The Secret My Husband Kept From Myself And Our Nine Children — 'My 22-Year Marriage Was A Sham'
It was hard to grasp this version of him compared with the opinionated, hard-working immigrant I’d fallen in love with 22 years ago.
Mike Marchetti | Canva It was 8:30 at night — it seemed like my husband’s work hours were stretching longer and longer. Taking in a long, deep breath I bit the inside of my cheek. Frustrated with his ongoing lack of presence, I pulled out my phone to call him, wanting to know why he still wasn’t home.
It was two days before Thanksgiving, the icy wind whipped around me and I silently wondered how anyone could enjoy Minnesota winters. Our German Shepard trotted along in his ever-eager way, oblivious to the cold as we looped around the frozen lake.
My husband answered, annoyed I was checking up on him, and cut off my questions before I could begin. Cold and emotionless he said, “You know what?”
I waited, but he said nothing. His music played in the background. He hadn’t hung up. “Hello?”
“Yeah. You know what? I’ve decided we’re not going to be together anymore. We’re getting a divorce.”
Wide-eyed, my mouth dropped half-open. He’d never said anything like that before. I couldn’t comprehend what was happening. The hip-hop music in the background struck me as odd — it was something from way back when we were young.
He hung up fast — saying now was not the time to talk — later. My heart pounded in my chest. Later? But it was the right time to tell me he wanted a divorce with no further explanation?
When I got back home, I found him sprawled out, captivated with a Mexican telenovela, his gaze devouring a curvy Latina. He was smiling, laughing at her empty jokes. He didn’t have a care in the world.
I choked back the tears and slowly climbed the stairs. Our kid’s laughter rang in my ears. They were oblivious to the bomb he’d just dropped.
The Beginning Of The Lie
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Eventually, he threw open our bedroom door. He sneered while looking me up and down. It was hard to grasp this version of him compared with the opinionated, hard-working immigrant I’d fallen in love with 22 years ago.
He’d wanted a big family, like his, and promised to give them — us — a better life. He wasn’t afraid to work and was willing to do whatever it took. But somewhere along the way, money and status became his obsession.
Nine children later, we’d finally made it to a place where I thought life was settling down. We’d just purchased a beautiful home, and our youngest was over five. Finally, no more sleepless nights. I was ready for a new chapter, filled with bike rides, hikes, and all the things pregnancy made challenging.
But instead of a new beginning, we were facing an end. My husband’s nose wrinkled and his lip curled up as he stared me down.
“Don’t make this a big deal. People get divorced all the time. There’s no reason to be sad. It’s a contract, that’s all. And to be honest, I don’t think I ever loved you. I should’ve left you right in the beginning,” he stated without emotion.
My vision blurred as tears welled up in my eyes. The words pierced my heart like ice. How could he say that after everything we’d been through? I lowered my head.
He started laughing and flapped his hand. “The world isn’t ending. Just look outside at the moon. It’s a beautiful night. There are so many reasons to smile.” He plopped down onto the far side of our bed and started practicing his Portuguese lesson of the day.
Narrowing his eyes, he glared at me, “Enough with your emotions, don’t be so weak. This is your fault you know. You should have done more to keep me,” he scoffed.
I lay down and curled up in a fetal position on the far side of our bed. The cold sheets offered no comfort against the chill that had seeped into my bones. A knot tightened in my stomach, and a wave of nausea washed over me. Sleep never came.
Living A Lie
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In the morning, I shook him awake. “Tell me, why are you doing this? What’s going on? Is there somebody else? Please, be honest.” My voice was trembling with urgency. He set his chin and looked me in the eye, a chilling silence hanging in the air.
“Listen, here’s what’s going to happen, he callously explained. “We’re not getting divorced right now, I’ll let you know when I’m ready. We’re not telling the kids — or anyone else. This is our business and nobody needs to know.”
“What do you mean not tell the kids?”
“Listen to me,” his voice raised and nostrils flared. “When I’m ready I’ll print the divorce papers from the Internet. Then, you’re going to sign that I’m not responsible for paying you. We don’t need lawyers or courts involved. I’ll give you what you need to take care of the kids and that’s it. You’re perfectly capable of working. I don’t owe you anything.”
“Are you kidding me?” I slowly shook my head, my eyes widening.
“Listen, he shouted while putting his hand up. “Don’t make this hard, use your logic. All I want is for you to sign when I say — you’re not getting any of that alimony crap and the business, it’s mine. This is an easy divorce.”
He picked up his phone from the nightstand and smiled as he scrolled. “And don’t you be telling the kids anything, just let them enjoy their life and be kids.”
I shook my head back and forth, unable to comprehend his words. “When do you plan on telling them then?”
He paused scrolling. “Once I move out and you sign the papers. I want to buy my own house and save up some more money.”
“Wait. So you think the time to tell them is when you’re leaving? Are you kidding? And there’s no way I can live here with you like nothing is wrong.”
I looked him in the eye and pressed my lips firmly together.
“Well, that’s what it is, I’m not interested in working it out.” He shrugged me off as he got out of bed and walked out of our room with his phone.
A few long months passed, and I still wasn’t willing to sign his printed papers. I wanted an attorney to protect the kids and myself.
The Unraveling
Life continued in the strangest of ways. I was still in denial, hoping he’d go back to the person he once was. There had to be someone else. But how? I spent hours and hours searching for clues.
I couldn’t find anything. Not in the phone, his pockets, or notes. I didn’t smell perfume. He was running a business; he could come and go as he wanted, but we’d always sworn to be honest with each other if there was someone else.
Were those just empty words? The signs were all there, but I still wasn’t willing or able to see them.
Secretive phone calls, designer jeans, slicked-back hair, shirt buttons left intentionally undone — accentuating his grey chest hairs, and of course the little red sports car. He’d never cared much about appearances before. And then there was his sudden relentless interest in Portuguese.
The days flew by and I reluctantly settled into his new normal. I dug a deep hole of shame and took on his blame. I just wanted us to go back to okay, for the sake of so many things but especially our family.
But with each passing day, he became more detached. Denial is a funny thing. You don’t necessarily know you’re in it at the time, but in hindsight, you realize it should’ve been so easy to see. Acceptance has its own timeline, though.
The Illusions
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I’d believed in this man through and through. He was one of the good ones, or so I thought. He valued family, honor, and integrity. His word was made complete with a handshake, which meant more to him than any contract.
He believed in right and wrong. We were all held to a higher standard — it was important to always do our best. He instilled the value of integrity and honesty in our children. He often said, “A tree that grows crooked will never straighten.”
Our family had always been his pride and joy. But now, everything was unraveling.
He became obsessed with his looks and declared he was one of the best-looking people he knew. He filled his closet with expensive clothes and shoes. Money was made to be spent and it was for the best of the best. We overheard him confirming a three-week trip to Cancun. When confronted he claimed it was with three male business acquaintances.
Vacations were always together, as a family. With each passing day, he became someone I could no longer recognize.
The Mask Slips
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His behavior became increasingly erratic. His phone was glued to his hand, and he’d often leave the room to take calls or leave in his car.
He’d disappear without any explanation — he’d never done anything like that before. Then, out of nowhere, he’d buy me expensive gifts without reason.
He was kind and considerate again one day, giving me hope we might be okay. Perhaps this was a midlife crisis we could get through? But then he’d push me away and demean me the next day — criticizing everything from my age to my parenting.
I felt stuck in uncertainty; trapped in a nightmare. I knew I couldn’t continue this way. Despite my attempts to confront him, he’d simply deflect. He insisted I was acting crazy, jealous, and insecure.
“You’re paranoid,” he’d say, “there’s nobody else, I just don’t want to have to be married to you anymore.”
The constant denial made me doubt myself, I felt trapped and so very alone.
Living A Double Life
He insisted on maintaining the illusion of normalcy to everyone; like nothing was wrong. We attended family gatherings, hosted holiday dinners, and even went on vacations together — all while he secretly hid his affairs.
I somehow pretended everything was okay while silently falling apart inside. The heaviness was crushing, but I felt powerless to do anything. I didn’t know how I could fix this. And I’d quit talking to most of my friends and family.
I felt so much shame like I’d failed everyone. During that last year, he was a lustful teenage hopeful with a wandering eye. Devouring every curve and bare inch of skin he could find. The fruits were no longer forbidden in his mind — he cared only about satisfying inner desires. But I still thought I needed to try to save us and our family.
The Crumbling Facade
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As we came up on a year, the strain became unbearable. I realized there was nothing left to save.
He wasn’t the same man I once knew. Our marriage was no longer healthy; it was more harmful to stay. He became someone I no longer trusted. Even though I still didn’t know about the affairs, I found an attorney and filed for divorce.
It was painful but necessary. I took an extended road trip with the kids while he was served. It was a horrifying experience I’d never wish on anyone.
Unmasking The Truth
The divorce process was brutal, and to this day, the fallout continues to be an uphill battle in most ways. A few months after he moved out, his affair was finally revealed to me in the form of finding a photo from his three-week trip to Cancun.
I finally had evidence — validation I wasn’t crazy — there was another woman. Or women — I’ll probably never fully know. They were at our timeshare. The photo was of a tall curvy Latina posing with the same parrot I once held — that our kids held — at the Cancun resort.
We’d taken turns holding the exotic bird while we smiled for our family photo. What had I missed? I thought I’d affair-proofed our marriage. I thought our bond was unbreakable.
How could he let her hold our parrot? Let her smile for the same photographer we talked endlessly with. How could he let her replace me?
The affair was no longer a suspicion; it was a reality. And it was happening right under my nose while raising our children, running our home, and trying to hold our family together.
Had he ever loved me? Were all those years together just a facade?
I felt like such a fool. Slowly, realizations of unvarnished truth began sinking in. This marked the end of us for me — even more so than the divorce papers. I felt betrayed in the deepest way possible.
Bittersweet Endings
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As much as I didn’t want to know, I needed to know. And as much as it hurt, it would allow for closure. Sitting in uncertainty isn’t a way to live. Now I finally knew who he was.
It would take my heart some time to catch up, but learning the truth gave me a way forward. At least now, I knew how our story ended; there was no more looking back.
I wasn’t going to let his actions destroy my life. I was going to fight for my children, myself, and for the future we deserved.
Picking Up Pieces
The pain of my husband’s betrayal was excruciating, but it was also a catalyst for profound personal growth. For years, I trusted him, ignoring my gut feelings, and choosing to believe the words he spoke instead of the actions he took.
I discovered a strength within myself I’d forgotten existed. The strength to protect my children and rebuild my life — on my own terms. It wasn’t easy, but I found a way to turn my pain into purpose.
The path to healing isn’t easy, but so very possible. By prioritizing yourself and taking the necessary steps to protect yourself, you can emerge from betrayal stronger and more resilient than ever before.
Julie Gaeta is a holistic health coach, yoga instructor, writer, and wellness enthusiast. She writes about relationships, nutrition, and pursuing growth.