My Wife Had a Great Job, But Suddenly She Quit—It Made No Sense Until I Discovered Her Shocking Secret…

I read it over and over again, just to make sure I hadn’t misunderstood. Whether it happened once or many times, I didn’t care anymore. The only thing echoing in my mind was that my wife had slept with another man.

One late afternoon, my wife came home looking exhausted. She told me she was quitting her current job and would look for a new one. Her decision completely shocked me.

She had a great job with an income that many would envy. At her age—over 30—with such a solid career, there seemed to be no reason for her to suddenly “jump ship.”

She said the work was too busy, too stressful, and since our family wasn’t in financial hardship, she wanted a more relaxed job so she could have more time to care for our two young children.

During the days she struggled to find a new job and later accepted a contract position with a salary less than half of what she used to earn, I often nagged her.

Not because I was upset that she was unemployed or earning less, but because I regretted all the effort she had put in to earn her position at the company. I felt it was a waste of her talent and potential.

And eventually, I understood the real reason behind her strange decision.

“I already quit my job at the company, and you still won’t leave me alone? Let me remind you—I don’t love you. It was just a moment of weakness, a mistake. Don’t you dare threaten me with my husband. If you ruin me, I can ruin your family too.”

That message flashed clearly on my wife’s phone screen while she rushed to the rooftop to bring in the laundry when it suddenly started raining. It was the only message that hadn’t been deleted—all the previous ones were likely erased, leaving no trace behind.

I read it over and over, trying to convince myself I hadn’t misread it. My wife had slept with some man from her office, and now it seemed he was using it to harass her. She hadn’t quit her job simply because of stress—she was running away from him.

When it happened, whether it was once or many times, recently or long ago, I didn’t care anymore. The only thing I could remember at that moment was this: my wife had slept with another man.

If you’re a man and you suddenly uncover something this devastating, what would you do? Lash out and confront her, just to hear her cry and make excuses? Hurl accusations and cruel words just to cool the rage in your heart? I didn’t do any of that. I simply went to the bedroom, shut the door, and cried alone.

I had loved my wife since she was just a young girl. She was my first love, and I was her first, too.

Everyone said that couples who start dating from school days rarely last—but we did. Despite all the challenges of life, from love to marriage, and all the burdens of work and money, we held on.

My wife and I worked tirelessly—late nights, early mornings, taking side jobs, saving every penny—so she could pursue higher education and secure a good position. After she finished studying, it was my turn.

We struggled so much that even though we married at 24, we didn’t dare have children until we were 28. I had always been proud of our marriage, even admired our love story. I thought it was perfect, without a flaw.

My wife had always been the picture of a proper, decent woman. So how—how could she let herself fall like this? Why couldn’t she stay in control and stop herself from crossing such an unforgivable line? Was it because I failed her, or was it simply her own weakness and inability to resist her emotions?

This shock knocked me down—literally. I became bedridden with illness. Of course, my wife had no idea why someone like me, who rarely even caught a cold, suddenly couldn’t get up for a week.

But in that week, I had time to be alone. When she was at work, and our child at school, I sat with my pain, trying to figure out how to heal this deep wound.

I knew my wife had made a mistake. But clearly, she must have been suffering and scared too—scared enough to quit her job and run from that man. She was trying to protect this family in the only way she knew how. And maybe… so should I.

I told myself I had to forgive her—as if I never knew anything. I had to preserve this family, protect this marriage. That’s what I thought about the entire week I lay there in bed.

The decision to forgive brought a bit of peace to my heart. But things were not as easy as I had imagined.

Outwardly, I seemed the same. But inside, waves of emotion crashed constantly. It showed the most clearly whenever I tried to be intimate with my wife. No matter how hard I tried, I was emotionally numb.

I was no longer the man I used to be—strong, passionate, full of life. Every time I wanted to be close to her, the image of her with another man would creep into my mind. It was like a sharp knife, cutting off all desire and emotion in an instant—cold and cruel.

At first, my wife thought it was just work stress or fatigue. But as time went on, she began to worry. She changed our meals, bought all kinds of supplements—but I didn’t take them. I knew this wasn’t about physical health. It was a wound in my heart.

I kept telling myself to forgive her, to treat it like a terrible accident best forgotten. But sometimes, I just wanted to scream—to tell her that because of what she did, I became a broken man.

I thought maybe… if she cried, begged, apologized, I might feel a little better. But watching her act calm, like nothing had happened—as if she were innocent—was far more painful.

Is that the only way? To lay bare this pain for her to see—only then might I be able to release this burden that’s crushing my heart?