My Bodycam Caught My Wife Cheating , Now She Wants Me Back

No wonder... No wonder two full years of driving lessons hadn't produced a license.

It wasn't that she couldn't pass. She'd been dragging it out—using every lesson as an excuse to cheat.

I stood on the rooftop and smoked through the night. The smoke stung my eyes raw.

The darkness pressed in from all sides, threatening to swallow me whole, leaving me nowhere to hide from the emptiness.

It was time. Our marriage needed to end.

Carmen didn't come home until the following afternoon, dragging herself through the door like she was half-dead with exhaustion.

The moment she saw me, her face lit up the way it always did. She transformed into that clingy little kitten act of hers—launching herself into my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist, refusing to let go.

"Babe, did you miss me?"

"Blame Mei Mei—she was so devastated after her breakup that she couldn't sleep without me there. I was afraid she'd do something stupid, so I had to stay."

"But I felt so bad about leaving my baby all alone."

"Kiss!"

Her lips—the same lips that instructor had been all over—were inches from my face when my stomach lurched. I shoved her off on pure instinct.

Carmen flinched hard. The color drained from her face, slow as a retreating tide.

"H-Honey, what's wrong?"

Her eyes were rimming red, tears threatening to spill, and I forced myself to take a deep breath.

"It's nothing. I'm coming down with a cold. Didn't want to give it to you."

The word cold hit her like a five-alarm fire.

Guilt flooded her face. She rushed forward and threw her arms around me again.

"Honey, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault—I should've been here taking care of you."

"My own husband was sick, and I was off looking after a friend."

"I'm not going anywhere today. I'm staying right here with you."

And she meant it. For the rest of the day, Carmen became the picture-perfect wife—attentive to my every need.

She hand-fed me dinner. Told jokes to make me laugh. If I so much as sneezed, she nearly had a panic attack.

I watched her silhouette in the kitchen as she mixed cold medicine, late afternoon light spilling across her shoulders like liquid gold, and my mind drifted.

If only she hadn't lied. If only she hadn't cheated. We could have gone on like this forever.

But behind the love, there was nothing left but scars.

Even as she stood there stirring my medicine, she was sneaking texts to her instructor. Flirty messages, one after another. Whatever he wrote back made something shift behind her eyes—a restless hunger she couldn't quite mask.

After she tucked me into bed, she slipped out the door.

I grabbed my jacket and followed.

From a distance, I watched her throw herself into the instructor's arms. They kissed like they'd die without each other, then tumbled into the tall grass together, letting the darkness cover them.

What she didn't know was that I'd already documented everything.

I turned and walked away, loneliness settling into my bones like winter. And finally—finally—I made up my mind to leave her.

The third day was her mother's birthday. Carmen wanted me to come along to celebrate.

The moment I stepped through the door, my mother-in-law's expression said it all—pure, undisguised contempt.

It didn't matter that I was carrying expensive gifts. Nothing could change how she felt about me.

"Mom!" Carmen called out in that sweet, honeyed voice of hers.

Mrs. Harding's face softened—but only slightly.

That's when Dylan Harding walked in, and he wasn't alone. He had Carmen's driving instructor with him.

"Sis, look—I brought your instructor! You're so hopeless behind the wheel, you should really butter him up more. He'll have you passing in no time."

The instant Carmen laid eyes on the instructor, something sparked behind her gaze. That restless hunger stirred again, clawing its way to the surface.

The instructor stared right back at her, heat written all over his face.

Dylan grinned and steered the instructor toward their mother.

"Mom, don't let the job title fool you. This guy's loaded. He owns dozens of properties, and his bank account has eight figures. Teaching driving is just a hobby."

The words barely left Dylan's mouth before Mrs. Harding's face broke into the warmest smile I'd ever seen.