How I Found Out My Wife Was Cheating With My Best Friend

I trusted two people with my life. They buried the knife deep—and twisted it.

My name is Kelechi. I’m 38. A civil engineer based in Port Harcourt. And until about 9 months ago, I thought I had the perfect life.

A good job. A decent car. A woman I married out of love. And a best friend, Akin, whom I’d known since NYSC. We were more like brothers than friends. Our families even spent holidays together.

Looking back now, the signs were there. I was just too blind, too trusting—or maybe too much in love—to notice.

It started with the little things.

Akin would always “drop by” my house when I wasn’t around. He’d say he was in the area, bored, or coming to borrow something. I didn’t think much of it. He was my guy. My ride-or-die. My best man at our wedding, for crying out loud.

My wife, Adaeze, never complained. In fact, they seemed to get along too well. They laughed at inside jokes I wasn’t even part of. But I thought, “It’s better they get along than hate each other, right?”

Foolish me.

The first real crack came in June.

I traveled for a three-day site inspection in Akwa Ibom. Came back early—wanted to surprise Adaeze. Instead, I surprised myself.

I walked into the bedroom and found her in a towel, giggling on a video call.

She jumped when she saw me.

“Who were you talking to?”
“Ah! Nobody important. Just my cousin, Chika,” she said too quickly.

But her phone screen was still on. I saw the name Akin before it went black.

My heart stopped. But I let it slide. Maybe it was innocent. Maybe I was just being paranoid.

Then came the receipts. Literally.

Two months later, I took her car for servicing. While cleaning the glove box, I found a hotel receipt—₦22,000. Afro Suites, GRA. Dated the exact weekend I had traveled to Abuja for a seminar.

I called her immediately.

“Were you at Afro Suites two weeks ago?”
“Afro what? Me? God forbid. I’ve never even heard of it.”

I sent her a picture of the receipt.

Silence.

Then tears.

Then the usual “It’s not what you think.”

She claimed she went there to meet a friend who was going through something. That she only stayed for a few hours. That nothing happened.

I wanted to believe her. But my stomach said otherwise.

The final blow came from my younger sister.

She sent me a WhatsApp message one night. Just two words and a blurry picture:

“Check this.”

It was Adaeze. Sitting in a restaurant in town. Holding hands with Akin across the table. The kind of hold that wasn’t innocent. His fingers were playing with hers.

I couldn’t breathe.

I drove straight to Akin’s place that night. He wasn’t home. I called him. He didn’t pick. I called Adaeze. Same thing.

They were probably together.

Confrontation.

I didn’t even wait till morning.

By 6 a.m., I was at home, waiting. She walked in around 6:45 a.m., trying to sneak in.

“Where are you coming from, Adaeze?”

She froze. “I was at Chika’s place.”

The lie came too easily.

I showed her the picture.

Silence.

Then came the breakdown. Crying. Apologies. Begging. She confessed to everything.

“It only happened a few times… I didn’t plan it… He was just always around… I didn’t mean for it to happen…”

It was like watching someone dig their own grave.

I lost two people in one day.

I called Akin.

No denial. No shame.

“Guy, I’m sorry. I messed up. I didn’t mean to betray you.”

Didn’t mean to?

He slept with my wife multiple times and claimed it wasn’t intentional.

I blocked him. Till today, I’ve never said another word to him.

Where am I now?

I moved out for a while. Stayed in a hotel for 2 weeks to clear my head.

My wife begged. Her family begged. Even my pastor begged.

But trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild.

We’re in counseling now. Trying to see if there’s anything worth saving. For the sake of our 4-year-old son.

But every time I look at her, I see him. And that haunts me.

Final Thoughts

If you’re reading this and you’re married or in a relationship, let me tell you:

• Don’t ignore the signs.

• Don’t trust blindly.

• And above all, protect your peace.

I’m not perfect. Maybe I was too busy with work. Maybe I wasn’t present enough. But no one deserves what I went through.

This isn’t just a story. It’s my truth.

🧠 Would You Forgive If It Were You?

Drop your comments below. Let’s talk.