I came home early one night and found my husband and sister together in my bed. Heartbroken, I left with my toddler and disappeared from their lives for seven years, raising my son alone and carrying the betrayal in silence.
Years later, my sister begged to see me. I learned my husband was terminally ill, and they had lived with guilt ever since, saving money for my son’s future as a way to atone. Seeing their remorse, I chose forgiveness—not to erase the past, but to free myself. I used the money for my husband’s treatment, and against all odds, he began to recover. Sometimes, forgiveness doesn’t just heal hearts—it changes lives.
