'My husband of 10 years was acting suspicious. Then I saw who'd sent him an email.'

As told to Ann DeGrey.

I'd been married to Marty* for nearly a decade, and while we'd faced our share of challenges over the years, I would've told anyone who asked that our relationship was solid. Not perfect — what marriage is? — but good enough. Comfortable. Steady. A good solid relationship. But, of course, there were some big cracks in the foundation.

A few years ago, Marty had a fling with a woman from his work, a colleague he'd been "working late" with way too often. I found out by accident, scrolling through his phone while he was in the shower. Curiosity killed the cat; I still don't know what possessed me to look. I confronted him, and he confessed, begging me for forgiveness. I loved him very much so I forgave him.

But now I wish I'd just let him go and ran…

Watch: Women seem to catch men cheating like this an awful lot……Post continues below.

Eighteen months down the track, Marty started acting differently. There were little things that didn't sit right. He'd always have his phone in his hand, even taking it to the toilet with him. He'd suddenly be glued to his laptop late at night, claiming he was catching up on work. And then there were countless times when he'd get this faraway look, like his mind was a thousand miles away.

When I asked him what was going on, he'd brush me off.

"You're imagining things," he'd say, or, "Work's just stressful right now." But something in my gut told me it was more than that. I tried to ignore it, telling myself I was just being paranoid because of what happened in the past.

Then, one evening, everything unravelled. He'd left his laptop open on the kitchen counter. We'd finished dinner and he was outside, playing with the kids, while I was cleaning up.

I wasn't planning to snoop. But, as I walked past, I saw an email pop up on the screen. The subject line read: "Bad news darling." Who was calling him darling? I quickly clicked on the email and the first line I read was "My darling, I think I'm pregnant again."

My heart stopped. I froze there, staring at the screen, my mind racing. The sender's name was one I didn't recognise — some woman named Linh*. The email was short and to the point. She was writing to tell Marty she thought she was pregnant again and asking him when he'd be able to send more money. Pregnant again? Send more money?

As I read further, it didn't take long for the pieces to fall into place. Linh wasn't just some stranger. She was someone Marty was clearly involved with. Someone he was supporting. Someone he'd had a child with. I felt sick to my stomach and felt like I was about to faint.

When Marty came back inside, he took one look at my face and stopped cold. I pointed to the laptop screen and asked, "Who is Linh? Why is she telling you that she's pregnant?"

His face went white. He looked guilty as sin. For a moment, I thought he might lie, come up with some ridiculous excuse. But there was no way to explain this pregnancy news. He sat at the table with his face in his hands. Eventually he said, "I was going to tell you."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing! He admitted it all; how he'd met Linh during a business trip to Cambodia two years ago. It started as a fling but then she fell pregnant and has a son; Marty's son. So that explains all those trips to Cambodia!

I later found out that the business deal had fallen apart a long time ago, so he had no need to return, aside from spending time with his girlfriend and baby boy. And now, she was pregnant again. I sent the kids to play at our neighbours' house so I could yell at Marty without upsetting them. I felt like a walking cliché, asking, "Are you in love with her?" Of course, the answer was yes. Then, I asked to see a photo of his son. (I wish I hadn't because that utterly destroyed me.)

"I didn't mean for it to happen. I was lonely. I was stupid. But I couldn't just abandon them," he said. And all this time, he'd been lying to my face, pretending to be the husband and father I thought I loved.

And then, by the end of the night, he'd packed a suitcase and left me crying alone, slamming the front door behind him.

I felt so stupid for forgiving him the first time. For trusting him. For believing we could fix what was broken. A friend told me that "a leopard doesn't change its spots," which is such a cliché but, in Marty's case, it was glaringly true. I'm a very forgiving person. But this? This is something I can't forgive.

He didn't just betray me; he built a whole other life behind my back. A life I had no clue existed. We are divorced now and he is planning on moving to Cambodia before bringing his family back to Australia. I know this because our eldest daughter has been told about her "other family."

So now I'm a single mum and, the worst part is, I don't even know if I'll ever fully recover from this.

Feature: Getty.