Life after being cheated on

I caught my husband cheating on me a few days before I gave birth. Yes, you read that right. But wait—it gets worse. He did it in our marital bed, while I was just outside our bedroom the entire time.

When I walked in on them, “shattered” didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. Destroyed. Devastated. The walls of our bedroom collapsed around me like a house of cards, but it wasn’t just the walls—it was my entire life. I had spent years preparing for motherhood, but nothing could have prepared me for this.

I don’t know if there’s a worse kind of betrayal than being cheated on while you’re about to bring a life into this world. I had imagined the birth of my child as a moment of pure bliss, but instead, I went into labor carrying a heartbreak so heavy it felt unbearable and utterly frightening. I didn’t think it was fair for me to have to fight for my marriage as a new mom. But then again, I don’t think there’s a “best” or “ideal” time for infidelity. No matter the circumstance or the extent, cheating hurts as hell.

When it was time to give birth, I pushed for an hour, but my son wouldn’t come out. Deep down, I knew why. I wasn’t ready to bring him into this world—not like this. I ended up having a C-section, and when I saw him for the first time, I was overwhelmed—not with joy, but with the most profound sadness. He deserved the best mother, and yet he met the most broken version of me.

From the depths of my soul, I whispered, I’m sorry.

I’m sorry you won’t have the family I dreamed of giving you.

I’m sorry you’ll grow up between two households.

I’m sorry I must share you with someone awful.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

But that apology sparked something in me—a need, a compulsion to get better and be the best mother my son deserves.

In the weeks that followed, I chose to fight for myself. I sought professional help. I went on medication. I did therapy. I went to the gym regularly, not just to regain my strength, but to reclaim my confidence. I leaned on the people who truly loved me, and with the guidance of my therapist, I found the courage to leave.

Starting over at my age and as a single mom was terrifying. My entire identity had been tied to my marriage. I had no hobbies of my own, no sense of who I was outside of him. Even our friends were our friends. And beyond the grief, I carried shame—the shame of choosing the wrong person, of building a life on something that crumbled so easily. That chapter of my life was so dark that it still amazes me how I managed to pull myself out of it.

But I did.

A year has passed, and I’m in a much better place. I’ve built a good life for my son and me. I took up running and other sports. I went back to school to become a therapist. I do whatever it takes to keep myself busy. I realized that I was stronger than I gave myself credit for.

Some days, I feel hopeful—excited, even, for what the future holds. Other days, the weight of betrayal still lingers.

Why does being cheated on cut so deeply? People try to comfort me by saying that even Beyoncé got cheated on. But that never made me feel better. If anything, it’s proof that no matter how beautiful, accomplished, or devoted you are, betrayal is still possible.

For a long time, that terrified me and kept me up at night—the thought that I might be betrayed again. That I might pour my heart into someone only to be made to feel inadequate and replaceable. Again.

But therapy taught me something valuable: Betrayal says more about the betrayer than it does about the betrayed.

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I used to search for flaws in myself, trying to justify what he did. But it was never about me. His inability to be faithful wasn’t a reflection of my worth as a partner.

I also learned that love, no matter how deep, doesn’t guarantee loyalty. Not everyone loves the way you do. No matter how much you give, you cannot control another person’s choices—or prevent heartbreak. Some things are simply out of your hands.

But what is in your hands is how you rise from it.

My healing journey is far from over. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to love or trust fully again. But for now, I’ll savor the quiet nights and the lazy mornings. I’ll enjoy the peace I fought so hard to earn.

This morning, I watched my baby wake up. I got to be the first person to hug him. I smiled as his eyes adjusted to the morning light. Maybe I’m just an optimist, but I consider myself lucky. Despite everything.

And when love does find me again, I’ll be ready—not because I need someone to complete me, but because I’ve learned how to stand whole on my own.

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Arya Uy, 29, is a graduate student at De La Salle University-Manila and a mother to a 1-year-old boy.