For thirty years, I believed I was adopted, abandoned by parents who couldn’t keep me. But a trip to the orphanage shattered everything I thought I knew.
I was three years old the first time my dad told me I was adopted. We were sitting on the couch, and I had just finished building a tower out of brightly colored blocks. I imagine he smiled at me, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
A girl playing with building blocks | Source: Pexels
“Sweetheart,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “There’s something you should know.”
I looked up, clutching my favorite stuffed rabbit. “What is it, Daddy?”
“Your real parents couldn’t take care of you,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “So your mom and I stepped in. We adopted you to give you a better life.”
“Real parents?” I asked, tilting my head.
A man playing with his daughter | Source: Pexels
He nodded. “Yes. But they loved you very much, even if they couldn’t keep you.”
I didn’t understand much, but the word “love” made me feel safe. “So you’re my daddy now?”
“That’s right,” he said. Then he hugged me, and I nestled into his chest, feeling like I belonged.
A man hugging his daughter | Source: Pexels
Six months later, my mom died in a car accident. I don’t remember much about her—just a blurry image of her smile, soft and warm, like sunshine on a chilly day. After that, it was just me and my dad.
At first, things weren’t so bad. Dad took care of me. He made peanut butter sandwiches for lunch and let me watch cartoons on Saturday mornings. But as I grew older, things started to change.
A man feeding his daughter | Source: Pexels
When I was six, I couldn’t figure out how to tie my shoes. I cried, frustrated, as I tugged at the laces.
Dad sighed loudly. “Maybe you got that stubbornness from your real parents,” he muttered under his breath.
“Stubborn?” I asked, blinking up at him.
“Just… figure it out,” he said, walking away.
A girl crying | Source: Pexels
He said things like that a lot. Anytime I struggled with school or made a mistake, he’d blame it on my “real parents.”
When I turned six, Dad hosted a barbecue in our backyard. I was excited because all the neighborhood kids were coming. I wanted to show them my new bike.
As the adults stood around talking and laughing, Dad raised his glass and said, “You know, we adopted her. Her real parents couldn’t handle the responsibility.”
A man talking to his family at a barbecue | Source: Midjourney
The laughter faded. I froze, holding my plate of chips.
One of the moms asked, “Oh, really? How sad.”
Dad nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “Yeah, but she’s lucky we took her in.”
The words sank like stones in my chest. The next day at school, the other kids whispered about me.
Two girls whispering | Source: Pexels
“Why didn’t your real parents want you?” one boy sneered.
“Are you gonna get sent back?” a girl giggled.
I ran home crying, hoping Dad would comfort me. But when I told him, he shrugged. “Kids will be kids,” he said. “You’ll get over it.”
A man shrugging | Source: Pexels
On my birthdays, Dad started taking me to visit a local orphanage. He’d park outside the building, point to the kids playing in the yard, and say, “See how lucky you are? They don’t have anyone.”
By the time I was a teenager, I dreaded my birthday.
A sad girl in her room | Source: Pexels
The idea that I wasn’t wanted followed me everywhere. In high school, I kept my head down and worked hard, hoping to prove I was worth keeping. But no matter what I did, I always felt like I wasn’t enough.
When I was 16, I finally asked Dad about my adoption.
A girl talking to her father | Source: Midjourney
“Can I see the papers?” I asked one night as we ate dinner.
He frowned, then left the table. A few minutes later, he came back with a folder. Inside, there was a single page—a certificate with my name, a date, and a seal.
“See? Proof,” he said, tapping the paper.
I stared at it, unsure of what to feel. It looked real enough, but something about it felt… incomplete.
A girl looking at documents in her hands | Source: Midjourney
Still, I didn’t ask any more questions.
Years later, when I met Matt, he saw through my walls right away.
“You don’t talk about your family much,” he said one night as we sat on the couch.
I shrugged. “There’s not much to say.”
A young couple watching TV together | Source: Pexels
But he didn’t let it go. Over time, I told him everything—the adoption, the teasing, the orphanage visits, and how I always felt like I didn’t belong.
“Have you ever thought about looking into your past?” he asked gently.
“No,” I said quickly. “Why would I? My dad already told me everything.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice kind but steady. “What if there’s more to the story? Wouldn’t you want to know?”
A couple having a serious talk | Source: Pexels
I hesitated, my heart pounding. “I don’t know,” I whispered.
“Then let’s find out together,” he said, squeezing my hand.
For the first time, I considered it. What if there was more?
A woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
The orphanage was smaller than I had imagined. Its brick walls were faded, and the playground equipment out front looked worn but still cared for. My palms were clammy as Matt parked the car.
“You ready?” he asked, turning to me with his steady, reassuring gaze.
“Not really,” I admitted, clutching my bag like a lifeline. “But I guess I have to be.”
A couple talking in a car | Source: Midjourney
We stepped inside, and the air smelled faintly of cleaning supplies and something sweet, like cookies. A woman with short gray hair and kind eyes greeted us from behind a wooden desk.
“Hi, how can I help you?” she asked, her smile warm.
I swallowed hard. “I… I was adopted from here when I was three years old. I’m trying to find more information about my biological parents.”
A woman standing at a desk in an orphanage | Source: Midjourney
“Of course,” she said, her brow furrowing slightly. “What’s your name and the date of your adoption?”
I gave her the details my dad had told me. She nodded and began typing into an old computer. The clacking of the keys seemed to echo in the quiet room.
Minutes passed. Her frown deepened. She tried again, flipping through a thick binder.
A woman looking through documents | Source: Pexels
Finally, she looked up, her expression apologetic. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any records of you here. Are you sure this is the right orphanage?”
My stomach dropped. “What? But… this is where my dad said I was adopted from. I’ve been told that my whole life.”
Matt leaned forward and peeked into the papers. “Could there be a mistake? Maybe another orphanage in the area?”
A man looking through the documents | Source: Midjourney
She shook her head. “We keep very detailed records. If you were here, we would know. I’m so sorry.”
The room spun as her words sank in. My whole life suddenly felt like a lie.
The car ride home was heavy with silence. I stared out the window, my thoughts racing.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked softly, glancing at me.
A serious woman in a car | Source: Midjourney
“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “I need answers.”
“We’ll get them,” he said firmly. “Let’s talk to your dad. He owes you the truth.”
When we pulled up to my dad’s house, my heart pounded so loudly I could barely hear anything else. The porch light flickered as I knocked.
It took a moment, but the door opened. My dad stood there in his old plaid shirt, his face creased with surprise.
A man in a plaid shirt | Source: Midjourney
“Hey,” he said, his voice cautious. “What are you doing here?”
I didn’t bother with pleasantries. “We went to the orphanage,” I blurted out. “They don’t have any record of me. Why would they say that?”
His expression froze. For a long moment, he said nothing. Then he sighed heavily and stepped back. “Come in.”
A man talking to his daughter | Source: Midjourney
Matt and I followed him into the living room. He sank into his recliner, running a hand through his thinning hair.
“I knew this day would come,” he said quietly.
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, my voice breaking. “Why did you lie to me?”
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
He looked at the floor, his face shadowed with regret. “You weren’t adopted,” he said, his voice barely audible. “You’re your mother’s child… but not mine. She had an affair.”
The words hit me like a punch. “What?”
A sad middle-aged man | Source: Midjourney
“She cheated on me,” he said, his voice bitter. “When she got pregnant, she begged me to stay. I agreed, but I couldn’t look at you without seeing what she did to me. So I made up the adoption story.”
My hands trembled. “You lied to me for my entire life? Why would you do that?”
A confused shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I don’t know,” he said, his shoulders slumping. “I was angry. Hurt. I thought… maybe if you believed you weren’t mine, it would be easier for me to handle. Maybe I wouldn’t hate her so much. It was stupid. I’m sorry.”
I blinked back tears, my voice shaking with disbelief. “You faked the papers?”
He nodded slowly. “I had a friend who worked in records. He owed me a favor. It wasn’t hard to make it look real.”
A sad man looking at his hands | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t breathe. The teasing, the orphanage visits, the comments about my “real parents” wasn’t about me at all. It was his way of dealing with his pain.
“I was just a kid,” I whispered. “I didn’t deserve this.”
“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “I know I failed you.”
A sad woman sitting in her kitchen | Source: Midjourney
I stood up, my legs shaky. “I can’t do this right now. Be sure that I will take care of you when the time comes. But I can’t stay,” I said, turning to Matt. “Let’s go.”
Matt nodded, his jaw tight as he glared at my father. “You’re coming with me,” he said softly.
As we walked out the door, my dad called after me. “I’m sorry! I really am!”
But I didn’t turn around.
A sad grieving woman | Source: Pexels
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided as “is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
My Coworker Unintentionally Revealed My Husband’s Affair, So I Took Immediate Action
Gina uncovers a shocking secret when a casual text from her coworker hints at her husband’s betrayal. She decides to confront the situation head-on, determined to uncover the truth. As she pieces together the clues, Gina’s life takes an unexpected turn. How will she deal with the sudden storm in her life?
I was sitting in my living room, scrolling through my phone, when a text from my friend and coworker Linda popped up.
“Hey, I’m excited about tonight’s movie double date! See you at Regal Cinema around 7 p.m.”
A person holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels
I stared at my phone, confused. George had told me he had a late meeting at work tonight.
We have two kids, a boy and a girl, and our life is usually quite busy. Between George’s job and taking care of the kids, we rarely have time for dates, let alone double dates.
I texted Linda back, “What double date?”
A happy family | Source: Pexels
She replied almost instantly, “George didn’t tell you? He and Carter set it up. Don’t worry, it’ll be fun!”
My heart sank. George hadn’t mentioned anything about this. Why would he plan a double date without telling me? And who was supposed to watch the kids?
Determined to get to the bottom of this, I decided to head to the cinema. I quickly arranged for our neighbor to watch the kids for a couple of hours.
Orange “Central Cinema” LED sign | Source: Pexels
As I got ready, I thought about our life. George and I have always been close, sharing everything about our days. Our kids keep us on our toes, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.
This sudden mystery about George’s plans felt strange and out of character.
I grabbed my phone, booked a cab, and headed out. A double date that I knew nothing about? It was time to find out what was really going on.
A woman standing on the sidewalk near a cab | Source: Pexels
When I arrived at Regal Cinema, my heart pounded. I paid the cab driver and walked toward the entrance. Just as I got there, I saw George walking in with a stylish woman on his arm.
My heart sank. Who was she, and why was George with her?
A stylish woman in a black dress | Source: Pexels
I took a deep breath, trying to keep my composure. This wasn’t the time to jump to conclusions. I needed to see more.
I walked up to the ticket counter and asked, “Can I have two tickets for the movie my husband and that woman just bought?”
The ticket seller looked a bit puzzled but quickly handed me the tickets.
A person holding cinema tickets | Source: Pexels
“Enjoy your movie, I guess,” he said with a shrug.
“Thanks,” I replied, though I didn’t feel like smiling.
As I followed them, I saw George and the woman heading toward one of the theaters. I kept a safe distance behind them, making sure they didn’t notice me.
A smiling woman facing a man | Source: Pexels
The woman was laughing at something George said, and he was smiling back at her. My mind raced with questions and doubts. So you’re cheating on me, George, aren’t you?
As I made my way to the concession stand, I spotted Linda and her date, Carter. “Oh, you guys are already here?” I greeted them with a smile, and Linda’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Hey, hi! Where’s George?” she stammered, forcing a smile.
Grayscale image of a pretty woman | Source: Pexels
“Funny you should ask,” I replied, keeping my voice steady. “I believe he’s already inside with his date!”
Linda sighed, realizing I knew the truth. “Gina, I’m really sorry. I had no idea he was seeing someone else. Carter told me on the way,” she sighed.
“It’s not your fault, Linda,” I said. “You couldn’t have known.”
A woman posing in a white T-shirt | Source: Pexels
We walked into the theater together, and I pointed out George and the stylish woman seated a few rows ahead.
We took our seats, and I tried to focus on the movie, but my mind was elsewhere.
A couple watching a movie | Source: Pexels
Midway through the film, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I stood up and called out, “George! Fancy seeing you here! And who’s your lovely companion?”
The theater fell silent. George looked like he had seen a ghost, and the woman seemed completely bewildered.
“Honey, what are you doing here?” George stammered.
A shocked man | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, I was invited by Linda. You remember Linda, don’t you? Funny thing, she thought we were on a double date. Imagine my surprise when I found out you had other plans!”
Linda stood up, adding to the drama. “I had no idea! I thought George was bringing you, not some other woman.”
The stylish woman, now realizing what was happening, turned to George. “You told me you were single! Is this your wife?”
A shocked couple at the movies | Source: Midjourney
I took a deep breath, feeling a mix of anger and determination. “Yes, I am his wife. Or at least, I was. Consider this my official notice that I’m done with your lies and deceit, George. Enjoy your movie, everyone!”
With that, I walked out of the theater, my emotions a whirlwind. Linda quickly followed me.
“Gina, wait up!” Linda called out, catching up to me. “I’m so sorry. I–I ruined everything.”
“It’s okay, Linda. It’s not your fault,” I replied, trying to hold back tears.
A woman’s face with a tear rolling down her cheek | Source: Pexels
“Do you need a ride home?” Linda offered, concerned.
“Yes, please. I could use the company,” I admitted. “But wait, what about Carter?”
“I think he’ll want to be with George. Let’s get out of here,” Linda said, guiding me to her car.
Red taillight | Source: Pexels
As we left the cinema, I felt a strange combination of empowerment and sadness. My marriage was over, but I was ready to face whatever came next. With friends like Linda by my side, I knew I’d be okay.
The next day at work, I walked into the office feeling a bit anxious.
Inside an office | Source: Pexels
The story of what happened at the cinema spread like wildfire. But my coworkers, who had always seen me as the quiet, dependable one, now looked at me with newfound respect.
“Hey Gina, I heard what happened. You handled it like a champ,” said Sarah from accounting.
Two coworkers | Source: Pexels
“Thanks, Sarah. It wasn’t easy, but it needed to be done,” I replied, managing a small smile.
Throughout the day, I received similar comments from other colleagues. It felt strange to be the center of attention but also somewhat empowering. People who had never said much to me before were now reaching out with words of support.
George tried to contact me multiple times, but I ignored his calls and messages.
A woman using her laptop with her phone nearby | Source: Pexels
Each time my phone buzzed, I felt a twinge of pain, but I knew I had to stay strong. I couldn’t let him pull me back into his web of lies.
Instead, I focused on rebuilding my life. I made a list of things I wanted to do — projects I had put off, hobbies I wanted to take up again, and ways to spend more quality time with my kids. They deserved a mother who was present and happy, not distracted by a broken marriage.
A happy mother with her children | Source: Pexels
At lunch, Linda called to check on me. “How are you holding up, Gina?”
“I’m doing okay, Linda. Thanks for being there last night. It meant a lot to me,” I said, grateful for her support.
“Anytime, Gina. You’re strong, and you’ll get through this. Just take it one day at a time,” she encouraged.
“I will,” I promised.
I knew I had made it through the tough time without falling apart.
A happy woman on a phone call | Source: Pexels
A few weeks later, I was busy preparing lunch when the doorbell rang unexpectedly. I opened it to find Veronica, the stylish woman from the cinema.
“Hi, Gina. I’m Veronica,” she began. “Can we talk? I had no idea George was married. I’m really sorry.”
Her sincerity struck me. “Sure, come on in,” I replied, curious about what she had to say.
A pretty woman | Source: Pexels
We sat in the living room, a pot of coffee between us. Veronica seemed nervous, but she took a deep breath and started talking.
“I found out everything about George a few days after it happened. I didn’t know he had kids. It crushed me. I can’t imagine how you must have felt,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I appreciate you coming here,” I said. “It’s been a tough few weeks, but I’ve had a lot of support.”
A person holding a cup of coffee | Source: Freepik
We talked for hours, sharing our stories and our pain. Despite the awkward start, we found common ground in our mutual betrayal. Surprisingly, it felt good to talk to someone who truly understood what I had gone through.
“You know, this isn’t what I expected when I came here,” Veronica admitted with a sad smile. “But I’m glad we talked. It’s helped me find some closure.”
“Me too,” I said, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders. “It’s strange, but in a way, this has helped me heal.”
What would you have done?
Two women holding cups and chatting at home | Source: Freepik
Leave a Reply