Five years ago, my life turned upside down when my husband, Kevin, accidentally texted me instead of his mistress. In that message, he admitted he hated me because I couldn’t give him a baby. My infertility, something I already carried as a heavy burden, was now being used as ammunition against me.
The betrayal was too much to bear, and we divorced. Not long after, Kevin married the woman he had been having an affair with—Jess. I buried the pain, moved on as best as I could, and never looked back.
Then, a month ago, my past came crashing into my present.
One evening, as I was scrolling through my phone, I received a message from an unknown number:
**”I need your help asap!!! I know it looks awful but ONLY YOU can save me.”**
It was Jess.
I stared at the screen, a mix of confusion, anger, and disbelief swirling inside me. The woman who had played a role in ruining my life was now asking for my help?
After wrestling with whether to reply, curiosity won out. I responded cautiously, and Jess begged me to meet her the next day at a quiet restaurant while Kevin was at work.
When I walked into the restaurant, I spotted her immediately. She looked… different. Pale, frail, and clearly nervous, Jess wasn’t the vibrant woman I remembered seeing in photos on Kevin’s social media. She looked up at me, her eyes brimming with desperation.
“What’s going on?” I asked, sitting down.
Jess leaned forward, her voice trembling. “I know I’m the last person you want to see, but I had no one else to turn to. Kevin… he’s not the man you think he is.”
My stomach twisted. “What do you mean?”
She took a deep breath, her hands shaking. “At first, everything was perfect. Kevin was charming, attentive, and loving. But after we got married, he changed. He became controlling—about my friends, my money, even what I wear. And when I got pregnant…” Her voice broke. “He became violent.”
I froze. Kevin had always been temperamental, but I never imagined this. “Are you saying he hurt you?”
Jess nodded, tears streaming down her face. “He’s only gotten worse since the baby was born. He controls every aspect of our lives. I wanted to leave, but he keeps threatening to take the baby away from me if I try.”
My heart pounded. “Why are you telling me this? How can I help?”
Jess wiped her tears and looked me in the eyes. “You know Kevin better than anyone. You know his weaknesses, how he thinks. I need your help to get away from him. I don’t care about anything else—I just want to protect my child.”
Part of me wanted to walk away. After all, Jess had been part of the reason my marriage fell apart. But seeing her so broken, knowing a child was involved, I couldn’t ignore her plea.
“Alright,” I said finally. “Here’s what we’ll do.”
Over the next week, we carefully planned her escape. I helped her gather evidence of Kevin’s abuse, including photos of her injuries and text messages. We connected with a lawyer and a domestic violence shelter.
On the day of her escape, I watched from my car as Jess walked out of their house, holding her baby tightly. Kevin wasn’t home, and everything went smoothly. Jess and her child were whisked away to a safe location.
The next time I heard from her, she was filing for divorce and seeking full custody of the baby. She thanked me profusely, but I told her it wasn’t about forgiveness—it was about doing what was right.
Helping Jess gave me a sense of closure I never thought I’d find. Kevin may have broken my heart, but I refused to let him destroy someone else’s life. In the end, the strength to help someone who had once hurt me became the greatest revenge of all.
