Karma for the Cheater: Taking It All

Ten years together. And I was alone on an operating table, ending the pregnancy we'd spent years praying for.

That same day, he drove through the storm to go get another woman.

He bought her the riverfront condo. Two grand a square foot. The kind of place I grew up sure I'd never afford.

He took her up in the hot air balloon I'd always wanted to ride.

Outside the OR, my phone rang. Him.

"Nell. Wait for me. I'm almost there."

I asked him one thing.

"Right now. Are you afraid of losing me? Or afraid she's out there alone?"

He didn't answer.

Chapter 1

Ten years in, Weston had someone else.

The phone on the table lit up. Lit up again. Her.

[Her: Your tie doesn't go with that shirt at all. Next time let me pick for you.]

I gave him that tie. I gave him that shirt too.

It was our anniversary. He'd put on everything I'd ever bought him, all at once.

And she was offering to dress him better.

He's a name in this city now, which made the clash almost funny.

He'd said it himself once. "Anybody who says it looks off is just jealous I've got a good wife."

Was that so.

Was she jealous too?

Then another one came in.

[Her: By the way, do I look pretty today? Do you like it?]

Under the text, a photo. Half-covered, half not. Young. Pale skin.

And from the bathroom, Weston called out. "Babe! Grab me a towel!"

For one second I just stood there.

Then something cold slid down my cheek.

My thumb started shaking. I scrolled up.

He called her baby. He called her the love of his life.

All these years, Weston had grown up. Settled down. Gotten serious.

I'd thought he was done with those sticky little pet names.

Turns out he wasn't.

He just didn't say them to me anymore.

Weston came out grumbling. "Why are you ignoring me? I'm freezing in here. Let's see where you think you'll"

His eyes landed on my face. Dead white.

The words stopped.

He went quiet. Then, "Nell. It's not what you think."

"She's an intern. Just someone looking for a shortcut."

This day was always coming.

I stood up without a word and walked into the bedroom.

The truth is, there'd been signs for a long time.

I knew. I knew all of it.

A few years back, he came home drunk. His secretary walked him in.

He had "wife" on his lips the whole way.

But it was her hands that slid off his shoes, loosened his collar. Smooth. Practiced.

She called me "hon." Didn't bother hiding what was in her eyes.

I poured her a glass of water and showed her out. Polite about it.

That night I sat by the window.

My head was a mess. I couldn't sleep.

I knew there was nothing to it. Flirting, at most.

Somewhere in there, Weston woke up.

He's a smart man.

He noticed something was off with me and buried his face in my neck.

"Nell, trust me. After all these years, I know what lines not to cross."

Did I trust him?

I wanted to.

But suspicion is mold. It grows in the dark, fast, everywhere.

I couldn't stop it.

I was a little crazy back then.

Checking his calendar. Going through his phone. Picking a fight over nothing.

Until one day, he was done.

"I already let her go. What more do you want from me?"

His eyes were full of disappointment.

I froze.

I looked at the woman in the mirror and thought, stunned, is that me?

The one life had knocked flat a hundred times, who kept dragging herself back up?

That wrecked hair. That tight, braced face.

I covered my face and sobbed.

Weston pulled me in and murmured, "Nell. Just trust me. Okay?"

And after that, he really did seem to change.

He hired a male assistant.

He'd report his schedule before I even asked. Hand me his phone.

Even when I planted someone at the office to keep an eye on him, he looked the other way.

He really did.

Chapter 2

Have you ever split your life in half and handed one half to someone else?

I have.

Weston and I had known each other thirteen years.

Almost half my life with him in it.

Ten years together. Ten years holding each other up.

I gave him a chance.

And now the chance was used up.

We'd been married five years.

He used to say that once his career took off, he'd give me the big wedding I never got.

He'd let the whole world see it. That I was his wife. His one and only.

There was a light in his eyes when he said it.

He'd wanted that day as badly as I did. Once.

That day is never coming now.

And I'm sorry it isn't.

Weston stood outside the door, begging me to open it.

"Nell, let's talk. Really talk."

"Nell, please. Open the door."

"Nell, just say something to me."

He was scared I'd do something stupid. So he called a locksmith.

I opened the door myself, suitcase in hand, like it was nothing.

We'd had plenty of fights over the years.

Every time, he was the one who walked out.

This was the first time I decided to leave first.

"Let's end this," I said. "Before it gets ugly."

He didn't say anything.

He just grabbed my suitcase, like some deadbeat, and trailed after me.

Huge apartment. And only a few things in it I couldn't leave behind.

He wouldn't give the suitcase back, so I used trash bags.

I'd pack one thing. He'd snatch it out.

I got tired.

"Weston," I said. "Bring her by. Let me meet her."

"I want to see what kind of girl is worth throwing away all our years for."

Was it spite?

Some of it, probably.

Weston froze, his face coming apart.

He didn't get it either. Why I was so calm this time.

Maybe I'd saved up enough disappointment.

Maybe I'd seen this day coming for years.

"Don't, Nell. Don't torture me like this."

"Curse me. Hit me. Just don't do this to me."

The one doing the torturing. Was that me?

No. It wasn't.

People answer for what they do.

I smiled. "Shouldn't she come see the spoils of her win?"

His eyes went red.

"Nell, you're the one I love."

"I don't know what happened to me. Maybe it's that she's like you. When she digs her heels in, she's just like you used to be."

"So I'm not like me anymore?" I said, quiet.

He stopped. Nothing came out.

Middle of the night, I walked out with my trash bags.

Weston blocked my way. The pitiful act was gone now.

He pressed at his brow. "What is it you actually want? I said I was wrong. How long are you going to drag this out?"

How could he sound so righteous about it?

I looked at the man I'd loved for ten years and, for a second, had no idea what to say.

"You run the company's books. Everyone calls you the boss's wife. What more could you want?"

What more could I want.

He knew exactly what I wanted.

He said it almost like charity. "She and I were just a fling. She's no threat to your place. No matter what, you're my wife."

I didn't feel like saying anything else. I stepped around him and walked to the elevator.

His voice dropped, low and hard.

"Noelle. You walk out that door today, and I go get her tonight. I move her in."

Chapter 3

The threats he used to save for other people. Now he was aiming them at me.

I let out a small, bitter laugh. My voice came out calmer than I expected. "Do whatever you want."

He blinked.

Through the closing elevator doors, I watched his face fall. Nothing but disappointment on it.

He still thought I was the one throwing a fit.

I'd barely reached the hotel when a friend request lit up my phone. Cheyenne.

Her.

I accepted it. Neither of us typed a word.

The timing was too clean.

Did Weston tell her? That I'd found out she existed?

Look at that. I walk out the door, and he runs straight to her.

Thirteen years. And it turned out we were this easy to snap.

Her profile wasn't private.

I scrolled through it.

She'd put work in. Every photo was gorgeous.

And every photo had Weston in it.

He always told me he was traveling. Buried in work.

But he'd found the time. Disney, for the fireworks. Maui, for a hot air balloon ride.

She was showing me, without a single word, how happy they were.

In those photos, Weston was laughing. Really laughing.

He isn't young anymore. But there he was, grinning like a lovesick kid, loving her like it was the first time he'd ever loved anyone.

My chest went tight. Swollen.

A dull throb, over and over.

I used to be so sure of it. That even if the world flipped upside down, he'd keep loving me.

Did he still love me?

I couldn't say.

If he did, why go find someone else.

If he didn't, why go to all that trouble to hide it.

Maybe he was just being sentimental. Maybe he just didn't want the mess.

Cheyenne messaged first. Asked to meet.

I said yes.

At the caf, Cheyenne went on and on about how they met, how they fell in love.

It was all pretty standard.

Young girl, rich older man. The story writes itself.

She looked me dead in the eye, earnest. "Noelle, I really do love him. Please. Just let us be."

Like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. Like I was the villain tearing two lovers apart.

How was I supposed to explain it to her? That next to everything we'd clawed through together, their little history wasn't worth mentioning?

If she'd seen Weston at twenty, she probably wouldn't have looked twice.

I'm the one who built him into this. Taught him with my own two hands.

The Weston she knew. Soft-spoken, loaded, polished. Easy to fool a young girl with.

I stirred my coffee. "If you'd met Weston at twenty, dead broke, eating day-old bread out of the bakery dumpster, sleeping in a condemned apartment, would you still want him?"

She paused. Hesitated a second. Then, "I don't care. I love him now."

I shook my head and smiled. "When you get to where I am, there'll be girls just like you. Lined up. One after another."

She said it like it was carved in stone. "No. Weston will always love me."

So naive.

Then she put on this patient, big-hearted look.

"He doesn't love you anymore, hon. Stop holding on so tight."

"If this keeps going, all three of us suffer."

I asked her, "Did he tell you to say all that?"

Her eyes darted away.

I smiled. "Trading in your first wife the minute you make it big. That doesn't play well if it gets out. And Weston cares about his image."

"I've known him thirteen years, sweetheart. I know him better than you ever will."

Chapter 4

She went quiet. Then, "You drove here, didn't you? Give me a ride. I live over at the Waterfront Residences."

Ah. So that's where Weston had tucked her away.

"Wes told me you used to really want to live there. Didn't you?"

She'd won that round, and the smug little smile knew it.

That was six, seven years ago.

A client of ours lived there.

We were dropping him home, and while we stood in his living room, I glanced out the window.

A beautiful stretch of water.

At night it glowed. And across the river, a Ferris wheel turned, slow and easy, round and round.

I got lost in it for a second.

The client had had a few drinks. He didn't mince words. "Nice view, huh? You like it?"

I nodded, awkward.

"Two grand a square foot. You'd have to grind for years. Might not ever afford a place like this your whole life."

I was just a girl back then.

The sneer in his voice put tears in my eyes without any trouble at all.

Downstairs, Weston took my hand and swore to me. One day, he'd put me in a place like that.

Later he had money. He had pull.

He asked if I still wanted that riverfront condo.

The truth is, I did.

But it was too far from the office. I couldn't stand the thought of him waking half an hour earlier to make that drive, every single day.

So I shook my head. "This is fine. I'm getting older. I like things practical now. It's easier living on this side."

If I wasn't going to live there, plenty of other people would.

The one regret of my whole young life. He cupped it in his hands and handed it to another woman.

Funny, really.

Did it eat at me?

I suppose it did.

I planted the grapevine myself.

I watched over it every day. Fed it. Watered it.

Some days I worried it wasn't getting enough sun, that the grapes wouldn't grow.

Other days I worried the sun was too strong, that it would scorch them.

Careful like that. Anxious like that.

The same, day after day, for ten years.

And when the grapes finally ripened, someone else got there first.

All I was left holding was one dead, dry branch.

My fingers curled tight around it.

The truth is, I've been through a lot these past years. I've learned to keep my feelings on a short leash.

But the hurt, the unfairness, it closed around my throat like a huge hand.

Squeezing until I couldn't breathe.

I pressed it all down and said, as calm as I could manage, "Take a cab back. It's not on my way."

Then I all but fled.

In the car, a wave of nausea hit me out of nowhere.

I pulled over and threw up. Hard.

Doctor Abbott told me I was pregnant.

For a second, I thought I'd misheard him.

"Congratulations, Mrs. Lang."

Weston and I had tried so hard for this baby.

The doctor said no overexerting. No stress.

So I slowly stepped back from the company. Read books. Took up flower arranging. Kept things easy.

Someone told me herbal tonics helped. For fertility.

But my stomach was so sensitive, and the tonics reeked. After I drank them I'd lie awake all night, stomach turning.

So Weston stayed up patting my back, easing it out of me.

Later we tried IVF.

After the procedure, my face was bloodless.

In the end, it failed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at nothing out the window.

Weston's eyes went red.

I knew he was hurting as much as I was.

But he still soothed me, soft and low. "Nell, we don't have to have a kid. Having you is enough."

How does the world come up with irony this cruel?

I gave up on having a baby.

And then it came.

Chapter 5

Doctor Abbott had known us for years. Practically family.

He was genuinely happy for me. "Go tell Weston the good news, quick. After everything you two have been through, the hard times are finally paying off."

I sat there gripping the report, and I couldn't make myself smile.

I thought about it for a long time. In the end, I decided to tell Weston about the baby.

We agreed to meet at a little restaurant.

The place had been around for years.

The shops beside it had come and gone. The street didn't even look the same anymore.

Only this one still stood where it always had.

I remembered when we first landed in this city.

Broke. Not a dime to our name.

We'd order the cheapest plate and split it.

Weston was so good to me back then. He'd have shoved every piece of meat in his bowl into my mouth if he could.

We were good back then too.

One bite for you, one for me.

Never enough, of course.

The place had free soup refills. That was the whole reason we picked it.

We were both young. The kind of hungry only young people get.

Some refill or other, the girl at the register got annoyed. "You two have had, like, five bowls already."

Weston's hand jerked around his bowl.

His whole face went red in an instant.

But he still stepped in front of me.

He didn't want those looks landing on me.

He was stammering, trying to say something, when the owner saw us shrinking in our seats. He told us, "From now on, you two eat here. Pay for one, eat for two."

Weston never forgets a kindness.

Once the company was steady, he put a little money in and set the owner up to franchise.

His one condition: this restaurant stays exactly as it is.

On the surface, he said he was sentimental.

But I knew the truth. He was reminding himself. Never forget how hard the road had been.

But here's the thing. The restaurant didn't change. The man did.

By the time I got there, Weston had already ordered.

Same taste I remembered.

We weren't what we used to be. Back when we'd split a single piece of meat down the middle.

"Nell, you've lost weight." He put food on my plate. "Eat more."

His voice was so gentle. Like the fights, the betrayal, none of it had happened.

This peace between us was a lie.

And Cheyenne walked in and tore it to shreds.

"Weston, didn't you say you didn't love her anymore? So why are you sneaking around to see her?"

Weston's face darkened. He told her to leave.

Cheyenne just exploded.

"Let me spell it out for you. I'm already carrying his baby!"

"She's barren. She can't give him a kid. I can!"

Barren.

The word went in like a needle.

I'd come here today to tell Weston myself. That I was pregnant.

It was right there on my tongue. And her words shoved it back down.

I said nothing.

Weston's face twisted. He slapped her across the face, fast.

"What the hell did you just say? Apologize to Nell."

He hadn't cursed in years.

Cheyenne cupped her cheek, eyes brimming, glaring at us.

Stubborn and pitiful all at once.

Then she ran.

Outside, traffic everywhere, and she went straight into it. Didn't look. Didn't stop.

Horns, one after another.

Some driver yelled, "Crazy bitch! You trying to get yourself killed?!"

Weston's hand, flat on the table, closed tight. Tighter.

His eyes never left her. Not once.

Not until Cheyenne vanished into the crowd.

Only then did he look at me. "Nell, she's young. She's reckless. I'm scared she'll do something stupid."

"Go check on her," I said.

He was already moving. Didn't look back once.

His hurried shape cut through the crowd, after her, and then it was gone.

And I sat there. Alone at a table set for two.

Chapter 6

I took a sip of tea. Bitter enough to make me want to cry.

I thought back to when I was younger. I'd been pregnant once before.

We'd actually been careful. We didn't want a child then.

That baby came at the worst possible time.

Our careers were on the way up.

I couldn't leave Weston to face everything out there on his own.

But I knew him. He goes soft too easily.

If I told him, he'd waver. He'd beg me to keep it.

So I didn't tell him. I went to the clinic by myself.

I figured we were young. There'd be other babies.

I figured we were young. My body would bounce back fast.

But Weston caught on anyway.

Back then his whole world was me.

Something was off with me, and he knew it instantly.

I thought he'd yell. Ask why I hadn't talked to him first.

But he just cried.

Oh. Right. That was the first time I ever saw him cry.

The first time.

He's soft-hearted, but proud. The stubborn kind.

That day, though, he just sat there. Blank. Staring at nothing.

I didn't know what to do. I asked him to say something to me.

He said he was sorry.

"Nell, I'm sorry. It's my fault. I'm useless. I'm useless."

I told him no. "It just wasn't meant to be. Us and this baby."

That time, he knelt in front of me.

Said he'd give me a good life. Swore that one day, I'd never have to hurt like this again.

His eyes were so bright then.

His whole world, all of it, was me.

And it hit me. He did love me once. That was real.

He doesn't love me now. That's real too.

I went to the hospital alone.

It poured that day.

Outside the OR, a message came in from Cheyenne.

[Cheyenne: Want to make a bet, hon? Which one does he actually want. The one in my belly, or the one in yours.]

She sent a photo.

It was her. Standing alone on the highway in the rain