My name is Margaret, and I am 61 years old. Until just three weeks ago, I believed my husband, Robert, was the only man in the world who would never cheat on me.
We had been married for 35 years. Together, we raised two wonderful children and were blessed with three grandchildren. We had survived financial difficulties, family tragedies, and many challenging moments.
I was convinced that nothing could destroy our marriage.
But one Thursday afternoon, everything changed.
Lately, Robert had often complained of severe fatigue and feeling unwell. After several examinations, his doctor ordered additional tests to determine the cause of his symptoms.
That day, I was preparing dinner when the front door suddenly slammed so loudly that I jumped.
Robert walked into the kitchen. He was pale, and his hands were trembling.
He didn’t even greet me. Instead, he threw his medical records onto the table.
“Read this!” he shouted.
