When I planned the perfect birthday surprise for my wife, Kate, I thought I was proving I still saw her — not just as a mom, not just as someone I failed to spend enough time with, but as the woman I chose twelve years ago. Instead, I ended up standing in my own living room, holding flowers that suddenly felt like they weighed a thousand pounds.
I told Kate I’d be away on a business trip so I could surprise her. I cooked her favorite meal, filled the house with peonies, dressed up, and picked up our daughter, Layla, early so she could be part of the surprise. We waited for hours. At nine, we finally heard the key turn.
Layla ran out yelling “Surprise!” — and that’s when I saw them.
Kate… and my brother, Tom. His hand on her waist. Her voice soft and intimate. The look they shared froze me.
They made excuses, pretended they’d just “run into each other,” but something felt wrong. After they left the kitchen, I checked the security footage.
There they were. Pulling up together. Kissing before getting out of the car.
It wasn’t a one-time mistake. It had been going on for a year — in my home, while my daughter slept down the hall.
The next day I confronted Tom. Then Kate. I filed for divorce and fought for custody. The footage — and Tom’s confession — made the judge’s decision simple.
Now it’s just me and Layla.