A Confuse Cheater Episode 5 (final episode)

I still remember that evening like a curse etched into my memory.

The sky was already darkening when I left work, my chest heavy with a strange unease I couldn’t explain. Chioma had been unusually quiet that day—no calls, no threats, no angry messages. Instead of relief, her silence made me restless. My heart kept whispering that something was wrong.

When I got close to my house, I noticed the gate was open.

That alone was strange. My wife never left the gate open.

I parked the car slowly, my hands trembling as I stepped out. From outside, I could already hear voices inside the living room. One of them was my wife’s soft, shaky, broken. The other voice froze the blood in my veins.

Chioma.

My legs refused to move, but my body dragged itself forward anyway. As I stepped into the living room, the sight before me shattered everything I had built with lies.

Chioma was standing in front of my wife.

My wife sat on the couch, her face buried in her palms, her shoulders shaking as she cried uncontrollably. Tears soaked her wrapper. Her eyes were red, swollen, lifeless.

Chioma turned when she saw me.

“This is him,” she said coldly. “Your husband.”

The room went silent.

My wife slowly lifted her head and looked at me. That look… I will never forget it. It wasn’t anger. It wasn’t shouting. It was disappointment mixed with heartbreak so deep it felt like death.

“Raymond,” she whispered, “is everything she said true?”

My mouth opened, but no words came out.

Chioma didn’t wait for my answer.

“He told me he was single,” she continued. “He said he had no wife, no children. We dated for two years. Two years of my life.”

My wife screamed.

It was a raw, painful sound like something tearing inside her. She stood up abruptly, clutching her chest as if she couldn’t breathe.

“You left me alone with sick children,” she cried. “You lied to my face every day. You slept beside me while another woman owned your heart.”

I dropped to my knees.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice cracking. “I made a mistake. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”

Chioma laughed bitterly.

“A mistake?” she said. “You don’t destroy two women’s lives by mistake.”

She turned to my wife.

“He promised me marriage,” Chioma said. “He promised me forever.”

That was the final blow.

My wife staggered back, holding onto the wall for support. Her tears stopped suddenly, replaced by something far worse emptiness.

“Get out,” she said quietly.

I crawled toward her. “Please. For the children. I will change. I will end everything.”

She shook her head slowly.

“The man I married is dead,” she said. “You buried him with your lies.”

Without another word, she walked into the bedroom.

I stayed on the floor, numb, listening as she packed her things. Drawers opening. Clothes being folded. My children’s small voices asking questions.

“Mummy, where are we going?”

Her voice broke as she answered them.

“We’re going somewhere safe.”

When she came out, she was holding two bags. My children stood beside her, confused, scared, holding onto her wrapper.

I stood up and blocked the door.

“Please,” I begged. “Don’t do this.”

She looked straight through me.

“You didn’t think of us when you were with her,” she said. “Don’t think of us now.”

She took the children’s hands and walked past me.

The door closed behind them.

That was the sound of my marriage collapsing.

I turned to Chioma, hoping foolishly that at least she would still be there.

But she was already walking away.

“Chioma,” I called out. “Please. I lost everything.”

She stopped at the door and turned back one last time.

“You lost it the day you chose to lie,” she said. “Don’t call me again.”

She left.

Silence filled the house.

The house that once echoed with laughter now felt like a grave. I walked into the bedroom and sat on the bed. My wife’s side was empty. The children’s toys were gone. Even the air felt different—cold, heavy, accusing.

That night, I slept alone.

Days turned into weeks.

My wife refused to answer my calls. When she finally sent a message, it was only one line:

“I’m filing for divorce. Don’t come looking for us.”

Chioma blocked me everywhere.

At work, I lost focus. My business began to crumble. Clients noticed my absence. My mind was never present. Every success I once had meant nothing without my family.

At night, I sat in darkness, replaying every moment the lies, the excuses, the choices.

I lost my wife. I lost my children. I lost Chioma. I lost myself.

Now I live alone in a big, quiet house filled with regrets.

And every night, the silence reminds me of one painful truth:

Some mistakes don’t come with second chances.

I regreted ever cheating....