly before him. Other patients and visitors passed in a blur. He found the room and pushed through the door without knocking.

Lisa lay propped against white pillows, her face pale. When she saw him, her eyes widened.

"Damien? What are you doing here?" Her voice cracked with panic.

"The hospital called me. You're my wife." He stood at the foot of her bed, studying her face for something familiar. "Dr. Jeff told me everything."

"I can explain." Tears welled in her eyes. "It's not what you think."

"The medical evidence says otherwise." Damien pulled the report from his pocket. "Who is he?"

"There is no 'he.' You're being paranoid." Lisa's shock transformed into defensive anger. "This is exactly why our marriage is failing. You're never home, always working, and now you're accusing me of terrible things while I'm hospitalized?"

A nurse passing in the hallway slowed, curiosity evident on her face. Lisa's voice rose deliberately.

"I knew you resented me for wanting a better life! I'm lying here injured and you come in making accusations instead of showing concern!"

Other patients began peering through their doorways. Whispers spread through the ward. Damien felt dozens of eyes judging him, the supposedly callous husband who cared more about accusations than his wife's wellbeing.

"Lisa, stop this." Damien kept his voice low. "The evidence is right here."

He placed the medical report on her bedside table. Lisa glanced at it, and something flickered across her face. Recognition. Guilt. Then it vanished behind fresh tears.

"How could you be so cruel? After everything I've sacrificed for this marriage?" She turned her face away. "Just leave. I don't want to see you right now."

Damien's phone buzzed. Their daughter Emma's name flashed on the screen. He glanced at Lisa one more time, then walked out without another word.

In the elevator, he answered the call. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Daddy! When are you coming home? You promised we would work on my science project tonight!"

Emma's cheerful voice cut through the fog in his mind. She was only seven, still innocent to the disaster unfolding around her.

"I'll be there soon, princess. Have you finished your homework?"

"Uh-huh! Mrs. Rodriguez said my essay was the best in class!"

"That's my girl." Damien forced enthusiasm into his voice. "I'll bring ice cream, okay? Your favorite."

"Chocolate chip cookie dough?"

"Is there any other kind?"

Emma giggled before hanging up. Damien leaned against the elevator wall as it descended. His reflection in the polished metal doors showed a man he barely recognized. Exhausted, betrayed, and lost. He kept asking himself what he had done wrong. 

The parking garage echoed with his footsteps. Damien sat in his car for several minutes before starting the engine. The drive home passed in a daze, his autopilot handling the familiar route while his mind replayed what just happened in the hospital.

Their apartment building came into view. Damien parked and grabbed the ice cream he had promised from the corner store. He climbed the three flights of stairs slowly, dreading what came next.

The apartment door swung open before he could turn his key. Emma stood there in her unicorn pajamas, grinning.

"Daddy!" She launched herself at him.

Damien caught her, holding tight. For a moment, nothing else mattered except the wrap of his daughter in his arms around his shoulder.

"Did you bring it?" Emma pulled back to look at his face.

"Would I forget?" He held up the ice cream container.

Emma cheered and ran toward the chair. Damien followed, trying to match her energy. They sat at the small dining table with bowls of ice cream between them.

"Where's Mommy?" Emma asked between bites.

"She had to stay late at work." The lie tasted bitter. "It's just us tonight."

"That's okay. I like when it's just us." Emma smiled, ice cream dotting her upper lip.

Damien's heart clenched. "Me too, princess."

"Oh! I almost forgot!" Emma jumped up and ran to her room, returning with a small box wrapped in glittery pink paper. "Happy birthday, Daddy!"

Damien stared at the gift. His birthday. He'd completely forgotten.

"Open it!" Emma bounced on her toes.

Inside was a hand-drawn card covered in hearts and stars. "To the Best Daddy in the World" was written in Emma's careful print. Beneath it lay a keychain with a small photo of the two of them at the zoo last summer.

"You made this yourself?".

"Yes! Do you like it?"

"I love it." He pulled Emma into another hug. "This is the best present ever."

Emma beamed. "Mommy's friend helped me wrap it. He said you'd really like it."

Damien froze. "Mommy's friend?"

"Yeah, the nice man who visits sometimes. He brings really cool presents." Emma didn't notice her father's expression changing. "He got me this!"

She held up a toy guitar with golden strings. Damien recognized the brand. It would probably cost more than he made in a week.

"What's his name?" Damien forced the words out calmly.

Emma shrugged. "I don't know. Mommy just calls him 'sweetie' or 'honey.' But he told me I could call him Uncle Derek if I wanted."

"When does he visit?"

"Lots of times when you're at work. He was here today before Mommy got sick." Emma's face fell. "Is Mommy okay? The ambulance people looked worried."

Damien's hands clenched into fists under the table. This man, this Derek, had been in his home and around his daughter. Buying her expensive gifts while he struggled to pay rent.

"Daddy? You're making a scary face."

Damien relaxed his expression immediately. "Sorry, princess. I'm just tired. Mommy's going to be fine."

But nothing was fine. The ice cream turned to ash in his mouth as Emma chattered about her day. 

After putting Emma to bed, Damien sat alone in the living room. The apartment felt different now, polluted by the knowledge of what had happened here. He looked at the furniture he'd assembled, the pictures on the walls documenting their life together. All of it was built on lies.

His phone buzzed with a text from Lisa: "We need to talk. Come back to the hospital."

Damien deleted the message without responding. Instead, he opened his laptop and searched for divorce attorneys. The consultations alone cost more than he could afford. He had maybe three thousand dollars in savings after paying the hospital deposit. Not nearly enough.

Another text from Lisa: "You're being childish. This isn't what you think."

Damien threw his phone across the room. It hit the couch cushion and bounced to the floor. He wanted to scream, to break something, to make the world understand the injustice of it all.

But Emma slept in the next room. So Damien sat in silence, watching headlights from passing cars paint shadows across the ceiling, and wondered how everything had fallen apart so completely.