What to say to a husband’s mistress when she calls and says she’s expecting a baby

Reporting bad news Very difficult, sometimes even impossible task. It is difficult primarily morally. Especially if you have to tell someone something unpleasant. However, in our life a lot is not easy. Do you have to step on your emotions?



So our reader had a similar situation. Not her own, but her sister’s. It's sad, it's hard, but we need to get strong and endure.

I was born into a good family with loving parents. Back in the “Holy Nineties” he got a good job and transported clothes from China, which he then resold in the local market. Little by little it developed, opened its points and eventually acquired its own chain of stores. His mother tried to help him, but she had a little daughter. I mean, me.

I will say right away that my childhood was happy and joyful. Unlike my peers, I have always had enough. Delicious food, good clothes and wonderful upbringing. I know a lot of stories when my classmates were not as lucky as I was. It's terrible, but now I can't help, and before I was little interested in such things because of age.



One problem was that I was fed. I was the fattest girl in class and probably in school my entire teenage life. And this, as you know, is a good blow to the social life of the girl and brings a whole bunch of complexes. Despite my abilities and, I think, not a bad character. I was an outcast all my years at school.

It was easier at university. No one bullied me anymore, students treated the appearance much easier. No, the girls never invited me to hang out with them, and the guys didn't. But there were a couple of people I knew who I could at least walk with after a couple.

The young man came to me only at the end of the fourth year, and, unfortunately, I can not say that it was my first love. Thin, slouchy, with thin legs and a huge nose. He was always with me and invited me to walk in the park. There we walked silently along overgrown paths and only smiled at each other from time to time. Six months later, we broke up, but he didn’t seem to notice it.



My true love only came to me when I was 26 years old. Vladimir, Vova. Pretty, tall, handsome. He obviously had a lot of girls before me, but it doesn't matter. My cousin introduced us, and I was very grateful for that. Vladimir and I quickly realized that we were created for each other, and six months later we got married.

Dad was especially pleased with his son-in-law. He immediately put him through his acquaintances to a good post. The work is not dusty, and I often came to their office to ask how things were going. No matter how it sounds, I have already formed my own financial standards and “paradise in a hut with a loved one” did not suit me.

Vova turned out to be a good worker and his affairs even went uphill. Satisfied father, mother. I'm happy, too. My man was given a start, and he did the rest himself. Isn't that beautiful?



Veronica, my cousin, often came to our house to chat and just spend time together. The four of us even went on vacation. Me, Vova, Veronica and her boyfriend. Youth, excellent prospects and a confident view of the future. I was so happy. She took care of herself, even did a few plastic procedures.

A few years later, I decided to celebrate my birthday. Few guests, but a good place, delicious food, live music and a famous artist as a presenter. Everything was top-notch. When the guests had a snack and went for a little dance, my phone rang. The number was unknown, and I went to a quiet place to hear the voice of the caller.

A girl called who introduced herself as Olga. In a confident voice, she told me she was expecting a baby with my husband. It wasn't a joke or a hoax. She told me everything. Where, when and under what circumstances. She even knew what I looked like. A little bit away from the shock, I thought and matched the dates: in those days my husband was late at work or even went on business trips.



Tears, pain in the heart and bitter resentment. The whole holiday is wasted. My parents, seeing my condition, quickly took me to the back room and asked me about everything. I didn’t hide anything and answered it as it was. The celebration was canceled, the guests went home, and Vova simply disappeared into the air. The phone didn't answer and he wasn't home.

Dad found Vova the next day. Or rather, his friends. Shattered, but with a bouquet, he came to explain himself. Said it was true, but he had already abandoned that woman. She's nobody to him, it just happened. He said he only loved me and would fight for our love. He even gave her last name. And then I was shaking. I've heard of her before.

She was the best friend of Veronica, my cousin. Vladimir, of course, was sent seriously and for a long time, and the Pope promised that he would agree on a quick and “painless” divorce. This man will have no business with our family in any way. Not at home, not at work.



I went to Veronica's tonight. Turns out, yes. She knew everything for a long time. I didn't, but I knew it. I couldn't tell her because she was mentally difficult. Vova promised to tell everything (I believe, how), but everything continued. And she sat flat, but it was like she was involved in all this.

Scandal, tears. I didn't tell Dad anything about my cousin. He's under stress, too. But I don't talk to her anymore. How could I, a relative, be exchanged for a man who cheated on his own wife? We were so friendly. I'll never forgive her. I probably had more resentment for her than even Vladimir. We women should always support each other. So why did she choose a friend over me?