Mia's Garden

(TW: mentions of miscarriages, cheating)

They say that revenge is a dish best served cold, and I learned that the hard way the day I uncovered my husband’s betrayal. After fifteen years of marriage, I finally trusted my instincts.

For months, I had felt the distance between us growing—his late nights at “work,” the hushed conversations that abruptly ended when I walked into the room, and his dwindling interest in me. When I checked his location, my heart dropped: he was headed to a house just around the corner. A house belonging to my best friend, Laura. My heart sank. The betrayal I felt was overwhelming. 

As much as I wanted to confront him about it, I couldn’t find it within me to do so. I kept it a secret, just as he had done. But I didn’t know what to do with my rage. 

Jake and I met through mutual friends in college. He was a business major—charming, handsome, and effortlessly persuasive. After graduating, he became a top salesman at a local car dealership, a role that suited his magnetic personality perfectly. In contrast, I was his complete opposite: introverted and quiet, often feeling anxious in social situations. It was hard to believe someone like him would notice someone like me. 

We quickly fell in love. Me more than him. I was swept up by his finesse and felt fortunate he found me attractive. We married right after I graduated college as an art major. And not long after I graduated I got a job at the local middle school as an art teacher. That’s where I met Laura. She was the English teacher and we bonded over our shared love of Vonnegut. Laura and I have been friends almost as long as Jake and I have been married. This fact made the betrayal all the worse for me. I was betrayed by the two people I trusted the most in life.

To make matters worse, Jake and I never had children. I was incapable. It was the one thing I always wanted, to have a child I could call my own. I teach children every day and wish one of them was mine. I dreamt about having children. Jake and I tried a few times and it always ended in a miscarriage. It was devastating. And it left me with a void that could only be filled by teaching my students and even then, that never fully healed my wounds. 

On a quiet Saturday afternoon, I decided to finally create the garden I had always dreamed of. Jake had promised to help me with it, but somehow, we never got around to it. So, I headed to Lowe's and picked out seeds for a variety of flowers: forget-me-nots, black roses, and night-blooming jasmine. Each flower symbolizes the stages of grief and rage I was navigating.

I planted them in a small corner of our backyard, nestled among tall, majestic trees. The spot received just the right amount of sunlight while still offering some shade. As spring unfolded, my garden flourished.

All the while, I kept tabs on Jake. Every Friday afternoon, when he claimed he was off to a “business meeting,” I knew he was really heading to Laura’s house. I was aware of his secret, and with each flower that blossomed, my resolve grew stronger.

One day, Jake approached me while I tended to the garden. “Wow,” he said. “You finally did it.”

 I rolled my eyes before standing up, taking off my gloves. “Yes. I have. These forget-me-nots are perhaps my favorite,” I said, fingering the lovely petals. “You know what they represent?”

“No. What?”

I eyed him carefully. He looked so dumb. Everything about him that once made me idolize him now seemed to unravel to reveal a beast disguised as my husband. “Remembrance.” 

“I guess that makes sense, considering the name.”

He was clueless. Did he really think so little of me? That I wouldn’t one day find out his secret? Did he really think I was that dumb? It hurt me, like a stab to the gut. I could find it within me to forgive him and neither to confront him. 

“These roses, the black ones, represent betrayal. And those jasmines over there, they represent secrets.”

“Oh cool.” He nodded, hands in his pockets. 

“Don’t you want to know why I chose them?”

He looked at me, tilting his head. Then he smiled. “I wouldn’t know, Mia. I assume it's all some art project you’ve been working on.” 

I nodded slowly, then turned away, slipping my gloves back on as I descended into the dirt. Jake continued to ramble about work, his words filtering through one ear and out the other. I realized I no longer cared about what he had to say—or about him, for that matter. 

As spring burst into full bloom, so did my garden. Vibrant colors filled the space, and I found joy in purchasing outdoor furniture—a beautiful wooden table surrounded by chairs. I lined a stone pathway I had built myself with lanterns, their warm glow inviting and enchanting. But each purchase seemed to irritate Jake more and more. 

“You spend more time in that garden than you do with me,” he said one night during an argument. I found it rich that he complained about it so much, considering that it was his actions that caused my pursuit of finding meaning in something other than him. 

After my garden was finished, flowers in full bloom and fragrant and my table decorated nicely, I decided to invite some friends over for a dinner party. And I included Laura in that friend list. I devised a plan; I was going to expose Jake and Laura. I was done with him sleeping around on me. I was done playing oblivious housewife. 

Everyone gathered in my garden, showering me with compliments about its beauty. I served carbonara—a favorite of mine, reminiscent of my first date with Jake all those years ago. As the evening unfolded and laughter filled the air, I tapped my spoon against my wine glass, the lightness of the wine adding fuel to my resolve.

“I’m overjoyed to have you all here,” I said with a bright smile, waiting for the chatter to fade. “It fills me with joy to share the garden I’ve created—all by myself,” I added, shooting Jake a pointed glare. “But I have something important to share.”

I cleared my throat and focused on Laura. She was stunning—tall, statuesque, and impeccably put together, even as a mother of four. Her athleisure looked effortless, her hair and makeup flawless. I couldn’t fathom when she found the time for such perfection, and it stoked a simmering anger within me. She had everything—a lawyer husband, a beautiful family—everything I had longed for but could never have because of my scarred uterus. Why did she have to invade my life like this?

I inhaled sharply. “A couple of months ago, I discovered something about two people at this table.” Eyes darted around, and Jake’s smile faded as he realized he was caught. Laura’s gaze shifted to him, confusion creeping into her expression. I tightened my grip on my wine glass. “I had my suspicions, and they were confirmed. My husband is sleeping with Laura.”

Gasps echoed. Shock painted everyone’s faces as Jake stood up, desperation etched across his features. “Mia… don’t.”

“Don’t what, Jake?” I replied quietly.

“Don’t do this.”

“Me? I’m not doing anything. You should’ve stopped before it ever happened.”

“Mia,” Laura began, but I cut her off with a laugh. She stared at me, disbelief etched across her face.

“Laura, trust me, there’s nothing you can say to make me back down.”

“Well this is…quite the way to expose the affair,” said Fred, one of my neighbors who was also a teacher. 

“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” My eyes darted back and forth between Laura and Jake, who both stared at me in astonishment. Laura bowed her head, her face flushed of all color. Jake shook his head. “You broke vows, the both of you.” I felt a lump in my throat but I was stubborn; I wouldn’t let the tears fall. “And Jake, if you were so unhappy with me, then why not just divorce me and be done with it?”

“I’m not unhappy with you. This is a lie. You’re lying.”

“Lying? The guilt is written all over your face. And yours, Laura.”

Laura quickly got up from the table, leaving in tears. I watched her exit and felt nothing but fiery wrath towards her. “I’m a reasonable person, Jake. I would’ve understood if you wanted a divorce. God knows, I haven’t been the perfect wife and I…couldn’t give you children.”

My friend, Becca, who sat beside me reached a hand out to my arm. Her hand was soft and cool against my fiery skin. 

“It’s not true,” Jake insisted. 

“Then prove it. Prove that I’m lying.”

He said nothing. He sat there, defeated. 

“I’ve accepted the fact that I have been cheated on. But I will not tolerate it. I’m divorcing you, Jake. I have a lawyer.”

Everyone at the table turned to Jake, their faces a mix of anger and disappointment, heads shaking disapprovingly. He sat there, silent and visibly embarrassed, while I felt not a shred of guilt.

As the party wound down, friends trickled out, each pausing to offer their support. Once the last guest had gone, Jake and I remained at opposite ends of the table, the space between us heavy with tension.

“There had to be another way, Mia,” he said, his voice strained.

I shook my head, my lips pressed firmly together before I drained my wine glass. 

“We could have discussed this privately.”

“What would we have had to discuss?” I asked coldly, refilling my wine. 

“Laura is just a friend.”

I chuckled. “A friend you send nudes to? I looked through your phone.”

“Okay then she’s just a fling. She means nothing to me. It just sort of, I don’t know, it just sort of happened. Out of nowhere. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You did more than hurt me, Jake,” I said quietly. Frogs began to chirp down by the creek. The sun was getting low. Jake’s face was illuminated by a lantern next to his seat. “You betrayed me. You betrayed our marriage. You slept with my best friend.”

He was quiet. 

“How long?” I asked after a sip of wine.

“How long what?”

“How long has this affair been going on?”

“A few months. Since January. Mia, I swear it, had you confronted me privately I would’ve ended it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late to be sorry, Jake.”

“You can blame me when you’ve been practically absent for months! Spending all this time doing other things! First it was painting and then it was the garden. You left me no choice.”

“Oh, you had a choice. You could’ve discussed with me why I’ve been distant. We could’ve gone to counseling. We could’ve gotten through it. Instead, you went behind my back and betrayed me with Laura, of all people.”

He shook his head, defeated. 

“I’ve been absent because I am consumed with guilt that as I see my friends have their children and be fulfilled but I am barren. That I will never know the power of love between a mother and child. And you…you didn’t help. You never offered me any comfort when I would cry myself to sleep. You never told me that it’ll be okay and maybe we can adopt. You never offered up anything, any alternative to having a child naturally. It’s like you didn’t even care that the one thing I wanted in the world, I couldn’t have.” I allowed myself to cry. I allowed the tears to fall. I wiped them away with a napkin but they kept coming relentlessly down my cheeks. 

“I didn’t know how badly you wanted it.”

“Oh, bullshit you didn’t know. With all the doctor's appointments I had to be sure that I couldn’t bear a child. Christ, Jake, I’ve miscarried how many times? Three? And each time, you were just…so focused on your own work. I never received any comfort from you.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is true, Jake. Why would I lie about that?”

Again, he was silent. He gawked at me, as if he didn’t know what to say or how to respond. He was out of a defense. His charm had faded. 

“I immerse myself in art and creativity because it brings some meaning to my life. I share my love of art with other people’s children because it fills a void in me. I immersed myself in this garden in hopes of recovering from the trauma you’ve given me.”

“It’s not that serious, Mia, it’s just a fling!”

“A fling that has lasted months. In secret.”

“Well of course I wouldn’t tell you.” He snorted. 

“That’s the point, Jake. We don’t talk about anything. It’s like we’re two strangers living in the same house. And it’s not that I haven’t tried to be closer to you. I cook for you, I clean up after you, I practically worship you and you…” My voice faded off. Tears were in full force now. My heart felt like it was being ripped out of my chest. “You betrayed me.”

He swallowed hard. He shook his head and stood up from the table. “This could’ve been done differently. How am I supposed to look any of these people in the eye again? Now that they know what I’ve done. I mean, they all looked at me like I was a murderer.”

“Because you may as well be, Jake,” I sobbed. “You’ve murdered my ability to ever trust you again. You’ve taken away my ability to love you because how could I possibly continue loving a man who slept with my best friend while I was in pain and needed comfort?”

“So you’re serious then. You’re divorcing me.”

“Oh, I am so serious. And after it’s all said and done, I never want to hear from you again.”

Jake stared at me, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened as if he couldn't quite process the reality of the situation. I could see the confusion swirling in his mind, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he truly understood the gravity of his actions. Did he grasp the deep wound he had inflicted upon me?

Every moment we had shared—the laughter, the intimacy, the plans we made—felt like shards of glass now, each one cutting deeper into my heart. I searched his face for any sign of remorse or understanding, but all I found was a man trapped in his own turmoil, perhaps unable to confront the pain he had caused.

Did he realize that this wasn’t just about betrayal; it was about shattered trust and the loss of a future we once envisioned together? I had thought our love was unbreakable, yet here we were, standing at the edge of a chasm he had created. My heart raced, a tempest of emotions swirling within me—hurt, anger, and a sense of betrayal that threatened to consume me.

As I searched his face for answers, I felt the weight of my own pain pressing down on me, and I knew this moment would forever alter the course of our lives.

“So that’s that,” he sighed and made his move towards the house. “You’ve made up your mind.”

“No, Jake. You made my mind up for me.”

He sneered as he brushed past me towards the house, leaving behind a scent of cedar and lavender. And I sat at the table, drinking the last of my wine, staring at a bouquet of black and red roses. Black for betrayal and red for love. And I laughed and then wept until my tears dried up and the wine was gone.

I got up and walked back inside the house—a place that would never feel like home again. It was haunted by echoes of a seemingly happy marriage, filled with memories now tainted by betrayal. Everything felt broken, yet somehow I remained intact. Just like my garden, I would find a way to thrive without Jake. I would learn to trust again, and maybe even love again, in time. The path ahead might be uncertain, but I knew I had the strength to bloom anew. Just like my flowers, I would blossom and be beautiful and I didn’t need a husband for me to feel that way. 

In the end, I suppose that’s what Jake’s betrayal taught me: that sometimes, the most painful experiences can lead to profound growth. His actions shattered my trust and forced me to confront the fragility of our relationship. I realized that I had been living in a comfortable illusion, believing that love alone could shield us from harm. But now, I understand that true strength comes from within.

Through the heartbreak, I discovered my own resilience. I learned that I am capable of standing on my own, of nurturing my passions and dreams, even in the face of adversity. Jake’s betrayal, while devastating, became a catalyst for transformation. It pushed me to reflect on what I truly wanted in life and how I deserved to be treated.

This journey won’t be easy; I know there will be moments of doubt and lingering pain. Yet, with each step forward, I am reclaiming my sense of self. I am learning to trust my instincts and embrace vulnerability, knowing that love, when it comes again, will be built on a foundation of honesty and mutual respect. In that way, Jake’s betrayal has become not just a scar, but a lesson—one that will guide me toward a brighter future.