I caught my husband in bed with my daughter. But the next twist was unexpected

 

 Our bed had been a chilly, quiet place for months, devoid of contact and intimacy. After being fired, my husband, who had been my pillar of support, was now a ghost in our house, plagued by the fear of losing his job. Every unsuccessful interview eroded his soul and the closeness that once united us. In addition to bearing the weight of our expenses as a working mother, my heart ached for another child. Our lone daughter, who was about to become a woman, was already eighteen. 

I had visited innumerable prayer houses, seen every doctor, and even spoken with a well-known local healer. The same decision was consistently rendered: "No conception." My husband and I were even more estranged after hearing that heartbreaking word.

Our separation became intolerable. My daughter, my lovely, intelligent girl, was my only comfort. Desperate to regain some control and improve our financial situation, I quit my job and used all of my funds to launch my own company. Bone-tired but holding onto a shaky hope, I worked nonstop, frequently not getting home until 8 PM. But a subtle, nagging suspicion that my husband was unfaithful had started to grow in my stomach.

I only had a woman's intuition, a gut feeling that grew more and more twisted every day, but no proof or hard evidence. I made an effort to ignore it, to tell myself that it was simply fatigue and the strain of our life. I would tell myself, "It's nothing," and dismiss the idea like an irritating fly.

And then today. After forgetting some important business paperwork, I reversed the car and arrived at our building around 10 AM, which was hours earlier than normal. Too still, too wrong, the apartment's silence was disturbing. I suddenly caught sight of it. I will always remember the picture of my husband, nude, entangled with our 18-year-old daughter in our bed.

My world erupted rather than simply shattering. I exhaled the air. With a silent scream stuck in my throat, I stood still. I was ripped through with grief, incredulity, and a deep, blazing anger. My spouse scurried around, fumbling for blankets and stuttering an apology, but his words were insignificant in comparison to the roar in my ears. I was unable to move or talk. My gaze remained focused on the scene, reliving it and causing it to sear more deeply into my retina. This was more than simply betrayal; it was a violation so severe and disgusting that I was unable to comprehend it. Could he? How were they able to?

But this nightmare's real, terrifying finale was still to come. I was still feeling the effects of the shock two days later when my daughter, who is my own flesh and blood, gave me a cold look that I had never seen before. "You should leave this house," she said in a venomous voice. "You're taking my dad from me." The statements were like a physical blow to my body. The last remnants of my rationality were torn away by her subsequent admission, though: "We've been together since I was twelve years old."

Twelve years old. My heart imploded, not just broke. Twelve years. The sadness was so intense that it was like a crushing weight on the body. I am totally lost and heartbroken. I don't know what to do.