After Miscarriage: Husband's Affair

The crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over the dining room as waiters glided between guests, refilling champagne glasses and removing empty plates. My father's 60th birthday celebration was in full swing, but I felt like an outsider at my own family's table.

A gentle tap on a crystal glass silenced the dinner conversation. All eyes turned to Yasmin, who stood at the head of the table, her silk dress catching the light as she moved.

"I'd like to say a few words," she announced, her voice soft yet somehow commanding. "Thaddeus has been such a guiding light in my spiritual journey."

My fork paused halfway to my mouth. Thaddeus—my father—nodded with pride.

"Family bonds are sacred," Yasmin continued, her eyes sweeping the room but somehow skipping over me. "They transcend blood and genetics to connect souls who are meant to be together."

I felt a chill despite the warmth of the room.

"Caspian," she said, turning to him with a smile that seemed to hold secrets, "your pure soul has been such an inspiration to me. You've shown remarkable dedication to spiritual growth."

Caspian ducked his head, looking pleased. "The meditation center has changed my life," he murmured.

"Thaddeus and Eleanor," Yasmin continued, addressing my parents, "your parental guidance has been a blessing to so many. You've created a family built on love and spiritual values."

My mother reached over to squeeze Yasmin's hand. "We're so grateful for your wisdom, dear."

The entire room erupted in applause. I sat frozen, my untouched dessert melting into a puddle of cream and chocolate.

"And Presley," Yasmin added, almost as an afterthought, "I hope you find your way to spiritual enlightenment soon."

The condescension in her tone was unmistakable. I felt every eye in the room turn to me, assessing my worth against this perfect spiritual counselor who had apparently won over my entire family.

"Thank you for your concern," I replied, my voice steadier than I felt.

After dinner, I escaped to the garden, breathing in the cool night air. Something wasn't right. The way my parents looked at Yasmin... it was almost as if they knew her intimately. And Caspian's devotion to her went far beyond spiritual guidance.

---

"Mr. Chen will see you now, Ms. Harper."

I followed the receptionist through a maze of hallways to a small, windowless office. Marcus Chen rose from behind his desk, extending his hand.

"Presley Harper," he said, his grip firm. "I've read about your family in the business pages."

"Mr. Chen," I nodded, taking the seat he offered. "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice."

His office was sparse but efficient—a laptop, several filing cabinets, and a whiteboard covered in notes I couldn't quite make out.

"You mentioned on the phone this was about your husband," he said, pulling out a notepad.

"Yes." I took a deep breath. "Caspian Stewart. I need to know what he's doing at Serenity Springs Meditation Center. Specifically, with a woman named Yasmin Bell."

Marcus's expression remained neutral, but I caught a flicker of interest in his eyes. "You suspect an affair?"

"I don't know what to call it," I admitted. "He claims it's spiritual guidance, but..."

"But you need proof either way," Marcus finished for me. "I understand. My team can begin surveillance immediately."

He pulled out a contract, explaining his rates and methods. I signed without hesitation.

"We'll be discreet," he assured me. "No one will know you're investigating."

"Thank you," I said, rising to leave. "I need to know the truth."

---

Three days later, Marcus called me into his office again. His expression was grim as he closed the door behind me.

"Ms. Harper," he began, "I have the footage you requested."

He turned his laptop toward me, pressing play on a video file.

The camera showed the interior of what I recognized as the east meditation suite at Serenity Springs. Caspian and Yasmin sat facing each other, their eyes closed.

"Watch," Marcus said quietly.

Yasmin's hands moved to Caspian's shoulders, then down his chest in slow, deliberate movements.

"The physical body is our connection to the divine," she murmured in the video.

Caspian's eyes opened, dark with desire. "Show me," he whispered.

What followed made my stomach turn. Their "meditation" transformed into passionate embraces, their bodies entwined on the floor of the sacred space.

"This is... this is supposed to be spiritual?" I whispered, unable to look away.

"There's more," Marcus said, fast-forwarding through several clips. Each showed the same pattern—what began as "spiritual guidance" quickly became intimate encounters.

In one particularly damning scene, Yasmin giggled as she straddled Caspian. "This is how we reach enlightenment," she teased, leaning down to kiss him.

I felt sick. "How many times?"

"Every session for the past two weeks," Marcus replied. "Always following the same pattern."

I stared at the frozen image on the screen—Caspian's face transformed by pleasure, Yasmin's triumphant smile above him.

"So much for spiritual enlightenment," I whispered, a cold determination settling over me. "Thank you, Mr. Chen. I need copies of everything."