My Fiancé Sent Me a Cute Photo with His Dog, Unknowingly Exposing His Shocking Secret

I was having an ordinary lunch break—just like any other. I sat at my desk, sipped on my cup of coffee, and nibbled on a croissant. Just as I was about to pick up my work phone and call my mother to catch up, my phone pinged with a message notification.

Mitchell, my fiancé, had sent over an adorable photo of his dog, Buster. Buster was a large part of Mitchell's life, and he went everywhere with Buster, often coming over to my apartment for sleepovers when Mitch intended on doing just that.

"Look here, Sophie," I said to my colleague who shared the desk with me.

"Buster is adorable," she said, eating her salad. "But I'm glad you finally figured the whole thing out."

"Figured what out?" I asked, confused.

"Nina, come on," she said. "I thought that you were showing me something else—"

"What?" I interrupted her.

Sophie put her fork down and put her head on her desk. She sighed before taking a moment to choose her words. She seemed conflicted, and it sent shots of anxiety through my body.

What did she know? All I did was show her a photo of Buster.

"Look at the background," she said. "Where is that?"

I was confused. I hadn't noticed anything other than Buster's little face. So, now that I was forced to look at the photo with a pair of detective's eyes, I realized that Mitchell wasn't at home.

"I thought that Mitch was home, and that it was his den," I admitted to Sophie, who was hanging off her seat.

"And is it?" she asked.

"No."

And it wasn't. The room seemed much more feminine than my fiancé's house.

"Exactly," she said. "Look, Nina. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but I know that place. It's Carla's apartment."

Carla?

Carla was a co-worker of Mitchell's—someone he mentioned occasionally but always in passing, never anything that made me suspicious.

Until right now.

The realization that he might be cheating was overwhelming.

"Are you sure?" I asked Sophie, who had moved on to eating almonds from a jar.

She nodded slowly.

"You know that I live in the same building, right? I've seen Mitchell there more than once, Nina. I thought you knew and that you were okay with it. I mean, they do work together, so it's not that foreign for him to spend time there."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

I was dumbstruck. I couldn't understand why Sophie hadn't mentioned it to me at all. Sure, we were friends—maybe not best friends, but we did do things together pretty often.

From going to the movies to grabbing quick lunches to even Sophie staying with me for over a week while her plumbing was being redone. She had been at my engagement party. That was when she realized that she knew Carla anyway.

After all of that, I didn't understand why Sophie wouldn't just come out and tell me that my fiancé was constantly at another woman's home.

"I'm sorry, Nina," she said. "I just thought that he would tell you first, and that he would at least have the decency to be honest about it. Also, it wasn't my secret to tell."

I was determined to find out the truth. I left work early, claiming I had a dentist appointment later that evening, and drove straight to Carla's apartment building.

My mind raced because I had no idea what I was walking into. I wanted Sophie to be wrong. So wrong that she would have to apologize to me when we discovered the truth.

But, as I pulled into the parking lot, I realized there might have been some truth to the story. Because there, clear as day, was Mitchell's parked car.

Still, I wanted to catch him in a lie.

"Hi, honey!" he said cheerfully. "Didn't you just love the photo of Buster?"

"He's the cutest boy," I said. "What are you doing?"

I could hear the sound of football from the TV in the background.

"I'm just working from home," he said. "I have a bunch of reports due tomorrow and I needed to stay away from the hospital distractions. Why? What's up?"

"Nothing important," I said. "I just have a dentist appointment now, and wanted to check if you wanted to meet for dinner tonight."

Mitchell hesitated for a moment before replying.

"That sounds great," he said. "It's just that I really have to get this stuff done, so I don't think so."

"Okay, honey," I said as I walked up to Carla's door and knocked.

The door opened.

It was Mitchell, still talking to me on the phone. His smile faltered as he saw my face.

The moment hung heavy as Mitchell's smile vanished, replaced by a look of confusion and dread. He was caught off guard and was holding his phone loosely against his ear as if he had forgotten that he was still connected to me.

"Nina?" he asked. "What are you doing here?"

Ignoring him, I pushed past him into the apartment.

Carla's apartment.

The space was cozy, distinctly feminine, and filled with personal items that clearly belonged to a woman.

There was makeup, used glasses and mugs, and discarded shoes everywhere.

On a small table, I noticed leftover Chinese food, two wine glasses—one still with a deep lipstick stain—and a bottle of red wine half empty. And on the couch, was Buster, fast asleep with his back legs moving in his dreams.

It was getting clearer to me that this wasn't just a friendly visit.

Carla appeared from the hallway, her face pale with shock as she held onto the towel she was wrapped in.

"Nina?" she asked. "What are you doing here?"

I ignored her.

"You told me that you were working from home today, and now, I find you here?"

That's when I looked at Mitchell properly. He looked relaxed in Carla's apartment, wearing his sweatpants and walking around in socks. It was unnerving how natural he seemed here.

Mitchell's face turned red as he sat down on the couch and drank a glass of water that had been sitting on the coffee table.

After a few moments, he began to speak.

"Carla and I were just..."

But Carla cut him off, stepping forward, her voice shaking.

"We need to be honest here," she said. "You tell her, or I will."

My fiancé looked defeated, his shoulders slumped. He finally met my gaze, his eyes filled with regret and pain.

"Darling," he said. "I'm so sorry, I didn't want it to come out like this."

This was the moment that I had been dreading. The moment when Mitchell was about to tell me that he had been cheating with a woman who I had never considered competition.

I twisted my engagement ring around my finger, feeling the heat of betrayal as if it seared my skin through the ring.

Seeing my stunned silence allowed Carla to take control of the moment.

"It started a few months ago," Carla said. "It wasn't planned. We just grew closer and started spending more time together because we were partnered on projects at work. After a lot of long nights, something just clicked."

The room felt like it was spinning as the truth sunk in. I wanted to escape into a bubble bath, to let the steam and bubbles take over my senses—and dull them all.

"How could you?" I asked Mitchell.

Mitch tried to approach me, reaching out to touch me.

"I'm so sorry," he repeated. "I never meant to hurt you. I was going to end it. It doesn't mean anything. I swear."

I stepped back, recoiling from his touch. I turned away from him.

"You were going to end it? When? After the wedding? Or did you hope to marry Carla there on the day?" I asked, the sarcasm bitter in my voice.

Waking up from his sleep, Buster made sounds, filling the silence.

Suddenly, the apartment door swung open again. A man, rugged and clearly upset, stormed in.

"Carla, we need to talk. Right now!" he said, as if completely unaware of the situation he had just walked into.

Carla's face went white.

"Tom, what are you doing here?" she stammered.

Tom paused as if finally taking in the scene before him.

"So, the office rumors are true! You've been cheating on me with Mitchell."

The room erupted into chaos—Buster, now awake and barking because Mitchell was being cornered by Tom.

Carla flew in between her men and tried to separate them.

"Stop!" she shouted. "We can talk about this!"

I felt a nauseating mix of anger, sadness, and disbelief. I turned to leave, no longer able to stand the sight of my ex-fiancé, who had ruined both of our lives with his lies.

I left Carla's apartment.

As I walked past Mitchell's parked car, I left my engagement ring on the trunk. I was done with him and his lies.

There was absolutely no way that I could begin a life with that man.

Walking away, I was devastated. But at least I knew I was free of any lies and deceit. It was time for a new start.

Before going home, I decided to get a massage—if I was going to start off fresh, I needed to release the tension in my body.

What would you have done?

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My FIL Doubted I Had Given Birth to His Son's Child – The DNA Result Shattered Him

When Violet's father-in-law walks into their living room holding onto DNA test results—claiming that Mona, her daughter, isn't her husband's child—Violet begins to spiral. She pleads for her husband to take another test to prove her innocence, only for a series of secrets to come undone.

I always thought I knew what shock felt like—until the day my father-in-law, Ron, stood in our living room, his face twisted in contempt, holding a piece of paper that he claimed could shatter my world.

"You have to leave," he declared, his voice cold and sharp. "You and your daughter."

His eyes drilled into mine, gleaming with cruel satisfaction.

I stared at him, disbelief anchoring me to the spot on the couch, as I held Mona, my daughter, to my chest.

"What are you talking about, Ron? Why would we leave?" I asked him.

"That child isn't Jake's baby!" he spat out, thrusting a DNA test result at me. The room spun around me, the walls closing in. Ron shook the paper until it fell to the floor.

But how?

How could this be when I had never doubted the paternity of our little girl, Mona?

Since I joined the family, I have always struggled with Ron. He had always undermined me and refused to take me seriously.

Once, during a dinner just before we got married, Ron was especially harsh.

"Are you sure you want to marry this girl?" Ron asked Jake while carving into a roast chicken.

"Of course, he does," Stella, Jake's mother, said, passing around mashed potatoes.

"I'm sure, Dad," Jake said, clutching my hand under the table.

But Ron kept poking at me the entire evening; he questioned my intentions about marrying Jake. He wanted to know whether I was in it for the right reasons.

"Come on, Violet," he said. "It's okay to want to marry up, but you need to be honest and upfront about it. I know that Jake seems like an incredible man, and even better because of the money we have."

I was shocked. I almost let Ron break my spirit, and I tried to walk away from Jake and our relationship.

"I'm sorry," I told Jake one afternoon when he came over to my apartment.

"Sorry?" he asked, setting up his laptop to continue with his work.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," I said. "Your father truly despises me, and I don't think I can spend the rest of my life fighting for my position as your wife."

Jake's face fell, and I knew that I had hurt him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before going off on a tangent about how he would speak to Ron and settle his issues before I made any decisions about our future together.

"It's not just you in it, Violet," he said, moving to sit on the couch.

Despite Ron's drama, Jake and I got married without any interference on his part, and for the first few years, he seemed to understand that our relationship was based on more than just money.

But then, my mother-in-law began to get increasingly adamant that it was time for Jake and me to have children.