My Husband Left Me for His Mistress When I Ended Up in a Wheelchair But I Refused to Let Him Take Our Daughter Too — Story of the Day

I thought my husband would stand by me no matter what. But the night I walked in on him and my best friend, my world shattered. I fled into the storm, blinded by tears—never seeing the sharp turn ahead.

I had always considered myself happy. I had a loving husband, a daughter I adored, and a best friend I trusted completely. My life felt like a perfect picture—cozy dinners, laughter at the table, kisses before bed.

Mark was my rock. He always knew how to make me laugh, even on my worst days.

"Kate, don’t stress. What’s the worst that can happen? Dinner burns? We order pizza. Problem solved."

Sophie, our six-year-old daughter, was pure joy. She loved bedtime stories, caramel ice cream, and our spontaneous dance parties.

"Mom, twirl me! Higher!" she giggled, spinning in my arms.

"Okay, but if I fall, you’re carrying me to bed," I joked, making her laugh even harder.

Mark used to shake his head. "Two troublemakers. I don’t stand a chance in this house."

We were a team, a perfect trio. Or so I thought.

And then there was Sarah. My best friend. The person I trusted with everything.

When she told me she didn’t want to celebrate her birthday, I figured she was just in a mood. But a birthday without a celebration? That felt wrong.

So, I decided to surprise her. I bought her favorite chocolate cherry cake, smiling to myself.

She’s going to roll her eyes and say, “Kate, you’re ridiculous.”

I parked in front of her house, but something felt off. The door was ajar.

“Sarah?” I called, stepping inside.

Silence. I took a few more steps and stopped.

Mark was on her couch. His hand rested on her lower back. Their fingers intertwined. His face... as close to hers. Too close. The air left my lungs.

“Kate...” Mark shot up, pale.

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Wait, just...”

Their voices blurred, muffled. My heartbeat roared in my ears. The cake slipped from my fingers, landing with a soft thud.

I turned and ran. Outside, rain lashed against my skin as I fumbled with my keys. My hands trembled so hard I could barely fit them into the ignition.

“Breathe, Kate. Just breathe.”

The engine roared to life. My chest heaved. My vision blurred.

I pressed my foot to the gas. Streetlights smeared into streaks of gold.

Sharp turn sign. Too late. Tires skidded. A violent, crushing force.

Blackness.

***

I woke up in a hospital bed. My body felt foreign, broken, and unresponsive. I tried to move, but something was wrong…

"Kate," came the calm voice of the doctor. "You need to know…"

His words burned like fire. Paralysis of the lower body. A wheelchair. The possibility of recovery, but no guarantees.

I couldn’t understand how this was possible. How could I not walk anymore?

Panic gripped my throat. And then I saw her.

Sophie stood by the door. Her eyes were huge, filled with fear and pain. She ran to me, throwing her arms around me, and burying her face in my shoulder.

"Mommy…"

I held her, as tightly as I could.

Mark stood there. His face was distant, cold, devoid of any regret. I looked at him and, for the first time, felt real fear.

"We’ll get through this," I whispered, because I had to believe it. I had to.

He exhaled, long and heavy. "Kate…"

I asked Sophie to go play with her teddy bear in the hallway. A kind nurse offered to stay with her for a few minutes.

Mark finally continued. "I can’t do this anymore."

The world stopped.

"What?"

"I’m leaving."

No apologies. No remorse. No hesitation. Just a simple statement of fact.

I clenched the sheets so tightly my fingers turned white. "For her?"

He didn’t answer.

"I’ll take Sophie for now," he added, his tone dry. "We’ll decide the rest later."

Then he simply turned and walked away. I was left alone. Tears streamed silently down my face.

I had to get back on my feet. For Sophie.

***

Rehabilitation was hell. That was when Alex entered my life.

He was my physical therapist, coming every day and teaching me how to move. I was like a child learning to walk for the first time. He was kind and patient, but he never let me give up.

"Again, Kate. You can do this."

But I couldn’t.

I was angry. At myself. At my husband. At Alex, who kept demanding that I focus on my legs when all I could think about was betrayal and how much I wanted to drown in self-pity.

A week of failed therapy passed. Then Sophie came back.

She wasn’t just happy—she was glowing. She ran around the room, and jumped on the bed, her long hair spilling over her shoulders, and her voice filled with pure excitement.

"Mom, you won’t believe it! We went to the amusement park!" She plopped down in front of me, her eyes sparkling. "Dad let me ride the biggest roller coaster, and Aunt Sarah bought me the biggest cotton candy!"

Her words hit me like a hammer. Aunt Sarah.

I forced myself to smile, even though there was a lump in my throat.

"That sounds wonderful, sweetheart."

"Mom, can we go together next time?" she grabbed my hand enthusiastically.

I wanted to say "yes."

But I had barely learned how to get in and out of my wheelchair by myself. Doing basic household tasks was an exhausting challenge. The thought of going anywhere in this chair felt unbearable, impossible.

I wanted to promise her that I would run beside her, laugh with her, hold her hand as she screamed with joy on the rides. But I couldn’t. My legs didn’t move. My legs didn’t exist in the world she was living in.

Sophie waited. Her big eyes looked up at me with hope, and it burned more than any words ever could.

I looked away. "I don’t know, sweetheart."

Disappointment flickered in her eyes. She gently let go of my hand, her shoulders sinking.

"Oh… well, maybe some other time," she whispered.

That evening, Mark called.

"Sophie’s doing great with me," his voice was calm, certain, as if he had already decided everything for us. "I think she should live here."

I gripped the phone. "You didn’t even ask me."

"Kate, be honest. It’s hard for you. Sophie deserves a normal childhood."

I almost screamed. "And you think I can’t give that to her?"

Mark sighed, as if he was speaking to a child who refused to understand something obvious.

"You see it yourself. I’ll pick her up tomorrow—she has a dentist appointment and then a birthday party. Or do you want to take her yourself?"

I clenched my jaw. He didn’t wait for my response. He hung up.

***

The next morning, Sophie left. When Alex arrived, I met him with a cold stare.

"I’m done."

He was surprised, but not shaken.

"Kate, it’s normal to be exhausted. But not now. You’ve come so far."

"And for what?" My voice cracked, hysteria creeping in. "For what? To watch my daughter have the time of her life with my ex and his mistress? To know she would rather be with them than with me? To keep staring at my legs, waiting for them to magically start working again?"

Alex pressed his lips together. "Sophie loves you. But you need time."

"She needs a mother who can walk."

He let out a heavy sigh. "She needs a mother who doesn’t give up."

"I can’t do this anymore," I whispered.

Alex looked at me for a long moment, his eyes full of understanding.

"Okay."

I frowned. "Okay?"

"If you want to give up, I can’t stop you."

He stood up. "But if you ever need my help again, you know where to find me."

Then he left. I sat by the window and watched as the rain began to fall.

***

The next day, my mother arrived. I hadn’t invited her. I hadn’t even told her what was happening. I suspected Alex had found her number and called her.

She walked into the room without asking permission and sat beside me.

"My sweet girl," she gently took my hand, the way she used to when I was little and scared. "Everything will be alright."

I didn’t answer.

"The doctors say you need to believe in yourself."

I let out a dry laugh. "I don’t believe in anything anymore, Mom."

She sighed, stroked my hand, and without another word, opened her laptop.

On the screen, I saw myself as a child. Running on a beach, laughing, falling into the sand, getting up again, running toward my mother, who lifted me into the air and spun me around.

I stared at the screen in shock. "What is this?"

Mom smiled.

"Your childhood. This was the time when I didn’t have the strength to lift you. I had cancer. I was recovering from chemotherapy."

I shivered.

"I remember that time… but I didn’t know you were sick. You always seemed so strong. You just… started wearing that scarf everywhere. But I never knew."

She looked at me with soft but steady eyes.

"When your father died, I got sick. The doctors told me my chances were fifty-fifty."

"But you recovered."

"Because I saw your eyes," she squeezed my hand. "I didn’t want to betray your happiness."

I never knew. She gently brushed a strand of hair from my face.

"And Sophie… he wants to take her from me," I whispered.

"Honey, I’ll take care of Sophie. Until you’re back on your feet. And that will be soon. I believe it."

She winked. "And Alex… I think he believes in you too."

I suddenly saw my mother in a completely new way, and in that moment, I realized—if she could do it, so could I. That night, I called him.

"I’m coming back to rehab."

"I knew you would," he said.

***

The days that followed were brutal. But Sophie and my mom were there, and that gave me the strength to push forward.

I fell. Alex caught me. I tried to move. Again and again.

"If you need me outside of this, I can help with Sophie. Your mom deserves a break sometimes too."

I looked up at him, something warm and unexpected stirring inside me.

"Is this your way of asking me out?"

He chuckled. Then came my first step. Then my second.

A month later, I threw Sophie a birthday party. I stood beside her. Without a wheelchair.

Alex took my hand. Mark watched from a distance. But I never looked back.

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