In the Scorching Heat, I Discovered My Husband Was Using Our Shared Money to Pay the Electric Bill for Another Apartment

This summer has truly been a brutal challenge for all pregnant women — and I’m no exception.
I’m currently seven months pregnant, with a belly that’s hard to miss. Starting from the fifth month, I began experiencing mild swelling in my feet and nightly back pain. But what drains me the most is the unbearable heat. Just stepping outside for five minutes during the day makes me feel like I’m about to combust, and at night, it’s almost impossible to sleep without the air conditioner.

My husband told me, “Don’t worry about the electricity bill, just use the AC as much as you want.”
It sounded sweet and thoughtful, but I still tried to be careful. I only set the AC to 28°C, used a timer to turn it off by 3 a.m., and during the day, I relied on a misting fan to save power. I did my best not to be one of those “difficult pregnant wives.”

And yet, the May electric bill left me speechless.
The cost had jumped significantly, even though I had been holding back on using the AC to save money.
I’m the kind of wife who manages our finances with a light touch — I don’t micromanage every cent my husband spends. But for fixed household expenses like rent, electricity, and water, I do keep track to budget properly.

Last month, our electricity bill nearly doubled compared to April.

I opened the EVN app to double-check, and while it was true that we had used the air conditioner more, it still didn’t justify an increase of 1.5 million VND. While reviewing the bills, I accidentally discovered another invoice—also under my husband’s name. It was paid on the same date, the 15th of every month, but it had a different customer ID and a different address.

Feeling suspicious, I texted my husband:

– Honey, do we have two electricity meters now?

He replied curtly:

– Oh, EVN probably made a mistake. I’ll call and ask.

But my gut told me something was wrong. There’s no way EVN would “accidentally” bill us consistently for six months—every month, on time—with electricity usage that looked just like a normal household.

I copied the customer ID into Google and eventually found the address. My heart sank when I saw the familiar name: the old apartment complex of my husband’s ex-girlfriend. I knew this woman. Before marrying me, she and my husband had been together for four years. Their breakup wasn’t messy, but I had always sensed that the relationship didn’t really end on a clean slate. When he married me, my husband swore it was all in the past—and I believed him.

But now? What woman wouldn’t start asking questions? Why had my husband been quietly paying the electricity bills for that apartment for the past six months? I didn’t scream or cause a scene. I stayed silent—partly because I was exhausted, and partly because this heavy belly had taught me to choose carefully what was worth getting angry over. But inside me, everything was burning.

That night, even with the air conditioner set to 26 degrees, I couldn’t sleep. The cold air hit my face, yet my eyes felt hot. I placed my hand on my belly, and my baby kicked gently, as if to remind me: “Mom, I’m here.”

The next morning, I printed the payment statement and left it on the dining table. My husband wasn’t surprised. He just lowered his head. No explanations. No reaction. That was when I knew: every question would be pointless. He simply said:

“I don’t want you to think badly, but she’s unemployed and has a small child… I was just helping a bit, nothing more.”

I gave a faint smile.

“And I’m pregnant in the middle of a 40-degree summer, holding back from using the air conditioner every night because I’m worried about the bill.”

We didn’t fight. There was only a heavy silence that spread through the house—colder than any air conditioner. I’m not sure what I’ll do next. Divorce? Not yet. I need more time. Trusting him again? Even harder. Because being betrayed while carrying a child cuts deeper than any other wound.

But one thing I do know: I will never again allow myself to be the “other woman” in my own marriage.

This summer, the heat outside may reach 40 degrees. But the fire in my heart when I realized I was only second place in the heart of the man I trusted—burned even hotter.

I will give birth in the fall. And I hope that by then, my heart will have cooled too.