My husband bought an apartment for his mistress right below ours. They lived together for four years without my knowledge… until one day everything came to light.

One afternoon, while I was watering the plants on the balcony, I suddenly saw my husband coming up from the floor below. He was leaving a strange apartment, as casually as someone arriving home. I was surprised, but thought maybe he was visiting a friend or associate.

Days later, at the same time, I saw him leave again. This time he was carrying a bag of food, his face full of tenderness and joy… expressions he hadn’t shown me in a long time. A painful suspicion began to grow inside me.

I decided to investigate. The building guard hesitated at first, but eventually confessed:
“Mr. Rodrigo visits 904 a lot… a young woman who has been renting there for years lives there.”

I felt my soul freeze. 904 was right below my apartment. My heart was beating so hard it felt like it was breaking my chest. Could it be that for four years my husband had been living another life, with another woman, right under my feet, while I walked every day on that nest of betrayal without realizing it?

That night, using the excuse of delivering a “wrong” package, I rang the doorbell at 904. A beautiful young woman opened the door, startled to see me. And behind her, I clearly saw Rodrigo sitting on the sofa, his familiar sandals perfectly positioned on the floor.

In that instant, my world collapsed. He stood up nervously, stuttering:
“Isabel… let me explain…”

I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice trembling but laced with rage:
“Explain what? For four years, down here, you’ve lived like this! Was I your legitimate wife… or just the shadow hiding your sin?”

Silence filled the small apartment. The mistress lowered her head; Rodrigo was sweating, unable to look at me. At that moment, I knew our marriage was over. A betrayal like that is unforgivable.

I returned home and slammed the door, as if cutting the last chains. That night, he didn’t dare return. The phone rang incessantly, but I didn’t answer.

The next morning, as I was gathering my things, my mother-in-law, Doña Carmen, appeared with a stern expression:
“Do you really want to make a scene? All men have their indiscretions. Rodrigo loves you, he loves the children. He bought that apartment just to keep him discreet. If you make a fuss, the whole family will be made a fool of.”

I felt a lump in my throat and asked:
“So you knew all along?”

She looked away and murmured:
“Four years ago. I advised him, but he didn’t listen. An intelligent woman knows to close her eyes to protect her home.”

I burst into a bitter laugh. Everyone had conspired to hide the truth from me: my husband, my mother-in-law… everyone. Only I had lived blindly, right on top of that nest of infidelity.

That night, I sat across from Rodrigo. He knelt, took my hands, and begged:
“Forgive me. I’ll break up with her, I’ll sell that apartment. Think of the children, the family. Give me a chance.”

I looked into the eyes I had once trusted throughout my youth, and saw only an abyss of lies. I replied coldly:
“Don’t worry. I’ll set you free. But be prepared for court. I’ll fight for custody of my children and assets. You won’t get away that easily.”

My words were the final blow, cutting a rotten marriage to its roots. Rodrigo was petrified; Doña Carmen was speechless. They never imagined that the docile woman they knew would be able to stand up and, firmly, cut it all off at once.