I Caught My Husband with His Mistress in a Hotel — This Is a Romantic Trip They Will Never Forget

When Eliza's 10th wedding anniversary comes around, she hopes that Tom will take her away for a romantic getaway. But when he forgets about their anniversary and needs to work, she turns it into a girls' weekend, only for her to see that Tom's business trip is a rendezvous with his mistress.

Ever since Tom first described the seaside charm of Bellport, I'd pictured us having a romantic week away there, walking hand in hand, retracing his cherished memories of the time he lived there.

Since we had gotten married, my husband had painted such vivid pictures of Bellport that it seemed woven into our marriage vows.

"It's the most beautiful place, Eliza," he would say, sipping his tea while paging through a newspaper.

Year after year, he promised that we would go, but life always seemed to get in the way—work obligations, family matters, and an endless parade of excuses.

"I'm sorry, Darling," he would say. "It's just that something came up at the office, and I have to attend to it."

But then, when Tom forgot our 10th wedding anniversary, something inside me snapped.

"I have to leave town for the week," he said while shaving. "It's for work. We're prospecting new clients."

I had hoped that Tom would have told me to pack my bags and get ready to celebrate our romantic milestone—yet, it slipped his mind entirely.

Enough was enough.

I wasn't about to be a footnote in my own love story.

So, I called my best friend, Jenny.

"We're going away for my wedding anniversary!" I said as she answered the call.

"What?" she asked, surprised by my words, I could hear her slurping on her usual smoothie.

"Tom would hate that!"

I explained to her that Tom had to be on a business trip and that I was tired of being alone.

"Pack your bags, Jen," I told her.

I went straight to my closet and began to pack my bags. I needed this. I needed a moment to myself. I got onto my laptop and booked a hotel. This weekend was going to be a weekend to heal, laugh, and forget the sting of neglect.

The hotel Tom had often raved about was our first stop.

As we stepped into the lobby—a place he described right down to the gilded frames on the walls—my heart raced with anticipation and a twinge of sadness.

I was happy to be here with my best friend, sure. But being with Tom would have made it so much better, with memories that would have lasted a lifetime.

"Let's check-in and leave our bags," Jenny said. "And then get some fish and chips from that place you've been talking about for the past hour."

And then I heard it.

Tom's laugh.

I looked up, across the room, and there he was. My husband, standing across the lobby with his arm wrapped around a woman who was decidedly not me.

The scene was like a punch to the gut. There he was, living our dream with someone else.

My first instinct was to storm across the lobby and confront them. But anger gave way to a colder, sharper strategy.

Ten years of marriage for this? This was Tom's important business trip?

Sure.

I pulled out my phone and started filming them discreetly, capturing their intimate laughs, their shared glances—all the things that should have been mine.

"Are you okay, Eliza?" Jenny asked me, oblivious to the scene I had just witnessed.

"Look," I said, pointing at Tom.

Jenny clasped her hands to her mouth and gasped.

Feeling emboldened, I approached the reception desk.

"I'm Mrs. Cooper," I said. "You'll see my husband checked in as Tom Cooper? It's our anniversary weekend, and I wanted to surprise my husband."

The woman behind the counter bought it. She beamed at me and told me there would be complimentary couple massages if I could prove we were married.

And then, she gave me the key to his room.

I went in and filmed everything—their clothes strewn about, the champagne on ice, the unmistakable aura of a romantic getaway.

With Jenny's encouragement, I took to the streets of Bellport. We showed the footage to anyone willing to watch it.

"What do you think of a man who promises a romantic weekend to his wife and then takes his mistress instead?" I asked the locals.

Jenny filmed all their reactions while I spoke. People were shocked, and hurt on my behalf; some were even empathetic.

And as I met more people, it turned out that people didn't just disapprove of Tom—they shared their stories of betrayal, connecting with my own pain.

Jenny and I went back to our room and ordered room service while she whizzed away on her laptop, turning our footage into a short film.

Forgotten Promises: A Bellport Betrayal.

Then, we uploaded it online—tagging Tom on Facebook.

It went viral overnight. And as the support began to pour in, so did the outrage towards Tom.

When Tom saw the video, he called me, furious.

"Eliza!" he barked. "Take it down! This isn't fair!"

"It's too late, Tom," I replied coolly. "It's out there now, and it's the truth."

Tom went on, airing his grievances through the phone.

"Why doesn't he just come and find you?" Jenny asked. "We're in the same hotel."

I didn't understand that either. But Tom seemed perfectly fine spending time with his mistress. I knew she was there with him—probably comforting him while he was distressed by my actions.

"I don't know," I replied to Jenny.

I cut the call, and Jenny and I took to the streets, ready to eat our feelings away in ice cream.

As we were walking, out of the blue, a travel company reached out to me. They had seen our short film and offered me a job in creating "Truthful Travelogues."

"You'll just have to do exactly what you did for your short film," a woman named Natasha told me. "We'll send you a laptop so that you can edit on there, too."

Suddenly, I was more than just another scorned wife who had to suffer in silence and wait to be acknowledged by her husband. Now, I was a storyteller, weaving narratives of authenticity in beautiful locales.

And on the other hand—Tom's life began to crumble. His professional image soured as colleagues and clients questioned his integrity.

That trip he took to Bellport, meant to be hidden away like a secret, became his public undoing.

His car was even egged by some of the kids who lived on our street—something that he deserved.

Shortly after I returned home, I packed all my belongings and moved in with Jenny. She was single and my constant support—there was nobody else I wanted to reinvent myself with.

Looking back, the trip to Bellport was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Initially, I had wanted it to be a romantic escape with my husband, but then it had turned into a girls' weekend.

Only for it to become an unraveling of my marriage.

Even now, I'm not completely sure that my actions were the greatest, but at the same time—I needed to do it. I needed to expose Tom for the liar that he was.

And in the end, I needed to empower myself again. I couldn't keep living in the shadow of Tom's job and deceit.

Now, I have to try and rebuild my life as a newly single woman ready to get what she deserves.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here's another one! |

I Accidentally Discovered My Husband's Desire to Cheat on Me with Another Woman, So I Taught Him the Lesson of His Life

It had been nearly a year of oddities in my relationship, but nothing quite caught my attention like my husband sleeping with his phone in his pocket. At first, I told myself it was just paranoia, that maybe he was just being overly cautious with his pricey new gadget. But as I would soon learn, Mark was being overly cautious with his phone for a reason.

He never pulled it out in front of me, often typing away messages under the cover of a blanket or swiftly pocketing it the moment I walked into the room. I mean, it didn't take a genius to know he was hiding something from me. And I knew it wasn't going to be anything good.

After a while of this sneaky texting, I finally had the opportunity to take a peek at what he was being so secretive about. Now, I never wanted to be the girlfriend who went snooping on my husband's phone, but I also never thought I would have a husband who didn't want me to even take a glimpse at his phone's screen. And in any case, I didn't mean to snoop in the first place.

Late one chilly night, as we sat tangled in a blanket on the couch in front of the TV, Mark's phone slipped from the pocket of his sweats. I thought he would jump up in a panic and snatch it off the ground with lightning speed as usual, but he just kept snoring.

It ended up near my legs, buzzing intermittently with what I assumed were late-night notifications. At first, I ignored it. I just wanted to finish the last episode of the show I had been bingeing and go to bed.

Eventually, as the credits started rolling, I reached for it, my intentions purely innocent — I just wanted to plug it into the charger on the nightstand. But as I grabbed it, the screen lit up, revealing a barrage of notifications from a dating app. "Of course," I remember thinking. "Of course, this would be what Mark was doing after two years of me supporting him."

You see, Mark has been jobless for a while now. I've constantly had to carry him along, paying for everything he apparently "needed to get back in the game." Looking back, I feel so stupid. And you best believe I felt even dumber the moment I caught him ogling random girls on dating apps.

Standing with his phone in my hand, bitterness and rage rose within me, and for a fleeting moment, I thought about waking him up with an onslaught of well-placed strikes. But, no. I wouldn't be reduced to a wailing mess throwing punches and giving him incentive to turn the entire thing against me.

Instead, I wiped the few tears that had rolled down my cheek and hatched a plan. If he was going to betray our relationship, I needed a way to teach him not to underestimate me. And I knew just how to do that.

Want to know what happens next? Read the full story here.

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.