3 Stories about Cheaters Who Faced Karma

“What do we do now?” Sophia asked, sounding scared. “We can’t let him get away with this. He… told me to hide here so that you didn’t see me.”

Sophia’s words gave me a newfound strength. I wiped away my tears, feeling a new sense of determination. “I have an idea,” I said, already formulating a plan.

Meanwhile, oblivious to our plans, Daniel sat downstairs, enjoying his drink.

“Guess who?” Sophia teased Daniel in the living room, covering his eyes with her palms. Daniel was shocked. He thought Sophia had left. “What the hell? You were supposed to leave!” he said, panicking. I watched them from my hiding place upstairs. Everything was going according to Sophia and my plan.

“I’m tired of being a secret, Daniel,” Sophia declared boldly. “It’s me or her, and I want you to decide now!”

Daniel promised to ask for a divorce and drive Sophia home. I was hurt seeing my husband give up on marriage, but I had decided he didn’t deserve me.

He handed Sophia a blanket and asked her to hide in the car so that nobody saw her. But the person hiding in the backseat was me. Daniel thought I was still in the shower, but that was Sophia — a quick change of places while Daniel left to get the car keys.

In the car, Daniel wouldn’t stop talking about how I disgusted him, how ugly I looked, and that I wasn’t hot like Sophia. Under the blanket, I was holding my phone, recording everything. As soon as he started the car, I emerged from under the blanket.

He spun around to look at me. Sophia approached his window. He was shocked, realizing his dark secret was out.

“Thanks to Sophia’s evidence and my recording, I’ll take everything from you, including our business, Daniel!” I told him confidently.

Despite everything, he kept pleading with me, saying he could fix things. Well, you know what they say: once a cheater, always a cheater.

“Let’s not make a big deal out of this,” he tried to say, but we ignored him.

“He’s nothing to me now,” Sophia told me. We faced Daniel together one last time.

“You’ll get your divorce,” I said calmly. “I’ll get our business lawyer to draw up the papers. I’m sure she’ll be happy to do that. I hope you can afford her with what little you’ll have left when we’re through. Remember our prenup? And yeah, keep the car. You can live in it if you don’t find a place!” I said, turning my back on the man I once loved.

As Sophia and I walked away, hand in hand, I realized that despite the pain, I was not alone. We would rebuild our lives. We were stronger and wiser after facing the truth.

3. The ‘Ghost’ in Our House

One day, my son, Jake, was home early from school.

As he entered, he was met with soft tunes of Billie Holiday coming from my bedroom. What he didn’t know was that Herman, my second husband and also Jake’s stepfather, was there with Jezebel, his mistress.

“This is so naughty of us! What if you get caught?” Jezebel whispered to my husband, and Herman brushed off the risk, “She’s never home this early. We’ve got all morning.”

But then, the front door creaked open. Jake was back. They heard his footsteps and panicked.

“Who is it?” Jezebel asked Herman in a whisper.

“It can’t be my wife,” Herman said. “She told me she was working late. Quick, get—” But he didn’t get to finish as Jake’s voice cut him off.

“Herman? Are you here?” Jake asked, entering the bedroom. At that point, Herman knew he could no longer lie.

“What are you doing at home, Jake?” Herman asked.

“The school sent us home because of a lockdown scare. They thought there was a gunman on campus. Herman, who is this lady?” Jake asked, looking at Jezebel.

And you know what my husband did? He denied Jezebel’s presence. “Jake, you must be seeing things,” he said. “You’re still scared after what happened at your school.”

Jake looked again at Jezebel and said, “But I see a lady right there, Herman.”

Herman sighed and then pulled Jake closer. “Hey, buddy,” he said, softening a little. “Close your eyes and count to ten. It’ll disappear if you do that. And you see, if you can’t see the ghost, it can’t see you.”

I couldn’t believe Herman went as far as telling Jake to close his eyes and count to make the ‘ghost’ disappear. As Jake closed his eyes, Jezebel hid, and when he opened his eyes, she was gone, leaving him to believe he had magical powers.

“I made her disappear?” Jake exclaimed in joy.

“Of course! You got rid of the ghost. You’re a brave young man, Jake,” Herman assured him. Then, coaxing Jake to keep the encounter a secret, Herman allowed him unlimited screen time.

But that night at dinner, Jake shared his day, mentioning the ‘ghost’ he saw. “She was a lady with big, frizzy hair, Mom,” he said.

“She?” I repeated, looking at Herman. I knew Herman stayed at home all day as he was looking for jobs. Was he cheating on me? I would find out soon. It’s just that it would happen in a way I had never expected.

“He must be in shock, Grace,” Herman told me. “Go watch cartoons, Jake. You’re done with your dinner, right?”

After Jake left, Herman kept insisting the ghost was a result of Jake’s traumatic school experience. But I knew something was wrong.

“I’ll call the school and get Jake an appointment with the psychologist,” I told Herman. “Now that you’re not working, you can take him to the appointment.”

“I’m trying to find a job, Grace!” Herman almost yelled at me. “Don’t boss me around just because you support us!”

“I know. But maybe you should spend less time at that Moe’s Diner you visit often and help more with Jake,” I suggested stiffly.

Herman didn’t say much after that and promised to help me with Jake.

After dinner, as I was tucking Jake in bed, I said, “Talk to the counselor at school. It might help you understand what’s going on, honey, alright?”

“Okay, Mom,” Jake replied sweetly, wishing Herman and me good night.

“It’s for the best that we’re taking him to a doctor. My boy’s well-being is at stake,” I told Herman while we sat in the living room.

Herman again said it wasn’t needed, but I was adamant. “I’ll make an appointment with the psychologist. And I’m taking Jake there myself since you don’t want to!”

The next day, I was meeting Dr. Warren, who suggested regular visits to help Jake.

“Don’t worry,” Dr. Warren reassured me. “I think what’s happening with Jake is a classic case of Kleinian Projective Identification. It involves a child projecting feelings onto another or the world outside, often to make the other person experience what the projector is feeling, causing delusional behavior like Jake’s. We can deal with this.”

“I just want what’s best for Jake,” I said worriedly. “If you think you can help him, then we’ll do whatever it takes.”

I was so scared for my little boy. I just wanted Jake to be fine soon. After Dr. Warren’s appointment, I took Jake out for lunch. There, he saw a ghost again, this time in Jezebel, our frizzy-haired waitress.

When Jezebel dropped our food, I said nothing. Jake closed his eyes and began counting.

“It’s okay now, Jake, she’s gone,” I assured him.

Jake opened his eyes and focused on his ice cream. At that point, I had an idea. It was clear who the ‘ghost’ in my son’s life was. It was Jezebel from Moe’s Diner — the place my husband frequented.

“Jake, should we call Herman and ask him to join us for lunch?” I asked. “You think Herman will like it?”

Jake nodded unenthusiastically, and I smiled. “But my phone’s dead. I’ll ask the waitress if I can use hers. Alright? I’ll be right back.”

Approaching Jezebel, I said, “Hey. My phone’s almost flat. Can I use yours to make a quick call to my office?”

“No problem. Go right ahead,” she said, lending me her phone.

I dialed Herman’s number and got the shock of my life when the caller ID on Jezebel’s phone revealed “Loverman.” Shocked, I hung up quickly and returned to the table. But now the truth was out.

With a weak smile, I encouraged Jake to finish his food soon. I arranged a playdate for him and went home alone. Settling on the sofa, I reached for my phone and dialed a moving company.

Soon, the movers arrived and packed up Herman’s things. When Herman arrived, he was shocked. “Grace, what’s going on? What are these men doing with our things?” he asked, baffled.

I imitated the charade Herman had once played with our son. “Herman, what men? I don’t see any men. You must be seeing ghosts. Oh, and to be clear, those are not our things; they are your things.”

Herman’s face paled. The tables had turned. His voice quivered, “Grace, you must believe me. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. Look, I was wrong, but I—”

“I will never forgive you for what you did to my child,” I said, cutting him off. “The time for lies and infidelity is over. You know what you are to me now? A ghost!”

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