My 7-Year-Old Drew a Picture of My Husband with Another Woman and Wrote, ‘I Can’t Wait for You to Be My Mom’

When Amber, a hardworking mom and corporate attorney, discovers a drawing by her 7-year-old daughter, Mia, her world is shaken. The picture shows Mia’s teacher in Amber’s place with a heartbreaking caption. Suspecting betrayal, Amber confronts her husband, Jack, only to uncover something deeper… Mia’s feelings of abandonment amidst Amber’s busy life.

I didn’t think I’d be here… but this has been life lately.

A woman looking out the window | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking out the window | Source: Midjourney

I’m Livia, I’m thirty-four, married to my husband Jack for ten years, and I’m a mom to my bundle of joy, Mia, a seven-year-old little girl. Recently, I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been in my entire life, which is truly saying something because I’m a corporate attorney.

My mom’s health has been declining over the past year, and we’ve been throwing ourselves into her hospital stays, therapy sessions, and medication that costs way more than I care to admit.

To cover everything, I’ve been working insane hours because I’d do anything for my mother.

A woman sitting in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

A woman sitting in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

Anything.

Jack has been the best partner and rock I could have ever asked for. He has stepped up at home in ways I never imagined or expected. Jack has taken on the cooking, cleaning, helping Mia with her schoolwork, and managing all the little things I used to handle.

He made it possible for me to keep everything afloat, even when it felt like I was drowning.

A father and daughter duo sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

A father and daughter duo sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

But last night, everything changed before I could even catch my breath.

I came home late, exhausted, starving, and ready to collapse. After hurriedly eating a bowl of salmon and rice while Mia took her bath, I put my little girl to bed. As she dozed off, Mia mumbled something about puppets.

“I didn’t know that you could put your hand in a socket and it would be a puppet,” she said.

A green sock puppet | Source: Midjourney

A green sock puppet | Source: Midjourney

“A sock, my darling,” I said. “Not a socket! Don’t you ever put your hand in a socket, Mia.”

She giggled.

“Okay, Momma,” she said, yawning.

A yawning little girl | Source: Midjourney

A yawning little girl | Source: Midjourney

I started tidying up her dolls, which were scattered all over the carpet in her room, and then made my way to the coffee table in the living room. Crayons, white paper, and coloring books were scattered all over.

That’s when I found it. A drawing.

At first glance, it seemed innocent enough. A kid’s sketch of a happy family. A man, a woman, and a little girl holding hands. But when I looked closer, my stomach twisted.

A woman gathering crayons | Source: Midjourney

A woman gathering crayons | Source: Midjourney

The man was unmistakably Jack. The little girl was clearly Mia. But the woman? Definitely not me.

She had long brown hair and wore a flowing bridal gown. Beneath the drawing, in Mia’s little handwriting, were the words that broke my heart:

I can’t wait for you to be my mom!

It felt like the ground beneath me had given way.

A child's drawing | Source: Midjourney

A child’s drawing | Source: Midjourney

I took the picture to Mia’s bed and sat on the edge, trying to wake her up enough to get answers.

“Darling girl, can you tell me about this drawing?” I asked her calmly.

“What drawing, Momma?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

When Mia took a look at the drawing, her face turned red, and she snatched the paper out of my hand, clutching it to her chest.

An upset little girl | Source: Midjourney

An upset little girl | Source: Midjourney

“You weren’t supposed to find that! Daddy said to hide it better!” she blurted out.

Hide it better? Jack? Hide what better?

My heart started pounding. What was going on? Was Jack cheating? And what was worse… was Mia already imagining this other woman as her mom?

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

I barely slept that night. My mind was running miles per hour. I thought about my mother, I thought about the work I still needed to do before heading to the office the next day, and I thought about my marriage…

By the morning, I had gone through a storm of worst-case scenarios. I sat in the kitchen, waiting for Jack to get ready for work. Mia had already left for school.

“What is this?” I demanded, thrusting the drawing into his hands.

An upset woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

His eyes widened, and his face turned pale.

“You told her to hide it?” I asked. “You actually told Mia to hide it?”

“Wait, wait,” he stammered, holding up his hands defensively. “It’s not what you think, Amber. Let me explain it all to you.”

A worried man standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

A worried man standing in a kitchen | Source: Midjourney

“You have exactly five seconds, Jack. I’ve been going crazy the entire night.”

My husband ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed.

“Come with me,” he said.

“What? Where are we going? What about work?” I asked.

A man standing in a kitchen with his head bowed down | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in a kitchen with his head bowed down | Source: Midjourney

“We’re going to Mia’s school. I need to show you something,” he said.

I wanted to scream at him, but something in his voice, an urgency that didn’t feel like guilt, made me agree.

The drive to the school was tense and silent, my mind still racing. What would Jack show me at Mia’s school that would change anything? Was there an imaginary friend or imaginary step-in mother waiting for us?

An upset woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney

When we arrived at the school, Jack squeezed my knee. As we walked to the reception area, he squeezed my hand and asked to see Mia’s teacher, Clara.

As soon as Clara walked in, I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. She was stunning, and for the life of me, I couldn’t remember why I hadn’t met her before. She had long brown hair, a bright smile, and an effortlessly bubbly demeanor.

She had to be the woman from Mia’s drawing, it was unmistakable.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

She smiled at Jack, and I wanted to scream.

“Clara,” Jack said. “Can you explain to my wife what’s been happening with Mia?”

Clara’s expression shifted to confusion but then softened as she glanced at me.

“Oh, of course,” she said.

A stressed woman | Source: Midjourney

A stressed woman | Source: Midjourney

She gestured for us to sit in the little room adjacent to the reception.

“Look, Mia’s been having a tough time lately,” she began. “She’s mentioned feeling like her mom doesn’t have time for her anymore. I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s… well, look, she’s seven. And she’s been drawing a lot of pictures to process her feelings.”

Clara handed me a stack of drawings, and my heart sank as I flipped through them.

A stack of children's drawings and coloring books | Source: Midjourney

A stack of children’s drawings and coloring books | Source: Midjourney

Most were variations of the same theme. A happy family with Clara in my place. On the back of one of the drawings, there were more words I hadn’t noticed the first time:

Daddy and Clara.

“So, you’ve been spending time with my daughter?” I asked, unable to hide the edge in my voice.

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

“Yes, of course,” she said. “But only in class, and I’m her teacher, after all. She stays after class sometimes to help me tidy up. She told me she feels like she’s losing her mom because you’re always busy. I’m so sorry if I overstepped. I’d never want to interfere…”

I turned to Jack, my chest tight.

“And you? What did you say to her about this?”

A stressed man | Source: Midjourney

A stressed man | Source: Midjourney

Jack looked miserable.

“I found that picture last week,” he admitted. “I told Mia it wasn’t true, that you love her more than anything. But I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to make it worse by bringing it up when you were already so stressed out. I told her to put the drawing away because I knew it would hurt you.”

“You should have told me, Jack,” I said softly.

A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding her head | Source: Midjourney

I honestly didn’t know what to think.

Jack nodded, guilt in his eyes.

“I know, love,” he said. “I thought I was protecting you, but I see now that I just made it worse.”

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

My anger began to deflate, replaced by a wave of guilt so heavy it nearly knocked me off my seat. This wasn’t about Jack cheating or Clara overstepping. It was about my daughter, her sadness, her confusion, and her way of coping with my absence.

That night, I sat down with Mia at the kitchen table. I had dished us bowls of ice cream with all the toppings, hoping for a bonding moment between us.

Bowls of ice cream | Source: Midjourney

Bowls of ice cream | Source: Midjourney

“Sweetheart,” I said softly. “I need to tell you something. I know I haven’t been around as much lately, and I’m so, so sorry. Grandma needs a lot of help right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything, sweet girl.”

Mia’s eyes filled with tears, and she threw her arms around me.

“I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,” she whispered.

A little girl sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney

A little girl sitting at a table | Source: Midjourney

My heart shattered.

“I love you more than anything,” I said, holding her tightly. “Nothing will ever change that.”

In the weeks that followed, I made several lifestyle changes.

I cut back on work hours and asked my siblings to take on more of our mom’s care. Jack and I started a “Mom and Mia” night every week, just the two of us, doing whatever she wanted.

A little girl decorating cookies | Source: Midjourney

A little girl decorating cookies | Source: Midjourney

Sometimes it was baking cookies, other times it was a movie night, or building a fort, or sometimes it was just us dressing up and going on a date together.

I also had a heartfelt talk with Clara to thank her for being a wonderful teacher and being there for Mia when I couldn’t be.

She apologized again for any boundaries she might have crossed, but I reassured her that Mia’s drawings weren’t her fault.

A blanket fort in a living room | Source: Midjourney

A blanket fort in a living room | Source: Midjourney

“I just feel bad, Amber,” she said as she cleaned up paintbrushes.

“I know, but you really shouldn’t, Clara,” I said. “You became a safe space for Mia, and you reminded her of how loved and cared for she is. That’s something I’ll always appreciate.”

Life isn’t perfect, but it’s a lot better. I’m learning to ask for help and to show Mia that she comes first. And now, every time she picks up her crayons, I make sure I’m sitting right next to her.

A smiling mother and daughter duo | Source: Midjourney

A smiling mother and daughter duo | Source: Midjourney

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you: Sam used to be a mama’s boy, always clinging to Candice and lighting up at the sight of her. But one day, that changed. He started avoiding her hugs, her kisses, and even her presence. At first, I thought it was just a phase. But there was more to it. Much more.

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 Husband Pretended to Rent Our House While He Actually Owned It, Karma Didn’t Let It Slide

Emma had always been the frugal one, making sure that after her rent was taken care of, she still had enough money to make ends meet. But one day, when her husband is away for work, Emma takes care of the rent payment, only to discover that the rent she’s been paying is actually for her mother-in-law’s monthly allowances. Emma and Karma team up, ready to serve justice.

I had always been frugal, meticulously budgeting every penny of my salary. New clothes, makeup, and vacations were all luxuries that I saw my friends indulge in, but they were dreams I had to put on hold.

A woman counting money | Source: Pexels

A woman counting money | Source: Pexels

“I just want to go on a vacation in a sunny place,” I told my best friend, Jessica. “To just lounge around on the beach and sip cocktails.”

“Soon,” Jessica would say. “I know that you’re close to sorting the house out and finally being free of rent and whatnot.”

People holding drinks at the beach | Source: Pexels

People holding drinks at the beach | Source: Pexels

The house. That was where our problems had begun.

Every month, a significant portion of my paycheck went toward the rent of our little home. Paul, my husband, and I both contributed to the rent, but he always handled the payments to our elusive landlord.

I trusted him implicitly, and of course, I never questioned his actions.

A Surburban house | Source: Midjourney

A Surburban house | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t worry, darling,” Paul would say. “I’ll take the money from our joint account each month and do the rest.”

Years passed, and my sacrifices continued. Paul took care of the power and the water bills, and we both contributed to the groceries. As difficult as it sometimes was, we both knew that it was just something that needed to be done.

A couple standing outside a store | Source: Midjourney

A couple standing outside a store | Source: Midjourney

One day, Paul had to leave early for a short business trip. It wasn’t anything new, and we had both gotten used to him going away on these trips.

“Do you want me to take care of rent?” I asked as I helped him pack his clothes away. “I know that you’re going to be traveling on the first of the month.”

“No, but thank you,” he said. “I’ll try and log on from my laptop and do it, or I’ll just handle it when I’m back.”

An open suitcase | Source: Pexels

An open suitcase | Source: Pexels

“Honey, you’re already doing so much for us. Let me lighten the burden and help,” I said.

Paul sighed deeply and took two ties out of his closet.

“It’s fine, Emma,” he said curtly. “I’ve got it under control.”

A man holding ties | Source: Midjourney

A man holding ties | Source: Midjourney

My husband left early the next morning and that was it. He didn’t speak about the rent topic again.

As the days went by and the rent was due the following day, I left my office during lunch to go to the bank.

“Where are you headed off to?” Jessica asked me as I gathered my handbag and cellphone before leaving the office.

A woman in an office | Source: Pexels

A woman in an office | Source: Pexels

“Just to the bank,” I replied. “I’ll be back soon and then we can get something for lunch.”

I walked into the bank ready to make a payment and lighten my husband’s load. But what I discovered was a different reality altogether.

I approached a teller and explained my situation, giving her all my relevant details.

A large building | Source: Unsplash

A large building | Source: Unsplash

“I just need to transfer rent money to my landlord,” I said. “My husband usually does this stuff, but he’s away on business.”

The teller smiled at me and looked at my identity document before continuing.

“Certainly, ma’am,” the teller said, pulling up the account details. “Could you confirm the account number?”

A bank teller at her desk | Source: Midjourney

A bank teller at her desk | Source: Midjourney

I read the number off the notepad I had taken from Paul’s desk that morning. He had a habit of writing all his important information on that one notepad.

“Thank you,” the teller said, typing the number in.

“A Mrs. Helen Parker?” she asked. “That’s your landlord’s account?”

A woman holding a notebook | Source: Midjourney

A woman holding a notebook | Source: Midjourney

I blinked in confusion.

“Helen Parker? Are you sure that’s what it says?” I exclaimed, my hands feeling clammy.

The teller, sensing that something was amiss, double-checked the records, frowning slightly as she concentrated.

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

“This is the account that has been receiving money from your account. It’s actually been receiving money for years.”

Paul’s mother. Helen Parker was Paul’s mother.

“There must be some mistake, surely,” I said.

A woman at her desk | Source: Midjourney

A woman at her desk | Source: Midjourney

“I’m afraid not, ma’am,” she said. “This account has consistently received the monthly payments. Look, I can print it all out for you if you’d like to go through it yourself.”

I nodded, too numb with shock.

I left the bank and drove home in a daze, forgetting that I needed to get back to work entirely.

A woman driving | Source: Pexels

A woman driving | Source: Pexels

Once home, I went straight to Paul’s study and began rifling through his drawers. I needed answers.

“How on earth have I been paying for his mother’s lifestyle all these years?” I said aloud.

It didn’t take long to find everything I needed. There it was, the ownership document for our house, signed and dated years ago, with Paul listed as the sole owner.

Open desk drawers | Source: Midjourney

Open desk drawers | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what to think, so I sat in silence for a few moments until my phone rang.

“Emma?” Jessica’s voice ran through the room. “Are you okay? Why didn’t you come back to the office?”

Quickly, I caught my best friend up on the drama.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

“So, the rent that you’ve been paying is actually Helen’s allowance?” Jessica gasped. “That’s so ridiculous!”

“Yes,” I replied, holding my head in my hands. “I don’t know what to do. Paul is away for the next few days.”

“Did he take his laptop?” Jessica asked.

“No, actually, he didn’t,” I replied.

“Then go through it! Look for more information!”

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman using a laptop | Source: Pexels

My hands trembling, I turned on his laptop and found a series of messages exchanged between Paul and Helen. The messages detailed their plan, discussing how they would keep me in the dark and ensure I continued to pay rent, funneling my money straight to her.

“What the heck?” I muttered under my breath.

A close-up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

A close-up of a shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

As the full weight of the betrayal settled on me, karma arrived with no delay. That evening, a violent storm swept through our town, leaving floods behind.

Of course, my house was one of them.

By the next morning, water started seeping through the ceiling, and within minutes, the whole house was flooded.

Water falling through a ceiling | Source: Midjourney

Water falling through a ceiling | Source: Midjourney

I took my belongings and went to a hotel. I wasn’t about to suffer through this alone.

“You can come to me,” Jessica said when I called to tell her that I was staying at a hotel.

“No,” I said. “I don’t plan on staying in the house long, so I’ll be here for a while. When Paul returns home, I’ll go to the house and get the last of my things.”

A hotel room | Source: Midjourney

A hotel room | Source: Midjourney

On the day that Paul was scheduled to come home, I went over to the house and worked my way through the things that were not damaged by the flooding.

“Emma, are you okay?” he asked as he stepped into the house. “What happened here?”

I turned to him, my eyes cold.

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

“I’m fine. But the house isn’t. The ceiling doesn’t look too good in some places. But it’s a good thing that’s not our house, right? The landlord’s insurance can cover it.”

To his credit, my husband isn’t stupid and he was able to pick up on my sarcasm easily.

Paul paled, realizing that he was trapped.

“Emma, I can explain,” he said.

“Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “I found the bank records, the ownership documents, and your messages to Helen. I know everything.”

A man looking down | Source: Midjourney

A man looking down | Source: Midjourney

Paul’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“How could you do that to me?” I asked quietly. “Especially after knowing that I wanted to do things for myself. I wanted us to go on trips together and make memories. But all this time, I was just using my hard-earned money to take care of your mother?”

“What do you want me to tell you? That she’s old and needs it?” Paul asked.

A smiling older woman | Source: Pexels

A smiling older woman | Source: Pexels

“We both know that’s not the case,” I retorted. “Your father left everything to her. She’s doing fine. And in any case, it’s not that I wouldn’t have wanted to help Helen if I knew. It’s the fact that you’ve been lying for years.”

“Just wait,” Paul said. “I’m sure that we can work through this.”

“No, we cannot,” I replied. “You’ve been using me for years and I’m finally done with all of this.”

A man looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney

I walked out of the house and went back to the hotel where Jessica promised to come over and spend the evening with me.

The next day, I consulted a lawyer and fought to reclaim the money that I had unknowingly handed over to Helen.

A lawyer sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney

A lawyer sitting in his office | Source: Midjourney

In the end, justice prevailed and the court ruled in my favor, ordering Paul and his mother to repay every cent I had given them over the years.

With my newfound financial freedom, I got myself a little apartment, someplace that I could easily lock up and leave when it was time for a getaway.

And as for Paul? After the money was settled, I filed for a divorce, and left him in the past with his mother.

A living room in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

A living room in an apartment | Source: Midjourney

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

My Kids Listed My House on Airbnb While I Was in the Hospital — I Found a Way to Teach Them a Lesson

A phone opened to an Airbnb app | Source: Pexels

A phone opened to an Airbnb app | Source: Pexels

Mariah had been feeling less than healthy lately, causing her to admit herself to the hospital so that she could have a check-up. But in her absence, her children decided to rent out her house as an Airbnb, ready to pocket the money for themselves. When Mariah found out, she decided to teach her children a lesson.

If I was being honest, I didn’t know how I felt about my children’s betrayal. But it hurt me to imagine that while I had been away at the hospital, my children were perfectly fine with having strangers take over my home.

“What were they thinking?” I asked myself.

They hadn’t given a second thought to people using the mugs I had hand-painted, or people sitting in their father’s worn armchair. Paul has been deceased for a few years now, but it still felt like his chair.

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.

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