I remember those days like they were yesterday.
The high school corridors, the laughter ringing through the halls, the shared dreams, and the shared classes.
It was where everything began.
The day I met her, my wife, she was radiant, her eyes sparkled with a zest for life that I'd never seen before.
She was full of energy, always buzzing around with a smile that could light up even the darkest room.
I was drawn to her instantly, her spirit was simply infectious.
And then there was my best friend.
We were inseparable, joined at the hip, one might say.
We shared everything from comic books to deep secrets.
We were there for each other during the highs and lows, through rejections and triumphs, heartaches and happiness.
We were more than friends, we were brothers.
The three of us, we were an odd trio.
We went to high school together, had the same classes, even shared the same lunch table.
It was a bond that we thought was unbreakable.
We promised to always have each other's back, to be there through thick and thin.
We were young, naive, and full of dreams.
When the school bell rang signaling the end of the day, we'd often find ourselves hanging out at our favorite spot by the old oak tree, talking about everything under the sun.
It was our safe haven, the place where we could be ourselves, away from the judging eyes of the world.
I remember those days with a bittersweet smile.
Little did I know that the bonds we were forging were not as ironclad as I thought.
Little did I know that the trio would one day break apart.
But at that moment, we were just three teenagers, trying to navigate the labyrinth of adolescence, unaware of the twists and turns life had in store for us.
The years rolled by, we grew up and moved on from the high school corridors to life's grand stage.
It was a time of change, a time of growth.
My best friend left for college, his eyes full of dreams, ready to tackle the world of business.
My wife, on the other hand, decided to join her family's pawn shop.
She was always good with people, her knack for communication, and her sharp mind made her perfect for the job.
The dynamics among us subtly began to shift.
The void created by the physical distance between my best friend and us was noticeable.
But we tried our best to fill it with phone calls, emails, and occasional visits.
The bond we shared was strong, or so I thought.
As for me and my wife, we continued to grow closer.
We tied the knot in a small, intimate ceremony.
We were both 24, young and in love.
The future seemed so bright, so full of promises.
We rented an apartment in the heart of the city, a small cozy place that we could call our own.
I remember the day we moved in, the air was filled with an unspoken excitement.
We were starting a new chapter of our life, and we were doing it together.
The apartment, though small, was filled with our shared dreams and hopes.
We were building our life, piece by piece, adding bits of ourselves in every corner.
The first few years of our marriage went by in a blur.
It was filled with laughter, shared meals, late-night talks, and dreams of a beautiful future.
We were a team, we supported each other, celebrated each other's victories, and stood by one another during the tough times.
Life was beautiful, and we were living it to the fullest.
And then, one day, everything changed.
I began to notice a subtle shift in my wife's behavior.
She seemed distant and preoccupied.
I asked her if something was bothering her, but she brushed it off, blaming it on stress at the pawn shop.
I believed her, I had no reason not to.
But deep down, a nagging feeling began to take root.
Something was off, but I didn't know what.
Little did I know, a huge storm was just around the corner.
The change in my wife continued.
Her laughter became less frequent, her smiles seemed forced, and our conversations started to feel stilted.
I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew something was not right.
It was as if she was slipping away, and I was desperately trying to hold on to her, to us.
One day, while cleaning the house, I stumbled upon an old photograph of us, taken during our high school days.
We looked so young, so carefree.
It was a stark contrast to our current reality.
I missed those times, I missed her.
The photograph in my hand sparked a train of thoughts.
I found myself thinking about our shared past, our memories, our high school days, and my best friend who was now miles away.
The nostalgia was overwhelming.
As I looked at the photograph, my mind wandered to my best friend's fiancé.
She was a charming woman, who owned a pet shop.
It was a dream come true for her, something she had always wanted to do.
Her father had financed the whole endeavor.
She seemed happy, content.
I found myself wishing the same for my wife.
Around the same time, I noticed my wife spending more and more time on her phone.
She would quickly put it away when I entered the room, her face flushed.
I asked her about it, but she shrugged it off, saying it was just work-related.
I wanted to believe her, but something didn't feel right.
A sense of unease started to settle within me.
After weeks of observing my wife's strange behavior, and numerous sleepless nights, I decided to hire a private investigator.
I felt guilty, felt like I was betraying her trust.
But I wanted to know what was going on with her, I didn’t have time to follow her around.
I needed to know what was happening with her, why was she drifting away.
Was it something I did?
Was it something I didn't do?
The day I hired the investigator, I felt a strange mix of emotions.
There was guilt, but there was also a sense of relief.
Maybe, finally, I could get some answers, maybe I could fix whatever was wrong.
But I was also scared, scared of what I might discover.
As I handed over the details to the investigator, I had no idea what I was about to uncover.
The truth was about to unfold, and it was nothing like I had ever imagined.
Days turned into weeks.
Each day was a new roller coaster of emotions.
I waited anxiously for the investigator's report, my mind filled with a thousand different scenarios.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared me for the truth.
One afternoon, as I sat in my office, I received a call from the investigator.
His voice was grave, and I felt a chill run down my spine.
He asked me to come to his office, said he had something to show me.
As I drove to his office, my heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a lump in my throat.
He welcomed me into his office, a grim look on his face.
He handed me a file.
As I opened the file and saw what was inside, my world shattered.
There were photos, multiple photos, of my wife and my best friend.
The photos were candid, showing them in intimate moments.
There was no doubt about it, my wife was having an affair with my best friend.
The shock was too much to bear.
My hands trembled as I shuffled through the photos.
I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, and I found it hard to breathe.
The investigator continued with his revelations.
He told me that the affair had been going on for a while, even during our high school days.
This information came from one of my wife's close friends who, wracked with guilt, had decided to come forward.
I felt a sharp pang of betrayal.
My best friend, the one person I trusted the most, had betrayed me.
And my wife, my life partner, had betrayed me too.
It was as if the ground beneath me had given away, and I was free-falling into an abyss.
I couldn't believe what I was hearing, what I was seeing.
My mind was a whirl of questions.
Why did this happen?
How could they do this to me?
But there were no answers, just a numbing silence.
The drive back home was a blur.
As I walked into our apartment, everything seemed different.
The walls echoed with their betrayal.
My life as I knew it was over.
It was time to face reality and make some tough decisions.
I took a deep breath and gathered my thoughts.
I knew what I had to do.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number of a lawyer I knew through my work.
He was surprised to hear from me, but listened, as I explained the situation.
I told him I needed to file for divorce immediately.
It was a harsh conversation, filled with terms like "no-fault state" and "marital property," but it was necessary.
We discussed the ins and outs of divorce proceedings in Oregon and the complexities of the situation.
I explained that I didn't want anything from the divorce, no assets, no alimony.
I just wanted to sever all ties with my wife as soon as possible.
The lawyer was understanding and supportive.
He promised to start the process immediately and advised me to gather all the evidence I had of the affair.
The photographs, the testimonies, everything had to be compiled and documented.
It was a daunting task, but it had to be done.
The reality of the situation was harsh and unforgiving, but I had to face it head-on.
Once the call ended, I sat alone in the silence of our apartment.
The absence of my wife, who was still at work, made the apartment feel eerily quiet.
I realized that this was what my life would be like from now on - quiet, lonely.
But I also knew that it was better than living a lie.
I began to pack my things, my mind numb with shock and disbelief.
As I moved through the apartment, packing up my life, I couldn't help but think about the magnitude of the betrayal.
My best friend, my wife, the two people I trusted the most, had stabbed me in the back.
It was a harsh reality, but it was my reality now, and I had to deal with it.
The next day, I woke up early, a sense of determination fueling me despite the restless night.
I had the evidence from the private investigator neatly compiled, the photographs and videos painting a vivid picture of betrayal.
Alongside that, the confession of my wife's friend was a damning piece of information that I decided to reveal only at the right moment.
With everything in order, I decided to go public with the truth.
I knew this wasn't going to be easy, but I had to do it.
I couldn't bear the weight of this secret alone.
I needed to share it with the people who mattered to me.
I started with my family.
It was an emotional conversation, filled with shock, disbelief, and then anger.
They were just as hurt by the betrayal, having considered my wife as part of our family.
But they were supportive, promising to stand by me during this difficult time.
Then came her family.
That was a tougher conversation.
There was initial denial, an instinctive need to protect their own.
But the evidence was undeniable.
They were shocked, embarrassed, and deeply saddened by their daughter's actions.
I could hear the disappointment in their voices, but I also sensed a begrudging respect for my decision to come forward.
Lastly, I decided to confront my best friend.
I called him, my voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside me.
I told him I knew everything, about the affair, about the lies.
I told him about the evidence I had gathered and that I had already filed for divorce.
There was silence on the other end.
Then came the stuttered apologies, the pleas for forgiveness, the pathetic excuses.
But I was beyond caring.
I expected anger, indignation, maybe even denial.
But all I felt was a profound sense of disappointment.
This was the person I had trusted with my deepest secrets, shared my happiest moments with, and he had betrayed me in the worst possible way.
I ended the call with a simple message.
"Stay away from me.
Forever."
And with that, I severed a friendship that had lasted more than half of my life.
The day was draining, emotionally and physically.
But it was also liberating.
The truth was out there, and I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders.
Despite the heartbreak, there was also a sense of relief.
The worst was over, or so I thought.
Little did I know, the real struggle was just beginning.
Once the dust had settled from the revelations, it was time to face my wife.
The woman I had once promised to spend the rest of my life with had now become a stranger.
I chose the pawn shop, her workplace, as the location for our confrontation.
It was a public place, neutral ground, and I thought it best to keep any emotional outbursts at bay.
I walked into the pawn shop on a sunny afternoon.
I saw her behind the counter, engrossed in some paperwork.
For a moment, I just stood there, looking at her.
She looked the same, yet different.
She was still my wife, yet she wasn't.
It was a strange, surreal feeling.
I took a deep breath and approached the counter.
She looked up and her eyes met mine.
I saw a flicker of surprise, then worry, and finally, guilt.
She knew why I was there.
Without a word, I placed the divorce papers on the counter.
I watched as her eyes scanned the document, her face paling as the reality of the situation sunk in.
She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a mixture of fear and regret.
"I know," I said, my voice sounding strange to my ears.
I had thought about this moment, rehearsed it in my head countless times.
But now that it was here, all my rehearsed speeches seemed pointless.
"I know everything."
She opened her mouth to say something, probably to deny it, to explain, to apologize.
But I didn't want to hear it.
I held up my hand to stop her.
"Save it.
It doesn't matter anymore."
I turned around and walked out, leaving her standing there with the divorce papers.
It was a painful, heart-wrenching moment, but it was also the first step towards my new life.
A life without her, without the betrayal, without the lies.
With the painful confrontation behind me, it was time to begin the legal battle.
Divorces are never easy, and this was no exception.
Despite living in a no-fault state, the betrayal had colored everything, and every interaction became a battleground.
In Oregon, one doesn't have to prove that their spouse did something wrong to get a divorce.
The law simply requires a statement that the couple cannot get along.
But having a solid reason did help me on a personal level, providing a catharsis of sorts.
Meanwhile, I moved out of our shared apartment, a place teeming with memories that were now tainted.
I found refuge in my parents' home, a place of comfort and understanding.
It was strange to be back in my childhood room, a thirty-year-old man facing a life-altering situation.
But it was also a place of healing, a first step towards rebuilding my life.
The divorce moved swiftly.
With neither of us wanting anything from the other, the divorce was quick.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, but it was necessary.
I was starting over, leaving the past behind, and preparing for a new journey.
About 3 months after the divorce, my ex-wife left the pawn shop and moved away.
The fiancé of my ex best friend called off the wedding once she found out that my ex-wife and my ex best friend were having an affair.
Me, I am taking it one day at a time.