ADVERTISEMENT
“What I want is for you to experience the same humiliation you put me through.
What I want is for you to lose everything you think makes you important. What I want is for you to find out what it feels like to not be good enough.”
“Begging?
That’s interesting. I don’t remember you being concerned about my feelings when you were telling Stephanie how disappointing I am.”
“I was angry. I didn’t mean those things.”
“You meant every word.
The only thing you didn’t mean were your wedding vows.”
That’s when it really hit him. The business he’d built, the lifestyle he’d cultivated, the social status he’d worked so hard to achieve. All of it was about to disappear because he couldn’t keep his heart faithful to his wife.
“This will ruin completely,” he whispered. “Yes, it will. Just like you’ve been trying to ruin my self-worth for months.”
His breathing became even more labored, and sweat was beading on his forehead despite the air conditioning.
“That’s called panic, Richard. It’s what happens when you realize your actions have consequences.”
“Amber, I think I’m having a heart attack.”
He grabbed his chest and collapsed onto the marble floor of our foyer, gasping for air like a fish out of water. I stood there looking down at him, and for just a moment, I felt a flicker of concern.
Then I remembered the months of criticism, the secret emails, the plan to humiliate me at my brother’s wedding. I called 911. “My husband appears to be having some kind of medical emergency,” I told the dispatcher calmly.
“He’s conscious but having difficulty breathing.”
As we waited for the ambulance, Richard looked up at me from the floor. “Please,” he gasped. “Don’t… don’t destroy me.”
“You destroyed yourself, Richard.
The paramedics arrived within minutes and determined he was having a panic attack, not a heart attack. They loaded him onto a stretcher anyway for observation at the hospital. “Are you riding with him?” one of the EMTs asked.
I looked at my husband strapped to a gurnie, probably trying to figure out how much his betrayal was going to cost him. “Yes,” I said. “Someone needs to be there when he gets the final diagnosis.”
The ride to the hospital was surreal.
Richard was conscious but sedated, and I sat beside him thinking about how we’d gotten to this point. Five years of marriage reduced to this. Him on a stretcher, me contemplating divorce papers, and his mistress probably wondering why he wasn’t answering her texts.
At the hospital, they ran tests and confirmed what the paramedics suspected. Panic attack brought on by acute stress. Richard would be fine physically.
Emotionally and financially, that was another story entirely. 6 months later, I was running the company Richard had built, which had technically been half mine anyway. I’d lost 20 lb, updated my wardrobe, and was dating a wonderful man who thought my business acumen was impressive rather than threatening.
The best part, I kept the house. Richard’s dream house with its marble counters and crystal chandeliers became my sanctuary. Every morning, I wake up in our former bedroom and remember that I’m worth more than someone who made me feel worthless.
Richard moved into a one-bedroom apartment and took a job working for someone else. Stephanie moved back to her hometown after her husband took everything in their divorce. Sometimes I see Richard around town.
He looks older, tired, diminished. Sometimes he tries to make eye contact, probably hoping for forgiveness or reconciliation. I look right through him because here’s what I learned.
When someone shows you who they really are, believe them the first time. And when someone tries to make you feel small, remember that you have the power to make them feel even smaller. The three words I told Richard that night, you lose everything.
And he did.
ADVERTISEMENT
