Mark and I had been married for seven years, and for most of that time, I believed our life was nearly perfect. We had a beautiful daughter, Sophie, I worked from home as a graphic designer, and Mark was thriving in his corporate career. His promotion party was meant to celebrate all of that.
Instead, it ended our marriage.
Sophie and I attended together, proud and excited, unaware that a child’s honesty would expose everything. While I chatted with a colleague’s wife, Sophie tugged on my sleeve and pointed toward a woman at the bar.
“Mommy, look,” she said loudly. “That’s the lady with the worms.”
Confused, I asked what she meant. She calmly explained she’d seen “red worms” on that woman’s bed. The woman was Tina—Mark’s coworker I’d noticed more than once.
When I confronted Mark later, his explanation unraveled instantly. He claimed Sophie had mistaken hair curlers during a quick visit to Tina’s apartment. But his nervous laughter and shifting eyes told the truth before his words failed.
The next day, I met Tina for coffee. She didn’t deny it. She confirmed the affair and casually mentioned she expected Mark to leave me.
In that moment, heartbreak turned into clarity. The marriage I thought was solid had already fallen apart—I just hadn’t seen it yet.
I filed for divorce, focused on protecting Sophie, and rebuilt our life. One night, she curled beside me and whispered, “I’m glad we have no worms.” I smiled, realizing we were finally free.
