After Miscarriage: Husband's Affair

The divorce papers felt heavy in my hand as I pulled into the parking lot of Serenity Springs Meditation Center. Three weeks had passed since I'd lost our baby, and Caspian had spent more nights here than at home. My fingers trembled slightly as I touched the manila envelope containing the documents that would end our marriage.

I'd tried calling him again this morning. No answer.

"He's in a private session," the receptionist told me when I asked for Caspian. "We're not supposed to interrupt, but..."

Something in her hesitant expression made me pause. "But?"

"Well, Ms. Bell has been with him for hours. Just the two of them."

Ms. Bell. Yasmin Bell. The spiritual counselor who had apparently helped my husband "transcend" his grief over our child's death.

"Which room?" I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

She hesitated, then glanced around before whispering, "The east meditation suite. But please don't say I told you."

The hallway was silent as I approached the room. Soft music drifted through the partially open door. I pushed it wider, and the scene before me froze my blood.

Caspian sat cross-legged on a cushion, his eyes closed. Across from him sat a woman with flowing dark hair and delicate features. Her hands were resting lightly on his, thumbs tracing small circles on his skin.

"The physical body is just a vessel," she was saying, her voice soft and melodic. "When we release our earthly bonds, we find true freedom."

Caspian inhaled deeply, his face relaxed in a way I hadn't seen since before the miscarriage. "And Presley?" he asked. "She's so attached to our... loss."

Yasmin's lips curved into a gentle smile. "Some souls aren't ready for higher consciousness. Her attachment to material suffering is her journey."

I stepped into the room. "My journey?"

They both startled. Caspian's eyes flew open, his face draining of color when he saw me—and the envelope in my hand.

"Presley," he stammered, pulling his hands away from Yasmin's. "I didn't expect you."

"Evidently," I replied, my voice surprisingly calm despite the hurricane raging inside me. I held out the envelope. "Divorce papers. I want you to sign them."

Yasmin rose gracefully to her feet, her silk dress flowing around her slender frame. "Perhaps this isn't the best time," she suggested, her eyes compassionate but calculating. "Caspian is at a crucial point in his spiritual journey."

"I'm sure he is," I said, not looking at her. "Caspian?"

He hesitated, glancing at Yasmin as if seeking guidance. The gesture made my stomach turn.

"Signing these papers would be another attachment," Yasmin murmured. "Another tether to the material world."

"I lost our child," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "And you were here, with her."

Caspian's brow furrowed. "You don't understand, Presley. What Yasmin has shown me—"

"Sign the papers, Caspian."

He took them with trembling hands, scanning the pages. I watched his face as he processed what he was reading. Finally, he reached for a pen on the nearby table.

"This is for the best," he said, his voice hollow as he signed each page. "For both of us."

Yasmin placed her hand on his shoulder, a gesture of possession that wasn't lost on me. "Caspian is evolving beyond the limitations of traditional relationships," she explained, as if I were a child needing simple explanations. "His spirit needs freedom."

I took the signed papers, tucking them back into the envelope. "Thank you for your time," I said coldly, turning to leave.

---

Two nights later, the Harper estate glittered with lights for my father's 60th birthday celebration. I stood alone near the champagne fountain, watching as Thaddeus Ross—the man I'd called Father my entire life—beamed with pride.

"Presley, darling," he called, beckoning me over. "Come meet our special guest."

I approached reluctantly, nodding politely to the familiar faces of family friends and business associates.

"This is Yasmin," Father announced, his arm around her waist. "My goddaughter and our spiritual advisor. She's brought such wisdom to our family."

Yasmin smiled serenely. "It's an honor to serve the Harper family."

Beside her stood Caspian, looking uncomfortable in his formal attire. Mother appeared at his side, her hand possessively on his arm.

"Caspian has been such a comfort during these difficult times," she said, her eyes flicking dismissively to me. "Yasmin has helped him find peace."

I felt like a ghost in my own home, watching as my parents fawned over the woman who had stolen my husband and the man who had replaced me as their favored child. The crystal chandelier above cast fractured light across the room, much like the broken pieces of my life.

"Excuse me," I murmured, slipping away from the group.

As I retreated to the terrace for air, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the French doors—alone, isolated, but somehow more determined than before. Something wasn't right here, beyond just Caspian's betrayal. The way my parents looked at Yasmin... it was almost reverent.

And for the first time since losing my baby, I felt something other than grief stirring in my chest: suspicion.