The wife and her lover called a taxi to secretly go to a cozy café on the outskirts of the city — a place where no one knew them, where they could just be two people hiding from the public eye. She was dressed neatly but tastefully, lightly made up, with a barely noticeable scent of expensive perfume trailing behind her like an invisible veil of her secret life. From time to time, she glanced quickly at her phone, checked the route, looked around — a feeling of anxiety would creep up, then recede again. Everything was going according to plan, but that was exactly what scared her: too smooth, too perfect for what was essentially a betrayal.
The taxi stopped at her house. She got out quickly, almost hurriedly, grabbing her handbag, and headed for the entrance as if someone might notice her or hear how fast her heart was pounding.
Meanwhile, her husband was sitting at home, following his usual evening routine. Over a cup of cooling coffee, he was scanning the news, gliding his eyes over the headlines when suddenly the sharp buzz of the intercom rang out. He frowned — he wasn’t expecting anyone. He opened the door without asking.
On the doorstep stood his old friend — the very one who had always been there, even when others disappeared. His face was serious, almost grim. The husband immediately understood: something had happened.
“What’s going on?” he asked, letting the friend inside.
“Well… I accidentally saw her last night. Not alone. With some man. They called a taxi; I decided to follow them. See for yourself,” the friend said, handing over the phone. “It’s all recorded here.”
The husband took the device, his gaze fixed on the screen. Taxi call. The service name matched the one he usually used himself. He scrolled down — the address. And then his heart suddenly clenched tightly. The address was his own. His house.
He clicked for details — photo of the driver, car number… and suddenly — a photo from the call. His wife. Next to the man. Together. Smiling. Without fear. Without regret.
But what caught his attention most was the phrase in the order note:
“Wife with lover” — written there plainly, black on white. Ironic. As if the driver had long known he was carrying not just a couple, but a couple with a secret.
Something inside him snapped. It felt like the delicate threads of his former life were tearing one by one, like a spiderweb in the wind. He felt cold slowly creeping up his spine. His breath grew short. His thoughts chaotic. He tried to pull himself together, but his confidence — the one that had held him steady for years — literally fell away.
He sat down. Closed his eyes. Tried to figure out what to do next. But his mind would not obey. Images flashed before his eyes — they were together, laughing, kissing. Where? When? Why? He felt a wave of pain growing inside him like never before. It was not just hurt. It was the collapse of an entire world.
His body seemed numb. His consciousness torn from reality and thrown into some abstract nightmare. He realized everything he had believed to be true was a lie. All those words, glances, embraces — now seemed like a mask she wore every day while he, the fool, believed in love, family, trust. The betrayal was not only in the act — it was in the entire game, in all the lies.
Tears welled up in his eyes by themselves. Not from weakness — from pain. Sharp, cutting pain. He hadn’t cried for years, but now nothing could hold back the flood. He felt his soul cracking at the seams. The ground beneath him literally gave way, and he was falling somewhere down, into an abyss with no visible exit.
Meanwhile, outside, the wife and her lover were getting out of the taxi. There was something new in their movements — not passion, not excitement, but rather a mixture of fatigue and acceptance. They knew: this was the end. The end of their meetings, their secrets, their affair. But neither of them expected this moment to be the beginning of something greater — the start of a chain of events that would turn not only their lives upside down but also the lives of those around them.
And in the apartment, behind closed doors, the husband was still sitting on the floor. He couldn’t get up. His legs refused to obey. His strength had left him, all his energy slipping through his fingers like water. He felt broken, torn apart. His heart was beating, but it was no longer the same. It had become different — wounded, sick, lost.
Then he understood: this was a turning point. A moment when everything changes. When you can no longer return to who you once were. He lost not only his wife. He lost faith in people, in relationships, in himself. His world had collapsed, leaving only emptiness in its place.
But even in this chaos, he knew: life goes on. Only now it would be completely different. Maybe bitter. Maybe lonely. Maybe — with new meanings that would have to be found long and painfully.
This day became the beginning of his new path. A path full of pain, but perhaps also of possibilities. Because sometimes you have to lose everything to understand who you really are.