I discovered my husband is on a dating site. I made a fake profile and flirted. He said, “My wife is dead.

I’m looking for love!” I fell apart but didn’t confront him, I decided to plan my divorce quietly. But days later, I froze when he came and said, “You will never believe what just happened.”

He was holding a manila envelope in his hand and had this almost terrified look on his face. I couldn’t even breathe properly.

For a second, I thought maybe he somehow found out I had made the fake profile. Maybe he had caught on. Maybe this was his twisted way of cornering me first.

Instead, he dropped the envelope on the table and sat down, still panting slightly. “Babe,” he said, “I got a letter…from someone claiming you’re cheating on me.”

My heart stopped. The irony almost knocked the breath out of me.

I blinked, unsure whether to laugh, cry, or flip the table over. I had planned to gather more evidence and leave silently, but now he was flipping the script. Accusing me?

I picked up the envelope with shaking hands. Inside was a printed screenshot of a conversation I’d had with him under the fake profile. The name on the profile was “Mira,” and he had been telling “Mira” how lonely he was.

How his wife had died in a car crash three years ago. The date of that supposed death? The same day as my birthday.

“I don’t understand,” I whispered, still trying to act surprised. “Why would someone do this to us?”

He rubbed his hands down his face. “I don’t know.

I’m sorry. I just—if someone’s trying to break us up, we need to be careful. You haven’t…talked to anyone online, have you?”

I shook my head.

“Of course not.”

He nodded and sighed heavily, then pulled me into a hug. I wanted to scream. That night, I barely slept.

I kept staring at the ceiling, my mind spinning. How dare he play victim. How dare he twist things.

But I realized something important—he was scared. He thought someone might expose him. That told me everything I needed to know.

The next day, I started making real moves. I quietly opened a new bank account and transferred small amounts of money into it every couple of days. I contacted a lawyer in secret, using a friend’s number.

I backed up all the screenshots and emails I had collected. Every “I miss you,” every “she died,” every moment of betrayal. Meanwhile, he was acting sweeter than ever.

He made dinner. He bought flowers. He even suggested we “renew our vows.” I smiled through it all, but every second made my skin crawl.

One evening, about three weeks later, I overheard a phone call he was having in the garage. He didn’t know I was behind the door. “Yeah, she has no clue.

I even showed her the envelope. She thinks someone is trying to ruin us. Dumb as a rock.”

I stepped back silently and went upstairs, shaking from head to toe.

But I wasn’t dumb. I was just patient. I timed everything perfectly.

I waited until he was away for a work trip and had all the locks changed. I moved my essentials into a storage unit and filed the divorce papers. He returned three days later to find himself locked out and served.

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