Betrayal and Redemption

This is a work of fiction and does not relate to actual events. While some authentic geographical points may appear, any person, building, event, company or descriptions thereof are completely fictitious. Issues such as proper birth control and STD prevention are incorporated without specific mention. No one under 18 engages in sex.

The internet is full of stories where a spouse cheats for months, sometimes years, before the other spouse discovers the deceit, leaves, and starts a new life. This story differs from the others in ways that become clear near the end. If the reader is looking for the classic "burn the bastard/bitch" story, you won't find it here.

In some scenes, information from prior parts will be repeated to bring other characters up to date. I've tried to minimize such sections. I've tried to police the continuity of dates, ages and events, but when a story is this long, some mistakes may creep in. The eight-part story is 46,000 words long.

While the story includes multiple partners through most of it, the overwhelming theme is the powerful love between the two main characters, how it falls apart and how they change and eventually reunite. That is why it will be put mostly under romance.

One note: On May 21, 2025, an author who uses the name ofpaulmastershad published on Literotica a story titled "The Hidden Room." It is one of the best and freshest approaches to a cheating spouse story I've read. A shout-out to that writer. I reached out to tell him of my intent to pattern the first part of my story after his. To my knowledge, the author has not responded. However, my story goes in a completely different direction.

Chapter 1: Saturday, March 10, 2012

Joe turned the corner and jogged along the last stretch of his two-mile run. Barely open buds on the trees, several patches of daffodils, and the steam rising from the pavement after an early morning shower invigorated his morning. The birds twittered their songs of greeting for the day.

One more corner and it was downhill for three houses before he came to their home. They purchased the 1928 Craftsman house two years ago after a foreclosure. Over that time, they made extensive improvements. They removed the old-style dark paneling from the living and dining room walls and painted all the rooms inside.

Once that was done, they tore up the faded and strained carpet, had the original red oak flooring refinished and carpeted the stairs and the upstairs. This past winter, they patched the concrete basement walls and painted the vertical walls white and the floor gray.

At nearly 30, they were right on their schedule established in college to start a family. First, pay down their school loans. Second, save funds for a house down payment. Third. Start a family. Their next step.

When he entered the house, the smell of coffee invaded his nostrils. The kitchen and living room glowed with the soft filtered light from the early morning sun. The rays spread over the table and down his wife's body. Small noises from the warming house popped and crackled now and then.

Casey hummed one of her favorite songs. Sometimes on Saturday mornings like this, he stopped in the doorway after his run and watched her dance to the music she hummed. She belonged in this house. They belonged in this house. It was perfect as a starter home. She wore one of his old band tee shirts as she sat sideways at the table. Her legs were bare, one leg crossed under herself.

He stopped inside the door and watched her as she looked at him with a vacant smile. Pure, almost white, blonde hair, with medium-sized breasts and legs toned by hours of exercise and jogging. As Joe walked toward the kitchen, passing her by, she reached up and let her hand trail across his hip. His body felt their connection. The memory of their lovemaking session last night made his cock swell.

He returned with his coffee and sat across from her at the small, secondhand circular table. She looked out the window, with the light from the sun dappling her face. She clutched the mug with both hands as if it were the anchor of her life. She took a long sip and turned toward her husband.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," he said. "You always can."

"Do you think we're doing okay? I mean, we're getting better. We're still on track with our plan to start a family this summer?"

"Yeah," he said. "Better than ever. Don't you agree?"

Last fall, they hit what they called a rough patch. Long hours at work, coupled with an urge to finish their projects before the summer, made them quibble over tiny things or go without speaking to each other for several days. But things improved over the six months. He believed his words.

His new position as a supervisor at the Network Operations Center for an internet service provider took up more of his time. The hospital where she worked faced a maddening shortfall of nurses, which required her to work four, sometimes five, 12-hour shifts per week. In both of their jobs, the demands let up after a few months and they started spending more time together, talking through their issues and adapting to their new schedules.

She changed to stare out the window and didn't answer for several minutes. They'd known each other since the seventh grade, and he could read her face well. Something in her body shifted. The mood changed, as if the sun had disappeared behind a cloud. He felt like a crack in a window let icy wind hit his back.

"Do you feel the same way?"

She didn't answer but continued to stare out the window. He felt like she was picking her next words the same way she decided on which pieces of candy to take from a bowl. Like she couldn't decide.

Finally, she nodded slightly. Almost as if she were responding to a question, she asked herself. Her eyes moved from the window and focused on the flowers she had placed in the vase yesterday on the table.

"I'm glad you feel that way. I've been trying to make things better."

Her voice trembled slightly. The tone and speaking pace made him think of someone stepping carefully on rocks as they crossed a stream. He reached his hand toward her. She did not respond. Both hands clutched the coffee cup as if it would grow wings and fly away. He left his hand, with the palm upright on the table in hopes she would take it.

"I've been working hard to make things better between us. Part of what has helped me," she paused, "is that I've been seeing a friend of Lisa and Michelle."

The words came out softly and carefully. She didn't change her face, but her eyes shifted, like shutters came down.

He blinked. Trying to understand her.

"They are lawyers. Why a lawyer? Or is she someone else? Maybe a therapist?"

He didn't grasp her meaning because he didn't think their issues were that bad.

Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she glanced at him before she turned away again. "Maybe one could think she is a therapist. In a way, she's helped me."

She shifted positions. The light from the window caught part of her face and highlighted her high cheekbones. The rest remained in the shadows.

"I've taken Lucy as a lover," she said.

The impact didn't sink in at first. Ashley and Michelle, lesbian attorneys, purchased the home next to theirs a year ago. Over the past year, Joe and Casey helped them learn how to keep up with the landscaping the previous owner put in. She had made her living as a professional landscape designer, and the property showed it.

Almost as an aside, like she wanted to soften the blow, she continued. "I needed something more. It's not romantic."

Her eyes met his. She said it again. Like she didn't believe he'd heard it the first time.

"After knowing each other for 16 years and being married for 7, I felt like something inside me went dead. This woke me up. I brought it back for us. I did it only for us to get along better."

The chill hit his back again. A roar echoed in his ears like the ones he heard at the Pacific Ocean beach they sometimes visited during winter storms.

"You could tell, couldn't you?" she said, looking him straight in the eyes. "How much happier I was, how much more involved I was with my life and with you." Her smile spread across her face as she spoke and her blue eyes sparkled.

Words failed him.

As she dropped her leg so both feet hit the floor, she put her hand in his. He could tell she wanted him to agree, to approve of her actions. She squeezed his hand. He didn't respond.

To him, the air grew heavier. Like an approaching storm.

"The past six months have been wonderful. I think we're getting along better. It came from being with Lucy and from me feeling alive again.

"I brought that home for us. I wanted to share the joy I found."

His brain froze and his heart went dead. She spoke of cheating on him as a benefit, like extra days off or pay for overtime.

"Joy?" he said as he blinked.

"Yes. And you have suffered no harm. Our lives are better than they were six months ago."

He didn't respond. He couldn't. But she must have seen Joe's face change. She changed her tone. Almost a plea.

"Please don't make this into something weird, something it isn't, Joe? It was a wonderful thing that I brought back to you. That was why I tried sleeping with a woman for the first time. So, I could make us better."

She kept speaking. Point by point, she talked about their sex life, their communication, how each of them was happier.

Each word sent spikes into his heart because the words weren't a lie. He had been happier. He wanted to start a family with the woman he loved, sometimes more than life itself.

But the joy he felt turned into dread. Rather than talk to him or to a therapist about her issues, she had gone behind his back and sought help from another woman. Help given not in words, but in actions.

He still couldn't move as his mind raced. The woman he had loved since he first saw her in the seventh grade still explained how fucking another woman made her a better wife. He could tell she believed her words.

Her tone shifted to pride as she talked. She had solved something on her own. "I did it for us."

The thing was, Joe believed she did it for them. She meant every word she said. That made the pain deeper, stronger, and more poisonous.

It didn't matter if the poison was mixed in a sweet drink that tasted good. When the poison went to work, the person still died. The whole point of being married was to face issues together, not to have one person change directions without talking first. Certainly not having sex with someone else without permission.

Joe rose on wobbly legs and ran for the bathroom. He made it to the toilet before he threw up violently, the surge of acid stinging his throat. He could barely stand. His eyes burned the way they did after he looked at a screen for too long.

Her chair moved on the flooring. "Geez, Joe. Are you okay?" Her voice filled with panic.

She sounded anxious, as if she didn't understand. His reaction must have startled her, since she figured he would agree with her. The way he often did in the past when she voiced new ideas.

After scooping water from the faucet into his mouth and rinsing it, he turned to her as she stood in the doorway.

"I'm leaving after I change clothes. I need space to think."

"Why?" she cried. She refused to move at first.

"Give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts," he said as he left the bathroom and ascended the stairs. He came down five minutes later, wearing slacks, a shirt and a light jacket. He carried his duffel bag that he took to the gym.

"Why are you leaving? I don't understand. I did this for us, not for me."

His voice deepened and his words came out slow and flat. "I need to figure out who is crazier. You, for thinking sleeping with another person is okay without telling me. Or me, for thinking I was the reason you felt better."

His phone started beeping even before he reached his car on the pad in front of their house. Once inside, he powered it off before he started the ignition.

Instead of driving to his sister's house, he pulled over to the side of the road, turned his phone back on, and texted her. Please ignore Casey until we can talk.

He drove to a park along the river and walked. When he felt tired enough to stop, he sat on a bench along the path.

After making sure no one was close, Joe repeated the words she spoke softly at first, like he couldn't believe them. Time after time. Each instance became louder and louder until he screamed at the top of his lungs.

"I needed something more. It's not romantic.

"It came from being with Lucy and from me feeling alive again.

"I brought that home for us. I wanted to share the joy I found."

"Share the joy."

"Share the joy."

As if he were solely at fault, and she found the solution after he refused to take part. He felt the opposite. He had been trying, but instead of joining him, she went off on her own and took a lover.

Ironically, they frequently dated other people during their first two years in college because they didn't want each other to be their only sexual partner. In their discussions, they asked each other if they wanted to try having sex with someone of the same gender. They each said no.

He screamed. A guttural, rasping, primal scream of pain that began in his inner soul and encompassed his entire body. His body shook when he finished and he plopped back on the bench in exhaustion.

The sound echoed off the nearby trees. An approaching couple walking along the paved path hesitated until he waved them on.

He lowered his voice. "She wasn't giving me something. She was trying to pull a fast one on me."

Noticing the skies growing darker, he headed for his car and drove to the closest restaurant that served breakfast. While in the restaurant, he wrote a list of questions.

When did she add an unknown person to her life? What did she think of the possibility of him finding out? Did it happen spontaneously or was it planned? Did she lie to him, telling him she was working when she was with Lucy? Did being with a woman matter more than being with him?

The questions weren't for Casey. They were to dampen the constant flow of thoughts in his brain colliding like bumper cars. He sometimes woke during the night, his mind full of problems at work. If he wrote out the problem and a solution that came from his subconscious, he could return to sleep.

After he finished, he drank another cup of coffee as his memory flooded. The times they slept on the floor on camping pads because they couldn't afford a bed for another two weeks.

The takeout one of them would grab as a special treat when work prevented them from making food at home. They would often sit cross-legged on the carpet and eat because they couldn't afford a table at first. The times they made love on the camping pads, desperate to crawl inside each other's skin and become one person. Her legs wrapped around him as they fucked, each gasp louder as she neared her orgasm.

With her words came the clarity that he falsely attributed to their issues because of work overload. The nights she turned her back to him before going to sleep. The times in the evening when she appeared to be elsewhere.

He had always figured it was work stress or hormones, a phase in her life. His mother had reminded him that sometimes women couldn't control their emotions, and he needed to stay strong and act as her anchor.

Looking back, other tiny things made sense. The times she responded "fine" with no strength when he asked how she was. The way she passed by him without a word. Or when she didn't take his hand like she did earlier today. The times he touched her in bed when he knew she was awake and she didn't respond.

More and more memories flooded back. The care she used with her cell phone. The new clothes he noticed in their closet that she never wore around him.

One night, she came home late, her skin flushed and wearing a little black dress he'd never seen. She brushed past his kiss, headed straight into the shower, and turned down his request to make love. She refused to explain the dress.

Or the night she came home in a red dress from a hospital Christmas party; her face burning with desire, her body reeking of the same perfume she always used, but stronger than normal. She pushed him against the hallway wall. They kissed as they did during the summer after high school. The sex on the carpet was quick, her mouth as hot as a wood stove, her hands eager and firm.

He remembered the laugh when it was over. "You woke something up in me." He knew now she had just come from being with Lucy. The betrayal sank deep into his core.

That was the problem. Her awakening came from someone else, not from him. All those times he accepted as a natural outcome of their problems and the struggle to work through them together were nothing more than fallout from her affair. He felt cheated and betrayed.

What might have occurred if he had requested she stop? Or if he demanded that he be included.

No, no. The betrayal ran too deep. It wasn't just the sex; it was the lying and the attitude this morning that her cheating helped him, brought him joy because she felt joy. Not possible. He felt like she had destroyed his love for her.

He turned on his phone, ignored the phone calls and messages, and sent two texts. The first one was to his sister who lived about 20 miles away. Please continue to ignore Casey. I'm half an hour away.

To his wife, he sent:I'll be home tonight at five. We can talk then.

After thinking for a few minutes, he dialed an old friend, Sam, who no longer lived in this area. His friend's parents went through a messy divorce when they lived here. A few minutes of conversation got the names of three attorneys who specialized in divorce. He had met one of them because his firm had offices in the same downtown tower as Joe's company.

His sister, Rose, was three years older and married to David, who worked in construction. During the slower times of the year, he purchased older homes, updated them and eventually rented them out. He and his brother had been doing that long enough so that Rose acted as the manager of their property management company and worked as a nurse in a migrant clinic part-time.

After he arrived, Joe explained what had happened in his conversation with Casey this morning. "I could see the change over the past few months," she said. "I'm shocked that she went outside the marriage like that. There are many therapists and marriage counselors who work in clinics near the hospital."

At Rose's house, he visited his mother for a short time without mentioning his issues. She was having one of her bad days with lupus and he didn't want her to worry.

He played video games with her two kids and used their desktop to go online and set an appointment with Frank Dewitt on Monday. He probably would meet with a junior attorney or a paralegal the first time, but that was okay. He helped Dave with a home project, ate lunch and used the computer again to go through their finances.

They had a joint savings account, individual IRAs and one joint IRA. Their job-related retirement accounts were simple and would stay under their control. He called the customer service number for their joint IRA and explained the circumstances.

"That happens sometimes," Karen said. "We can split the account however you want and set up separate accounts. Other than the service fees, there is no penalty. If you withdraw, there will be a 20 percent deduction for state and federal income taxes."

***

Showers fell in the afternoon and the grass on their front lawn sparkled when a few rays of the disappearing sun caught the drops on the grass. Dusk was less than an hour away.

Everything about the house looked the same, but different. The curtains, the faint coating of condensation on some windows. The original wood siding needed painting or replacement. But he felt different. It was no longer his. It was no longer theirs. He didn't know who it belonged to now, at least emotionally.