I EVICTED My Wife After Caught Her CHEATING During Girls' Night Out. Next Day She... Sad Audio Story

[Music] Growing up in a small town, life was predictable yet comforting. My father worked long hours at the factory, while my mother kept our modest home running like a well-oiled machine. From a young age, I learned the value of hard work and consistency. I remember my dad's pride when he bought his first car, a used 1970 Chevy Nova. Though it was old and weathered, the sparkle in his eye whenever he polished it showed me that sometimes material things could be symbols of dreams and ambitions. As I moved into my teenage years, cars became more

than just objects; they were symbols of freedom. My friends and I spent weekends tinkering with engines in dimly lit garages. We'd save every penny from part-time jobs to buy parts or take our barely functional cars for joy rides. Those nights were filled with the sound of revving engines and laughter, embedding in me a lifelong passion for automobiles. When I met Dana in college, life took a turn. She was everything I was: spontaneous, adventurous, and bold. She brought out a side of me I didn't know existed. We spent countless hours planning for a future filled with

shared dreams. Eventually, we got married and had Erica, our wonderful daughter. I thought I'd achieved the perfect balance of family life and personal passions. Despite the challenges, I cherished the quiet moments we built as a family, whether it was a late-night movie marathon with Erica or weekend car shows. I tried to create memories that would last. Life wasn't perfect, but in those moments, it felt close enough. Little did I know, cracks were beginning to form in the foundation we had so carefully built. Saturdays in the suburbs had their own rhythm, a familiar cadence that carried

us through the day. My routine began by driving Erica to swim practice, often swinging by to pick up her friend Kylie on the way. The girls had a packed schedule: group exercises, one-on-one coaching, and strength training sessions. Some lifted weights, while others tested their speed in time trials. When Erica was younger, she asked me to stop watching her practice because it made her nervous. "Go live your life, Dad," she'd say. Now I drop her off and go home to wash my car. I drive a 2013 Boss 302 Mustang, which I keep in pristine condition by

only using it in the summer. In the winter, I drive my other Mustang or Jeep, which handles rough weather better. While I washed the car, Dana did the weekly shopping. When she got home, we joked, and she teased me about fixing the bed. "You better remember the lube," I quipped. "I don't buy stuff for your Mustangs," she shot back, heading upstairs. A few moments later, she returned with her yoga mat, kissed me, and reminded me that the bed still needed fixing. "I know," I said, smiling at our playful dynamic. She rolled her eyes, put on

her sunglasses, and left for class. That's when I started to relax, enjoying a few hours to finish washing the car before a car show. Life felt perfect: great wife, wonderful daughter, a nearly paid-off house, and a thriving career. But then my phone buzzed. It was Nancy, frantic. "Eric, I can't reach Dana. Ronnie had a heart attack." I tried to stay calm. "Are you in the hospital?" "We’re in the ambulance," she sobbed. "Which hospital?" "C.C. Cedar Springs in Michigan." I took a deep breath. Heart attacks are serious, but not always fatal. "Stay calm. I'll get Dana

and head there." I kept washing the car as I spoke, finished, and jumped in my everyday Mustang to head to the yoga studio. Dana wasn't answering, and I knew the studio had a no phone policy. I pulled into the parking lot of Yoga Bear, a place I hated. Dana had been going more after I told her not to, and I didn't like seeing her with those young guys who made snide comments about my cars. I was frustrated but knew I couldn't control her. I stopped talking to her, even stopped sleeping with her, which got her

attention. She started teasing me: "The guys in your yoga class see more of me, right?" "They can't touch," she'd wink back. In the end, she won. After weeks of passive resistance, I gave in when she joined me in the shower. "Stop being like that," she said. "The only one this hurts is you." She continued yoga but cut back to two classes a week—Saturdays when we did family activities. The lack of closeness frustrated her. We often thought about it, and Erica would defend me: "But Dad loves these cars, and I love my dad," she'd say. Hearing

Erica stand up for me gave me a warm feeling. I love Dana, but I'd do anything for Erica—even carrying her to bed when she was too old for it. Later, the argument continued. Dana whispered, "Why are you such an a-hole? I put up with your running around." I muttered, "I put up with your obsession with Mustangs." She shot back, "It's not the same." "When I run, I'm alone. When I'm done, I go home." Dana raised her voice. "And with the cars, I always check with you before big purchases." I explained, "Even though it's my money,

everything is ours." She nodded but asked, "If everything's ours, why do you act like an idiot when I drive one of our cars?" "Because your car is dented and scratched," I muttered. "So you think I'll wreck our cars?" she teased. "I protect my body just like you protect the cars," she said. "Yoga keeps me in shape so you don't have an out-of-shape wife." "But why without clothes?" I asked. "It's not about the nudity," she replied. "I love this place and the people, but when you reject me, it makes me feel..." "Worthless," she added. We agreed

to think it over, but the issue lingered. Later, I showed up at the studio to pull Dana out of class. The receptionist, Indira, nodded as I explained, "She's in the office." The instructor, a bearded guy I called Jesus, told me Dana's getting one-on-one lessons with the guru. I felt irritation rise; the guru was a vegan, anti-car type I didn't want near my wife. "Keep this between us," he whispered. "Dana's struggling, so the guru is giving her extra lessons." I nodded and headed for the back. Just then, a message from my mother-in-law about my father-in-law's hospital

room came through. I opened the door to find Dana tangled in a yoga pose with the guru. My voice cut through the room, and Dana screamed in pain as he pushed too hard on her leg. "Hi, guys," I said coldly. They froze, and Dana screamed, "What's going on here?" I demanded. "This looks more like Zex than yoga!" "I swear you didn't see what you think you saw," the guru stammered. "Now you're quoting Will Smith," I said incredulously. Before he could backpedal, I punched him. He went down hard, spitting out teeth. Dana groaned, clutching her leg.

"I snapped. While you were cozying up with him, your dad had a heart attack!" Stunned, Dana asked if I was going to the hospital. "Remember when I bought my Mustang? You made me promise no promiscuous women would ever get in it. Well, guess you're not getting a ride now," I shot back. I turned to leave, the weight of the moment sinking in. Just moments ago, I was happily married; now everything was falling apart. On my way out, I ran into the yoga instructor and one of his disciples blocking my path. "Listen, Jesus," I said, keeping

calm, "if you don't move, I'll show you just how unpleasant this can get." The tattooed guy scoffed, so I grabbed his glasses and set them on the floor. He scrambled to find them, only to step on them and curse. "Move," I told the instructor, and he stepped aside as I left. Chaos erupted in the reception area; Indira was trying to calm an angry crowd demanding refunds. But I couldn't focus on anything but the storm in my mind. It took me 10 minutes to get to the hospital, another five to find my mother-in-law. She was barely

holding it together. "As soon as I hugged her, she broke down. 'They put a stent in one of his arteries,' she sobbed. 'Now he's going vegetarian. No more fried food, no snacks, no barbecue, nothing unhealthy.'" I squeezed her tightly, trying to smile. "Maybe wait until he's recovered before telling him that." "Why?" she asked, still crying. "It doesn't matter what he thinks," I replied. "He'll be fine." She looked confused, but when he finds out, he'll wish he never lived. "Where's Dana?" she asked, changing the subject. "She's at yoga," I said. "I came here after telling her

what happened. She'll be here soon." "You're a good son-in-law, Eric," she said, hugging me again. About half an hour later, the surgeon came in with good news. My father-in-law would recover with some diet changes and light exercise, but he'd need to stay off work for three weeks longer if his job was physically demanding. While my mother-in-law asked questions, I noticed the surgeon was an older, beautiful Indian woman I'd seen before, but I couldn't place her. After the surgeon left, we went up to the room. Ten minutes later, Dana was wheeled in, her leg propped up.

"Like Dad," she asked. "What happened to you?" my mother-in-law asked, shocked. Dana looked at me, pleading for help, then answered, "I pulled a muscle in yoga. Like Dad." My mother-in-law filled Dana in on her father's condition, but Dana kept staring at me. I needed to leave. "So how was the car show?" Dana asked. "I couldn't go," I said flatly. "Your mom called me, and some things are more important." "You always put family first," Dana said with a strained smile. "We can forgive anyone; things happen and we move on." "Dana, what are you talking about?" her

mother asked. "Eric knows your dad didn't have a heart attack to stop him from going to the car show," Dana continued, stumbling over her words. "No one owes anyone forgiveness." "You're not making sense," her mother said, frustrated. Dana looked embarrassed. I saw my chance to leave. "Dana, with your leg, you won't be able to pick up Erica from the mall. I should go," I said, relieved. "You two can pick me up later." "I think it's better if you go home with Mom," I suggested. "She shouldn't be alone." "I'll call you later." I hugged my mother-in-law

and left, the weight of everything sinking in. I drove to the mall, parked, and texted Erica to let me know when she was ready. In the car, I looked up divorce lawyers. The reality hit me: now my father-in-law and I were in the same boat—both happy earlier, now facing life-changing situations. His problems were physical; mine, emotional. He'd need to change his lifestyle to survive; I had to decide if I could look at Dana again—her smile, her face. How could I ever sleep with her again? She was no longer the woman I loved; she was a

problem to fix. I felt numb, like my heart had stopped. The phone rang. It was Dana. "Eric," she said regretfully. "I'm so sorry; please forgive me. It won't happen again." I stayed silent. Her breathing was heavy. "Dana, was this the first time?" I whispered. "Not really," she sobbed. "It's not even the first time with M." I didn't need more answers. "It means something, Dana," I said coldly. "It means the woman I married is a cheater, and this probably won't last." My heart raced, and pain shot through me. Through me like a punch to the stomach,

I struggled to breathe and felt nauseous. "What's wrong?" my mom asked. I didn't want her to know, and I didn't fully understand it myself. "Nothing, Mom," I lied. "Eric and I were just talking about how lucky we are that Dad is okay." Desperate, I called Erica. "What?" she answered sleepily. "That's not how you answer the phone, young lady," I scolded her. "Oh, hi, Mom," she mumbled. I was tired from swimming and walking around the mall. "Where's your father?" I asked, trying to stay calm. "Heun's outside washing his car," Erica replied. "He doesn't feel well. Can

you ask him to pick up the phone?" I asked my mom to talk to Eric, but she said, "You know how he is when he washes the car. I'll tell him to call you when he's done." She hung up, and I was furious. Eric had spoiled Erica so much; she did whatever she wanted without consequences. I waited for the phone to ring, but when I couldn't stand the pain anymore, I took some painkillers and fell asleep. When I woke up, the house was empty, and I realized I had slept much longer than expected. A cold

shiver ran down my spine. I had no idea where my mom or Eric were. I dialed Eric's number, but it went straight to voicemail, which freaked me out. Normally, it rang a few times before going to voicemail. Now it was blocked, and all my messages would be deleted. I called Erica again. After a long pause, she answered. "Yes, Mom?" "Where are you?" I asked. "Dad took us to the movies," she said. "Then Heun's going to the hospital to visit his grandfather. Did you know he had a heart attack? Anyway, Sarah's mom will pick us up

after the movie, and Dad will get me from her house." I decided I needed to talk to Erica. Eric had spoiled her so much that she only listened to him. This morning proved that Eric had arranged everything for her and left me out of the picture. I calmed down a little, remembering Erica was only 10. She was a kid, and spoiled ones often think the world revolves around them. How could I explain everything to Eric? I knew it would take time to fix things, but I was sure I could. I took another painkiller and went

back to sleep. For the next few days, I stayed in bed, letting my leg heal. I called my dad but felt incredibly lonely. My mom seemed angry with me, and I didn't know why, so I asked her, "You never came to the hospital." She snapped, "Eric's been there every day. He even brought Erica a few times." "Mom," I said, "the doctor said I might need surgery if I strain my hip." "I'll make it up to Dad," I added, feeling desperate, "but he'll probably recover faster than I will." Frustrated, I called Peggy. After telling her everything,

she replied, "You're taking this too seriously. You should divorce him." "It won't work," I said. "Eric makes more money than I do, but not enough for me to get much alimony." "Quit your job, then," Peggy suggested. "Why work when he can take care of you?" I laughed. "Why does he put up with me?" "You married him because you were pregnant and thought it was your best option," she reminded me. "You were going to leave him when Erica got older and you could cheat him out of child support. He'll do anything for Erica, even though she's

not his." "Peggy, shut up!" I snapped. "My mom's here, and she doesn't need to hear your crazy ideas." "Why are they crazy?" she asked, genuinely confused. "Think about it," I said. "You can have as many guys as you want, but who's going to really care about you? Who's going to be there when you're sick? Who loves you, Peggy? You can find men to entertain you, but who's going to love you for who you are?" The line went quiet for a while. Finally, I spoke again. "Peggy, neither of us can fit into our old cheerleading outfits."

After a long pause, Peggy sighed. "For some reason, Eric still thinks I'm hot. He gets jealous when other guys look at me. He'll love me forever, but I just broke his heart. I'm so stupid." "Okay," Peggy said, "we need a new plan." A few minutes later, my mom came in and mentioned Eric had dropped off some clothes for me. I was furious. "I would never allow that disrespect in your home," I told her. Peggy and I brainstormed ways to win Eric back, but nothing seemed to work. Eric left me messages through my mom and Erica,

suggesting I leave town while I healed. I didn't know how much he had told Erica, but things had cooled between us. Erica thought I had abandoned her, and I never had a chance to explain why. Then Peggy had an idea. "Give me a divorce," she said. I nearly slapped her. "You're crazy!" "Trust me," she said. "If Eric thinks he's going to lose you and Erica, he'll beg you to drop the divorce. If it goes further, we'll ask for counseling." I found a new lawyer, and Peggy set things in motion. Eric got called into work, and

my bad feeling only grew. We hired a tough bailiff to deliver the summons, and when Eric took the envelope, I saw a tear fall down his cheek. It struck me hard. My lawyer wanted to meet with Eric's lawyer, but Eric refused. He wanted to go straight to court. The judge ordered Eric to counseling, but he refused, and a hearing was scheduled. When I dressed up for court, I thought I might be winning, but when Eric walked in, I saw how... Much he'd been hurting, the judge soon revealed the truth: I had set the trap for

myself. The recording played, showing that Eric had known everything all along. When it ended, I looked at him, and his eyes were empty. "Eric, I—" I began, but he cut me off. "You don't know everything," he said coldly. "What else do I need to know?" I asked. "You didn't marry me because you loved me," he said. "You married me to raise someone else's child, and you've been cheating on me. If I hadn't caught you, you would have left me once Erica was old enough." "Eric, you don't understand! You fooled me!" he interrupted. "I loved you

like there was no tomorrow, but it was all fake!" Eric unknowingly broke my heart, but I knew there was no convincing him my feelings had changed. "That's one of the worst things I've heard," the judge said. "Your divorce is approved. No alimony." He looked at me. "You have a choice: jail for fraud, or give up your rights to the house." "He can take the house," I whispered. The judge nodded. Eric turned to me. "I'll need time before I tell Erica about the divorce." "I said it's going to be hard." "Don't do this," he replied. "Do

you know who her father is?" he asked. "Eric, this was my first time away from home. I was reckless," I said, shaking. "I chose you because you were cute and stayed when I told you to leave. How do you know she's not mine?" He asked. "DNA test," I answered. "Two years ago." I cried for hours, then decided never to tell him. "She doesn't know. She loves you. You're the only dad she's known." "I need time." "Don't do this," he said again. "It's enough for one of us to be heartbroken," he added. "I'll pay child support,

and we'll share custody." "Why did you—" I started. "I love her too," he said. "She's all I have left. We'll tell her when she's older." "What about the divorce?" I asked. "Could we...?" I looked at him. "She’ll be fine," he said. "She has friends with divorced parents." The judge glared at me. "If I see you again, you're going to jail," he muttered. As I left the courtroom, all I could think about was how to win Eric back despite the hurt. Eric's decision to stay in Erica's life spoke volumes. I knew he needed space to heal,

so I decided to wait. "It was a trap," Peggy hissed. "What do you mean?" I asked. "I spoke to Mitch," she said. "Eric and his lawyer planned everything. He had the evidence but didn't file for divorce right away. He was waiting for you to pay the legal fees. He loves your child, not you," she added. "He gets the house, no alimony, and half custody." Over the following weeks, things got worse. Eric insisted I tell my parents the truth, but not about Erica's paternity. My dad was disappointed but supportive. My mom was furious, kicking me and

saying, "Next time, Dana, men your age want younger women!" Eric must have been crushed, but he never said anything bad about you, she added. "He came to the hospital every day. He took care of your dad and Erica while you pretended to be hurt." "It was a serious injury!" I protested, but no one believed me. I realized I destroyed my marriage and hurt my relationship with my parents. I stayed with them until I found an apartment, but things didn't improve. The next day, my mother handed me the phone, disgusted. "Dana, I need your help," the

voice on the phone said. I froze. "What do you want?" I snapped. "Haven't you cost me enough? My yoga studio shut down because of Eric." "He said he's suing me for ruining your marriage." I laughed. "I was actually pleased Eric thought losing me was worth suing someone. From what I hear, these lawsuits rarely go anywhere," I said. "It's not about money. He's suing for $25, but he's really trying to ruin me, and now everyone knows about me, my wife, and our problems," he continued. "My wife's a heart surgeon, and this is wrecking her career." I

felt sympathy for his wife. She didn't deserve this. "Let me make one call," I said. "Are you calling Eric?" he asked. "No," I replied. "He won't pick up, but I know someone who will." A few minutes later, I called my mom. "What now, Mom?" she said. "Dad's taking me to Cold Stone for her age," she said. She was stunning, smooth, creamy coffee-colored skin and deep brown eyes that glowed with intelligence, though sadness lingered there. "French fries aren't great for your heart," she started. "I run a lot. I can afford it," I replied. "What's your 5K

time?" she asked. "5:30 p.m.," I said, proud. "Wow, that's fast," she said. "In college, I couldn't get under 20 minutes." Despite everything, her smile revealed who she was, and I liked her instantly. It made me feel small, especially considering how I'd acted. I realized I'd been punishing the innocent along with the guilty. She wasn't to blame for what our spouses did, just like I wasn't. "How can I help, doctor?" I asked sincerely. "Let me help you," she said. "I know you're hurting; so am I. I'll drop the lawsuit and media coverage." "Everything?" I offered. "What's

it going to cost me?" she smiled. "I've already offered your lawyers half a million." "I can't afford more," I said, though I knew she could. "How's your divorce going?" I asked. "We have six kids," she smiled. "We have an old-fashioned marriage. No divorce." I smiled back. There was an undeniable attraction between us. "If you're thinking what I'm thinking, we need to keep it a secret," she said. "It would make us no better than them," I replied. "Shame we're better than the people we married," she added. "How much money does your husband have?" I asked. "I

don't want your money, but I want to hurt him," she said. "He probably has $150,000 from my dowry and two years' rent on a yoga studio that's now closed." "That's exactly what I want," I said. "$150,000 and the studio. But I offered you three times that." She laughed. "You're not yourself." "I did it to hurt him," I said. "I never meant to hurt you, but promise me you won't replace his money." "I'd like to hurt him too," she said, "but I won't give him any money except for household expenses." So I became the owner of

a closed yoga studio with a good job and little debt. It was a nice surprise; I bought a 2003 SVT Cobra convertible and put the rest into a college fund for Erica. Two cars still remained on my dream list: a '67 Fastback and a 2014 Shelby GT500. My in-laws didn't understand my love for cars, but they were glad I was planning for Erica's future. My mother-in-law seemed sad, so I asked her about it. "It's hard to accept; I'll only have one grandchild," she said. "Is there no chance for more?" I hugged her. "She never loved

me," I said. "If it weren't for Erica, she wouldn't have married me. I was too boring." "You need to talk to her," my mother-in-law said. "Her feelings for you changed; she loved you by the end." "I think she just got used to me," I said. "I was like an old pair of shoes. This isn't the love I want, but she'll find someone else." "Maybe you'll get more grandkids." In the next weeks, I focused on work and making life easier for Erica. The fact that she wasn't my biological daughter didn't matter; I'd raised her, and legally

she was mine. The first week went smoothly. Erica and I stuck to our routine: school runs, activities, cooking, homework—avoiding the big change. By week two, Dana still didn't have a place to stay, and I had Erica again. But by week four, Erica started speaking negatively about her mother, and I got involved. I visited my in-laws with a plan. "Listen, Mrs.…" I began. "Eric, you've always called me Nancy or Mom," she said, surprised. "I'm not your son-in-law anymore," I shrugged. "Who said that?" she asked. "I have an idea," I said. "Erica's angry about Dana's absence. I

know she hasn't found a place yet; let’s give Dana the house next week so she can have her turn." Nancy said, she hugged me. "That's a great idea! Where will you stay?" "I'll rent a room near work," I said. "No," she replied. "Stay in the guest room upstairs." So I stayed with my in-laws for a week. On Saturday, I invited them to dinner. Sunday, I arranged for Erica to go to an amusement park. After my run, I returned to a messy house. Erica had tried to clean, but it was chaos. After a quick cleanup, I

was pulling Erica's clothes from the dryer when Pam's mom called to say she was on her way. "I missed you so much, Daddy," Erica said, hugging me goodbye. I went to change into my running clothes and found Dana half-drunk on my bed. When I opened the door, she stirred. I grabbed my clothes, threw my sneakers over my shoulder, and left. I changed in the kitchen and headed out. My phone rang; it was Dana. "Erica is gone," she said. I calmly explained everything. "Oh," she said. "You're really good at this single parent thing." "I need to

get it together," I replied. "It's easy for me," I added. She cried. "She loves you more." "I understand," she said, voice breaking. "I'm a witch who destroyed my family." "Have you ever thought you feel better because you have the damn house?" she asked bitterly. We fell silent. Then I heard her sobbing. "I didn't mean to, but I said it. It's easy for me because she's all I have." "You have a big family," she said. "I was an only child," I replied. "My parents died before we met. I'm obsessed with Erica because she's all I've got."

Her gasp was audible. "I'm sorry, Eric," she said weakly. "I don't handle this well." "I might have a place to stay, but I don't want some apartment. I want the house I chose that you paid for," I said. "That's not right," she protested. "When I first came here, it felt empty without you. This house means nothing. I want my family back. I want my husband back." She paused. "I saw that Indian guy last week. He and his wife are working on things. Why not us?" "I don't have all the answers," I said. "I need to

pick up Erica." "Okay, Eric," she said softly. "Do you think we could ever talk about…?" I hesitated. "Someday," I said, "but not now. It's too soon. I'm not strong enough. Bye, Dana." I meant everything I said, but the anger inside me was overwhelming. Dana's betrayal had shattered me. I didn't trust women anymore—not even the ones I worked with. It wasn't healthy, but a counselor told me it was normal and I needed to release it. I reached out to divorced friends who had experienced infidelity. We formed a support group, and at our third event, we turned

the yoga studio I inherited into our clubhouse. With help from contractor members, the place became a man cave with bars, TVs, a gym, and punching bags. We installed a sign: “BBC.” Some guys didn't like it, but we joked, "Welcome to the Broken Hearts Club." The club became a success with trips, parties, and activities. But one day at the club, a woman approached me while I was washing my car. "Thanks," I said as… She handed me a microfiber cloth. Her voice was deep, raspy, and melodic, sexy with a Southern accent. I couldn't stop staring at her;

she was everything I didn't expect. "You hate women, remember?" she teased. "Why should I do you a favor?" I said coldly. "Because Nancy says her brother-in-law is the sweetest guy ever," she grinned. I softened. "What favor?" She laughed. "I want you to break the rules of this man-hater club." "No way," I said. "Not me, Eric," she teased. "My dad! Did your mom cheat on him?" I asked. "Never," she replied, "but she lied to him." "That's almost worse," I muttered. She shared a story about her parents, high school sweethearts who'd been through illness, recovery, and rebuilding,

but her mom kept the truth about her cancer from her dad until she passed away. "My dad's devastated," she said, "and angry. He feels betrayed." She wanted me to help her dad cope. I agreed to meet him the next day. We hit it off with her dad, Tom, a big, strong man with a massive truck. Tom joined the BBC, and the club thrived with trips and parties. But one day, I spotted her on a ridge. "It was her!" She teased, "You're still at war with yourself." I was taken aback. "What are you doing here?" She

explained how her dad was struggling with grief, and it hit me hard. "I think you're still stuck," she said softly. I was surprised by her insight. "You haven't told me what you and Ralph are doing here." She explained that her dad needed help. I agreed to help. The next day she left with a smile. "Nancy was right, you're really cute." I barely stopped myself from kissing her. "Drive safe," I said, conflicted. She laughed. "This wasn't over." "Dana, get up! You're late for work!" My mom's voice cut through my hangover like a shovel through mud. "You

don't need to go to work today," I muttered. "I took some time off." "It was selfish and stupid." "Dana, you've got Erica next week," she replied. "You could handle it then." My brain wasn't functioning yet, still clouded by booze. "Why can't I just get a break for a few days?" I snapped. "Why can't I relax and breathe?" She answered quickly, "You've had that for ten years! You divorced him, remember? Now you need to work and take care of things like everyone else." I stood up and realized I was still in the clothes from last night.

"Dana, you look ridiculous and smell like booze," she said. I walked past her into the bathroom. "Mom, I'm in my 30s," I said. "I can have fun sometimes. It's part of my plan. I can't do anything for a year, so I might as well get it out of my system." "Dana, what are you talking about?" she asked. "Every article online says it takes a man a year or two to get over a betrayal," I explained. "If I try to get Eric back too soon, he'll just be angrier, and he's already angry." "Did you know he's

the president of some woman-hating club?" she asked. "Yeah, I know," I said. "But now I get why. Eric's too good to act that way without a reason." "You cheated on him." I was stunned. Over the past couple of months, things had been spiraling. My relationship was falling apart. My parents looked at me like I was a burden. I felt like a parasite, doing nothing but slowing everyone down. Even my daughter seemed like she blamed me. I tried to tell her Eric was the reason I left, that I'd come back once he allowed it, but hearing

how well Eric was doing without me—his promotions, raises—was unbearable. Peggy was the only one who understood. After giving me terrible legal advice, she felt guilty and started helping me adjust to life without Eric, even encouraging me to go out and let loose. "Think about it, Dana," she said. "You're not cheating. You're not married anymore." So I did. I went out a lot, met new people. It wasn't planned, but Peggy said I was young and needed to get this wildness out of my system. After a couple of months, I thought it would be over, but the

truth was I never really understood why I started sleeping around in the first place. It was just a quick fling with my yoga instructor—nothing that threatened my marriage. Eric was the one I truly cared about, but lately everything was reminding me that I couldn't get back what I had with him. Peggy helped me realize something: I was looking for the love I had with Eric. Every guy I slept with just reminded me of how good he was. He loved me; they didn't. That was the difference. And now the people I slept with were all linked

to Eric. If it ever came out, there'd be no going back. As the memories cleared, I faced a new problem. My mom was right: I had Erica next week, but I'd promised Peggy I'd go to Vegas with her. My job search had been unsuccessful; I'd missed too many days and was fired for poor productivity. Staying at my parents' place was getting more uncomfortable every day. They were getting tired of me, and Eric certainly wouldn't let me stay in the house again after I left it in such a mess. I thought about calling Eric to ask

if he could keep Erica for another week. He'd probably say no, but I knew he'd stick to the schedule. It would mean he'd have her for three weeks straight, and despite not being her biological father, he loved her like she was his own. As I thought about it, I realized that Eric was such a good dad to Erica, but I had messed everything up. Had convinced Eric she was his, but it turned out she wasn't. That DNA test had shattered me. If I'd handled things differently, maybe I'd still be with him; maybe I'd have the

perfect life. Instead, I was living at my parents' house like a failure. I took a deep breath and decided to call Eric. "Hello," he answered, his voice calm and familiar. "Eric, I need your help," I said, unsure how to phrase it. "Why me? We're not married anymore," he replied, almost playfully. "This is about Erica," I said quickly. "I need to leave town next week. Could you take care of her?" His tone softened. "What's going on?" "I need to go out of town next week. Could you take care of Erica?" I asked, trying to sound casual,

but my voice betrayed me. "I'm going on a cruise." He sighed. "A cruise?" I couldn't believe it. Here I was, struggling to get by, and he was going on a cruise? And he hadn't even considered taking me! "I'll call you back," he said. "I have an idea." I didn't know what to think. Maybe he was going to make some arrangement to take Erica. I was left in disbelief. Twenty minutes later, he called back. "I arranged everything," he said, sounding too pleased with himself. "Have a nice trip." I was furious. I had dreamed of going on

that cruise; it was on my bucket list. But I realized too late that Eric had never even considered taking me. It could have been an opportunity for us to reconnect, but that door had closed before I could say anything. He hung up. It was like he knew how I would react. I called him again. "What?" Dana he asked, clearly irritated. "I just wanted to thank you and tell you I'm sorry you'll miss your cruise," I said, my voice tight. "Erica has a great dad. I'm taking her on the cruise," he interrupted. "I called her teacher;

she can miss school. Bye." The call ended. I stood there, staring at the phone, feeling worse than ever. I was about to make a stupid decision, but I had to. I called Peggy. "I'll go to Vegas with you," I said, trying to sound upbeat. "What's going on?" she asked, confused. "Heun's ruining my life again," I said. "So you're worried about your ex-husband now?" she asked, almost disbelieving. "And you're planning to go with guys from another state?" "He's going on a cruise, and I can't even pay for an apartment! He planned it all last minute," I

said. "Let's just go to Vegas and have fun," she suggested, trying to cheer me up. "But how are we going to pay?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "I have a rich friend who throws parties," she said. "It'll be fine." I wasn't so sure, but I didn't have many other options, so I went along with it. I called Erica. Sure, Eric wouldn't want to talk to me, but Erica was thrilled about the cruise and couldn't stop talking about it. The more she told me, the angrier I became. This was my dream trip; I wanted to

be there. But then I realized maybe a cruise was the perfect opportunity to get closer to Eric again. I called the cruise line. The prices for a private cabin were outrageous; worse, most cabins were already reserved. The ship was sold out. It made sense now; Eric had probably booked it through his woman-hating club, securing discounted rooms. This divorce had changed everything. I had focused so much on Eric and me that I ignored my relationship with Erica. She was getting closer to him while I drifted further away. I promised myself I'd fix things with Erica when

I came back, but I couldn't help thinking about all the things I was still avoiding: finding a job, getting an apartment, getting Eric back, and now fixing my relationship with Erica. I didn't know when I'd get around to it. Later, I was talking to the guys about the trip, and everything was fine. All 40 club members were on board, and I wasn't the only one bringing a guest. Will had brought his mom, a lively, funny woman. I had to decide whether to bring Erica. I didn't want to be distracted by her while managing the club's

needs, but I also wanted her to have fun on the cruise. Nancy thought it was a good idea, but her husband's recovery was slower than expected, limiting her options. So I asked if Erica could stay with Nancy and her husband for a while. Now, standing on the deck, I was scanning the crowd, wondering where Erica was. Suddenly I heard her voice. "Jenny!" she called out, excited. I turned, shocked. Erica had been so attached to me during the flight, and now she was talking to a complete stranger. How did she even know her name? Jenny was

stunning, dressed in an elegant white hat and a form-fitting blue dress; she exuded confidence. She grinned at me, teasing, "You're looking again." I froze. "I was just worried you wouldn't be able to handle it." She laughed, clearly not taking me seriously. "Dad and I got here ahead of you; we've already figured out what we'll do." Erica wanted in. "I want to have fun too," Jenny winked at her. "We'll let your dad join us if he's good." The next few days were a blur of fun. I spent most of my time with Erica and Jenny, enjoying

the cruise and getting to know the guys. But two days before disembarking, everything took a turn. Erica and Jenny were at the pool, and I went to join them after the club's competition. I sat down next to a guy I knew, someone from another group. He was chatting about a girl nearby, making crude remarks. My temper flared. "But before I could act, Tom grabbed my hand. He turned to the guy. 'You know her?' The guy didn't realize who he was talking to. 'You're part of that club—the ones who hate women.' Unfazed, Tom punched the guy

hard, knocking him off his chair. The guy's friend surrendered immediately. The crew came over, but I lied, saying the guy just fell off the chair. Afterward, Tom joked that we were in a gay club to confuse them. Jenny walked over, concerned. 'Are you okay?' 'I almost kicked the guy,' I muttered. Tom laughed. 'I punched him first.' Jenny winked. 'You can kick the next one.' Later, Tom and I sat down to discuss club business. He had a serious look. 'We need to talk about your future here,' he said. 'What if you leave the club?' I was

confused. 'What do you mean?' Tom reminded me of last night's dinner. 'What did Jenny eat?' 'Spaghetti with shrimp,' I replied. 'And me?' I thought for a moment. 'You had steak.' Tom leaned back. 'See my point?' I still didn't get it, but Tom went on. 'Jenny's not the same. She used to wear jeans and tees, but now she's buying fancy clothes. Something's changing.' Before I could respond, Jenny and Erica returned, ready for dinner. Erica looked at me. 'We're tired of eating out. Let's grab something from the buffet and sit on the deck.' I smiled at her.

'Sounds good.' I noticed my daughter's accent was shifting; she started dropping the 'g' at the end of words and stretching syllables. 'What were you and my dad talking about?' Jenny asked, narrowing her eyes. 'Some secret Water Buffalo lodge stuff?' 'I don't know,' I replied. 'We talked about your dinner, the club, your clothes, and trains.' Jenny smiled. 'I need a favor,' she said, her eyes sparkling. I raised an eyebrow. 'What's up?' She winked. 'Want to ask what it is?' Her tone grew serious. 'Get dressed and take me dancing.' She grinned. 'Okay,' I said. 'Erica's probably asleep

by now; all that swimming wore her out.' 'Ellie's watching her,' Jenny reassured me, her smile lighting up everything. I asked Tom and Will to look after me that evening; they were more than happy. 'Where are you going?' Tom asked. 'Uh, dancing,' I said. 'Damn trains,' he muttered. 'They can't be stopped.' I took a quick shower and changed into a tuxedo. I adjusted my tie a few times before settling on a red bow tie, James Bond style. I felt pretty good. I knocked on Jenny's door, and she opened it before I could knock again. 'She's resisting

sleep,' she whispered. 'Where are we going?' Erica asked, barely holding back a yawn. 'Sleep,' I said, kissing her forehead. She mumbled, 'I love you, Daddy,' as I carried her back to bed. When I turned around, Jenny was standing there, wearing a stunning black dress. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She smiled at me, and everything else faded. We didn't really dance; we just stood there, holding each other, swaying a little. At one point, I got drinks. I grabbed a vodka martini for myself, shaken, not stirred, and a glass of chilled white wine for Jenny.

'For someone who hates women, you're actually pretty confident,' Jenny teased. 'I feel so warm and safe,' I said suddenly, rushing to the side of the ship, looking at my drink in disgust. 'This is horrible.' Jenny took a sip, then spit it out. 'It tastes like medicine.' I shrugged. 'It's a vodka martini, shaken, not stirred.' 'Why would you order this?' she asked, surprised. I paused. 'Being with you makes me do stupid things. I wanted to feel like James Bond tonight.' Jenny smiled and put her hand over my mouth, silencing me. 'If you were trying to get

in my pants, it worked.' I was stunned, not sure how to respond. 'Let’s get back to dancing,' she said, pulling me toward the floor. We stood there, lost in each other's eyes. The lights around us seemed dim in comparison to her gaze. 'Eric, I can't breathe,' she murmured, her face pressed against my chest. I loosened the hug, but she held me tighter. 'That's not the point,' she said softly. 'You can hold me as tight as you want, but it feels like there's just not enough air.' We stepped out onto the deck under the moonlight; it

felt like the two of us were the only ones in the world. A voice in my head said, 'Resistance is futile,' and then our lips met. Time stood still. When we finally pulled away, my heart was racing. 'Jenny, I—' I started. She laughed. 'I know, stupid. Just shut up and kiss me again.' I thought to myself, This is perfect; I want to remember this forever. But reality intervened. 'What the hell?' a voice shouted from behind us. 'Hey, it's Eric!' someone else called. 'Some woman is attacking him,' another voice added. 'Damn trains,' a familiar voice muttered.

The moment shattered. I turned around to face the angry faces of my club members—some angry, others confused. I had no words, but then Jenny took my hand, and I felt a surge of energy. I didn't need to say anything; real friends would understand. I stood tall. 'We’ll talk about the future when we get back,' I said. 'Tom and Will will handle things. Good night.' Everyone looked confused. Will shook his head. 'For three damn days you’ve been talking about trains. Why didn't you just say it?' Tom shrugged. 'Something this strong you can't stop; you just get

out of the way.' The next morning was strangely quiet. I thought something might happen, but trouble came from an unexpected direction. I woke up early. I didn't want to stay in bed, lost in thoughts of Jenny, when she and Erica showed up, packed and ready for breakfast. I felt a surge of relief." "Ship docked. We stood on the upper deck, watching with a little anxiety as the massive ship approached the pier. It was smooth, though; no jolt. By afternoon, things started to unravel. I was holding Jenny's hand, Erica's on the other side, when my phone

rang. "Eric came the voice. Where are you? We have a problem. Big Dad having another seizure." I asked, "Almost there." The voice replied, "Is Erica with you?" Nancy asked, her voice urgent. "Yes," I said. "Make sure she can't hear," Nancy said. I stepped aside, trying to stay calm. "The ship just docked," I muttered. Nancy was frantic. "Eric, how soon can you get to Las Vegas?" "About 5 hours by car," I replied, "but we can fly there in an hour." "It's an emergency," she said. "But don't take Erica with you," she added. "She doesn't need to

see this." I hesitated. We already had our return flights booked, but I could change my ticket. Nancy pressed, "What's going on?" I explained the situation, and my anger flared. "Daddy, why is your face red?" Erica asked. "Jenny, I need a favor," I said. "No," Jenny replied firmly. I was stunned. "But I did you a favor last night," I protested. She silenced me with her hand. "Last night was the best night ever, but this is different. If you need something, ask. I'll do it because I love you." Erica giggled. "Daddy and Jenny sitting in a tree."

"I need you to take ER home," I said, my voice more urgent. Jenny's face softened. "I'll take care of it," she said. "Eric, I always call you," she added with a laugh. "You know my number, right?" "Of course," I said, with a small smile. I woke up with another brutal hangover, but this time I knew where I was. "Why are you awake?" Peggy asked sarcastically. I turned away from her. I didn't need more of her lies. I was in a jail cell with about 20 other women. A policeman came in to let us make calls

one by one. Some had already called the night before, but the rest of us, too drunk to do anything, had to wait. It was 9:00 a.m., which meant it was around noon in Michigan. I had the phone in my hand and thought about who to call. If I called my mom, she'd be furious. If I called Eric, my marriage would end for sure; there was no saving it. I called my mom. "Mom, I'm in trouble," I said, trying to stay calm. "Dana, you're always in trouble," she replied cheerfully, like it is no big deal. "I'm

in jail," I said, feeling the weight of the words. "Well, that's one way to get your own place," she said sarcastically. "This is serious, Mom. Someone needs to bail me out," I said, frustrated. "You can pay the bail with a credit card, but you need to show up in person," she said, sounding clueless. "I don't have money," I said, my patience running out. "What did you do?" she asked, curiosity in her voice. "I'm not sure," I lied. "It's one of those tourist things. The laws are different here." "How much is your bail?" "$22,000," I said.

"Well, you only need 200 to get out, right?" she said, still mocking me. "No, Mom. I need the full $2,000," I explained. "I'm considered a flight risk." "Where are you exactly?" she asked, finally sounding concerned. I gave her the details. "Let me make a few calls," she said. "It'll take some time." When I returned to the cell, Peggy was waiting for me. "Can you get me out too?" she asked, desperate. "Why should I help you?" I snapped, anger rising again. "Because I'm your best friend," she smiled. "Peggy, you set me up," I said coldly. "I

wouldn't be here if it weren't for you." She claimed it was all for fun, but I wasn't sure if she was sorry or just trying to cover her tracks. It didn't matter; I'd made the mistake by trusting her, and now I had to deal with it. The truth was I thought the rules didn't apply to me. I'd gone wild, and now my life was a mess because of it. I cheated on Eric, and for a while, he stood by me, but I never told him the truth. I didn't tell him about the DNA test that

could have saved us from so much pain, but I never gave him the chance to choose. I let him love me blindly, and that only encouraged my worst behavior. Then I slept with a yoga teacher, and everything I'd built with Eric started to crumble. Peggy's bad advice kept the fire burning, but it was my own mistakes that ignited it. Time flew by, and I didn't realize how quickly it passed until Peggy shook me. "Your bail's been arranged," the officer said. "Come with me." I smiled, relieved that my mom had helped, even if she hadn't really

fixed anything. "See you, Peggy," I called, still feeling some relief, but when I saw Eric waiting for me, my relief vanished. The look on his face—disappointment and disgust—was worse than I expected. The flight back to Michigan was the longest, quietest, most stressful one of my life. Eric and I had grown so distant that it felt like we were strangers. He seemed reluctant to touch me, like I was diseased. "Thanks for coming for me," I said, trying to break the silence. "Even with the divorce, I'm not sure about coming to your hearing," he replied flatly. "If

there's still something between us, you'd come," I said, trying to reach him. "What else would I do?" he asked, his voice distant but with a small, sincere smile. "Jenny wants a wedding in June," he added. "I think I'll marry her or go on a honeymoon." Here’s the text with corrected punctuation: Words hit me hard. He was moving on. Jenny was everything I wasn't: sweet and beautiful, and they were perfect together. The hardest part was realizing that my actions had pushed Eric away. I had procrastinated until it was too late to fix things. I received a

two-year suspended sentence and had to stay in Vegas for random checks. Eric took care of Erica, but he still brought her to see me regularly. The three of us, plus Jenny, even discussed Erica's future, and she decided to focus on equestrianism instead of swimming. After my father died, I returned to Michigan, living a quiet life with my mother. I work for Eric's company now, and maybe someday I'll find my Mr. W. "Erica burst into the room. 'You smell like a horse,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'I fed them,' I replied, not bothered by her comment.

We had moved into a big house with space for two horses and a paddock for Erica to train. There were also trails nearby for riding and running. 'Have you told me yet?' Erica asked. Jenny, excited, said, 'No.' 'Why does he wear sunglasses in bed?' Erica asked, pointing at me with a grin. 'He thinks it's funny,' Jenny said, smiling. 'I'll give him a hint,' Erica teased. 'Dad, how many people live here?' Erica asked, clearly curious. 'Five,' I answered quickly. 'You, me, Jenny, and your two horses?' she asked, raising an eyebrow. 'No,' I chuckled. 'Four. One of

the horses died.' 'Erica asked seriously. 'Of course not,' Jenny said, rolling her eyes. 'People said they live at home,' I explained, unsure why I felt the need to clarify. Suddenly, an idea clicked. 'Is your grandfather moving in with us?' I asked, half-joking. 'He's really dumb, huh?' Erica asked, giving Jenny a mock disgusted face. 'But he's cute,' Jenny laughed. Erica couldn't hold it in any longer. 'We're having a baby, Daddy!' she exclaimed, bursting with excitement. I froze, staring at Jenny like I'd been hit by a truck. She nodded, glowing with happiness. It was one of the

happiest moments of my life. Jenny and I were completely in love, and I was sure we'd be together forever. My life felt perfect. Tom convinced me to help with his truck rental company, which led to an idea: using trucks to start a home delivery service for medical equipment. In two years, the delivery service was out-earning the rentals by three to four times. We also began installing and servicing equipment with the growing elderly population; the medical field was booming. Dana, my ex-wife, worked as a clerk at one of our properties. We weren't close anymore; too much

had happened. Sometimes thinking about what she did still stung, but we could manage when necessary. One of those times came eight years after our divorce when Erica was about to turn 18. She was a champion show jumper and still my favorite person. Jenny and I had two other kids, but Erica was always our baby. We loved them all, but Erica had a special place in our hearts. Erica was going to college for veterinary science, focusing on equine studies. Dana and I met and agreed it was best not to tell Erica the truth about her birth:

that I wasn't her biological father. Sometimes the truth does more damage than good. I'm no longer part of the Great British club. After a cruise, I gave a speech and told the guys I was done. The club had been a way to heal during tough times, but I didn't need it anymore. I hoped others would heal too. I left Tom and Will in charge and gave them the lease to the club. [Music] [Applause] [Music] [Applause] [Music]