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The blue dot appeared.
He wasn’t in a forest…
Nor in a campsite.
Not even outside the city.
There he was, in a residential neighborhood, at the address of a small house I didn’t recognize. An ordinary place. Almost too ordinary.
I didn’t think. I grabbed my keys. I told the kids I was going out. I got in the car, my throat tight, my thoughts racing.
When I arrived in front of the house, I turned off the engine. I watched silently. The shutters were open. A car was parked in front. Then, after a few minutes, the door opened.
And he went out.
My husband…..
The man who had to camp in the woods.
No boots. No backpack.
Dressed like a date.
And then… she appeared.
A woman. Young. Confident.
She laughed. He laughed.
And there, right in front of me, he kissed her. For a long time.
I stood frozen. Unable to breathe.
The world collapsed silently around me.
It wasn’t just a betrayal. It was a collapse. A brutal fall from everything I believed to be true: faith, role modeling, marriage, trust.
He had not gone to get closer to God.
He had gone away from us.
I went home without saying a word. I didn’t want to explode in front of the children. I locked myself in the bathroom. I looked at my reflection. I didn’t know if I wanted to cry, scream, or smash everything.
That evening he sent me a message:
“Everything is going well here. I’m thinking of you ❤️ .”
And I was still looking at his tent, his Bible, his boots… in my garage.
I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. But what I do know is that I’ll never fold his clothes over a lie again.
I will no longer believe in words disguised as prayers
And I will never teach my children that faith is pretend.
