'Like the woman we’re thinking about after the "affair" video, I was the wife who was left behind.'

When I watched the Coldplay concert video that's been making waves all over the internet, I momentarily forgot to breathe.

You know the clip. Tens of millions, probably more by now, have seen it.

Watch: The moment the 'affair' was captured at the Coldplay concert. Post continues below.

A couple, believed to be Astronomer CEO Andy Byron and his HR chief, get spotlighted by the Kiss Cam. They appear alarmed, trying to hide. The audience chuckles and Coldplay frontman Chris Martin quips, "Either they're having an affair or they're just really shy."

And so, social media exploded; the video went viral. Speculation ensued. People shared their opinions. Memes emerged poking light of the situation.

My mind immediately turned to "her."

The woman not in the frame — one who might have been watching from home, or, found clips of her husband's alleged infidelity online — the wife.

Because truth be told, I've been in her shoes. I was the wife who was left behind.

I was the wife who was left behind. Image: Supplied.

Twenty years ago, I was living in a foreign country with my then-husband and our little daughter. He held an executive position, and we had relocated to focus on his career. From an outsider's perspective, we appeared to be a prosperous and flourishing family.

I had also put my career on hold to follow his and focus on our daughter. 

That was until I discovered his affair with a colleague. Everyone knew except me, and I found out via a text message. I never knew. However, looking back, I didn't trust my intuition because, deep down, I think I did know. 

Nothing prepares you for such a revelation. There's no guidebook, no script; just the gut-wrenching sting as a marriage shatters followed by an eerie silence.

Shortly after I finally found out, he left us. No discussion, he was just gone.

I remember collapsing into the corner of our apartment, shaking, crying for days that blurred into nights. I was shattered and lost in the kind of grief that steals your breath. My daughter was only four. She came over, placed her hand on mine, and said, "Mummy, please get up."

At that moment, I looked into her face, wide-eyed and innocent, waiting, and something in me shifted. I called every ounce of courage into my bones. I stood up, packed our bags, and walked out the door. I didn't know what waited on the other side.

But I knew I had to build a new life for us. 

When I watched the Coldplay footage, it wasn't just another viral clip; it was a powerful reminder. It brought back the feeling of carrying a trauma you didn't choose, pretending everything is okay while your life falls apart in private.

As people everywhere, from casual office chatter to formal boardroom discussions, dissected the video, I couldn't help but wonder: Where is she in all of this? The woman who remains unseen by the world. The one tasked with picking up the pieces.

We rarely discuss those left behind to make sense of a betrayal that defies understanding.

Supplied: TikTok/instaagraace.

As someone who advises CEOs, executives, and teams, I know this truth intimately. You can't separate your leadership at work from who you are in private. Leadership is integrity in action. It's about how you treat those who trust you the most, how consistent your values are when no one is watching, and what legacy you leave behind not just from your title at work or your LinkedIn profile but in people's hearts.

Upon returning to Australia, the path was incredibly tough. I submitted over 40 job applications, only to face rejection repeatedly. No-one wanted a single mum. This led me to question everything: my value, my skills, my future.

However, I gradually began to rebuild. I launched my own leadership company, authored books, took to the speaking stage, raised my daughter, and mentored other women who didn't see their worth and greatness. I did this alone. I am beyond proud of who I am today. 

I am not saying it was easy. However, I led not just in the boardroom but from a foundation of authenticity, resilience, and compassion. I became a woman who became fierce and passionate about building greater humans and leaders. I learnt some things on the journey to the other side.

Your value isn't defined by someone else's actions. Their betrayal reflects their own character, not your worth. You remain whole, worthy, and sufficient.

You can start anew — even when it feels daunting. It might not be the life you envisioned, but it can be something fresh, genuine, and uniquely yours. The first step? Believing you deserve better.

Your pain holds power — it transforms into your strength. What once broke you can become the story that aids another's healing as well as your own. You will become the wisdom, empathy, and courage that only experience can bring.

Be kind to yourself. You don't need all the answers. Healing isn't a straight path. Some days you'll feel courageous, other days fragile. Both are okay. Treat yourself with kindness always.

Rediscover your courage. It takes courage to leave, to stay, to rebuild, to trust anew, and to speak your truth. That courage resides within you. Times like this build it like a muscle.

Self-worth is your cornerstone. You never lost it; you just temporarily forgot. Reclaim it, nurture it, and protect it fiercely. Once you recognise your worth, everything begins to shift.

So, to the woman whose heart might have shattered watching that video, if that's you, I understand. I know the loneliness and heartache you're experiencing. I know the sleepless nights, the times when you want to scream, cry, and vanish all at once.

You're not weak for loving someone who deceived you. You're not naive for having faith in your relationship. And you are not broken. You are growing stronger. Even now.

Feature image: Supplied/TikTok/instaagraace.