“My Ex-Husband Cheated for Years. I Broke Down When Our Son Said: ‘Mom, He Wants to Say Goodbye'”

I met John when I was just 17. He was charming, funny, and seemed to have his life together. We fell in love quickly and got married when I was 19, right after I finished nursing school. My parents were not thrilled; they wanted me to go to college and build a career. But I was young and in love, and I thought John and I could conquer the world together.

For the first few years, things were good. We had our son, Michael, when I was 21. John worked as a mechanic, and I took a job at a local clinic. We weren’t rich, but we were happy—or so I thought.

When Michael was about 10, things started to change. John became distant and irritable. He would come home late, often with flimsy excuses about extra work or helping out a friend. I tried to believe him, but deep down, I knew something was wrong.

It was around this time that my mother-in-law suggested I consider working abroad. She had a friend who had moved to Italy and found a good job as a nurse. The money was much better than what I was making here, and we were struggling financially. After much deliberation, I decided to go. It was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made, leaving Michael behind with John and my mother-in-law.

I moved to Italy and started working at a hospital in Rome. The work was demanding, but the pay was good. I sent money home every month and visited as often as I could. But every time I came back, things seemed worse between John and me. He was even more distant, and Michael seemed to be caught in the middle of our strained relationship.

One day, after about five years of working in Italy, I got a call from Michael. He was crying and could barely speak. “Mom,” he said, “Dad wants to say goodbye.” My heart sank. I knew something terrible had happened.

I flew back to the States immediately. When I arrived, I found out that John had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. He had only a few weeks left to live. Despite everything, I felt a pang of sadness for the man I had once loved.

John asked to see me alone one evening. He looked frail and weak, a shadow of the man he used to be. “I’m sorry,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I cheated on you for years. I didn’t deserve you.”

I felt a mix of anger and sorrow. All those years of suspicion and doubt were confirmed in that moment. But there was no time for anger; John didn’t have much time left.

Michael and I stayed with him until the end. He passed away quietly one night, holding our son’s hand.

After John’s death, Michael and I tried to pick up the pieces of our lives. It wasn’t easy. The betrayal still stung, and the financial burden was heavy without John’s income. I continued working in Italy, but the visits home were filled with a sense of loss and unresolved pain.

In the end, there was no happy ending for us. John’s betrayal left scars that would never fully heal. But life goes on, and we do our best to move forward.