I Divorced Him When He Stopped Playing Games

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My husband, Mark, used to be glued to his computer games, but lately, he's stopped. Now, it's his phone that's always burning hot.

As his thumbs flew across the screen again, I asked casually, How come you're not gaming anymore?

He didn't even look up, just scratched the back of his neck and chuckled. "Ugh, the boss has been piling on the work. Just coordinating with him now."

That same old line.

Later, after hed fallen asleep, I stared at his still-warm phone. I remembered the goofy smile plastered on his face while he was typing and picked it up. I entered my birthday.

Incorrect Password.

Every password hed ever had was my birthday. When had that changed?

My heart sank. I tried our daughter Annies birthday.

Incorrect Password.

Our wedding anniversary.

Incorrect Password.

When did we start having secrets that I wasn't a part of?

I placed the phone back where I found it and lay down beside him, staring into the darkness for the rest of the night.

Around 4 a.m., a harsh cough echoed from Annies room. I rushed in and touched her forehead. It was scorching.

"Mark! Wake up! Annie's burning up!" I shook my husband, who was dead to the world.

He shoved my hand away, irritated. "What are you yelling about in the middle of the night?"

"Annie has a high fever! We need to go to the hospital!"

He finally, reluctantly, cracked his eyes open, mumbling, "I'm exhausted from overtime. You go. It's normal for kids to get fevers."

"What overtime?" A fire ignited in my gut.

He ignored me, rolling over. "Seriously, I was reporting to my boss."

I looked at his back, done wasting my breath. I scooped up my daughter and ran out of the house.

The late-night emergency room was chaotic and overcrowded. I held my feverish, dazed daughter in my arms, juggling registration, waiting in line, and getting her temperature taken. I was a frantic one-woman show.

The doctor prescribed some medication and told me to pay at the cashier. I pulled out the joint savings card we had, the one specifically for all of Annies expenses.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, you have insufficient funds," the cashier said, her voice edged with impatience.

"That's impossible!" I blurted out. "There's fifty thousand dollars in that account!"

She pushed the card back toward me. "There's nothing in it. Do you have another card?"

Fine. Paying was the priority. I used my phone to pay, and then, with trembling hands, I tried to log into our mobile banking app to check the card's balance.

Incorrect Password.

I was completely adrift, but I had to push it aside for now.

By the time I carried Annie back home, dawn was breaking. Mark was still sound asleep, his phone plugged in and blinking on the nightstand.

I settled Annie into her bed and walked over to his side.

This time, I picked up his phone and aimed it at his sleeping face.

Click.

It unlocked.

On the phone's home screen was the icon for a mobile game I'd never seen before. It had a sugary-sweet, pastel aestheticnot something Mark would ever play.

I tapped it.

The login screen was bypassed, and I was dropped directly into the game world. At the bottom of the screen, a chat window was blinking insistently.

A username, "SweetheartBunny," caught my eye.

SweetheartBunny: Babe, are you asleep? I can't sleep. I miss you so much.

Mark's username was "BunnyProtector."

BunnyProtector: Be good, baby girl. Daddy has to work tomorrow. Go to sleep.

SweetheartBunny: Nooo. You didn't give me my goodnight kiss today. (blushing emoji)

BunnyProtector: Mwah, mwah, mwah. My baby is the best.

SweetheartBunny: Babe, that new Starlight Carriage mount is so pretty. The top player in our server, DragonLord, bought it for his wife right away. It was a server-wide announcement.

BunnyProtector: Don't you worry, baby girl. Daddy will buy it for you today!

SweetheartBunny: Wow! You're the best, babe! I love you! I bet your wife has no idea you're this good to me, hehe.

BunnyProtector: Don't mention that hag. Kills the mood.

My finger froze on the word "hag." My heart physically ached.

I backed out and opened the game's purchase history. A dizzying, endless list of numbers filled the screen. Transaction after transaction of $99.99.

I did a quick mental calculation. In just three months, he had poured over twenty thousand dollars into this stupid game.

That was the money we had worked so hard to save. It was our future. It was our daughter's college fund, her medical fund!

Forcing myself to stay calm, I quit the game and started digging through his messages. It didn't take long to find the familiar bunny avatar. Her display name was also "SweetheartBunny," but the contact name was saved as: Jenny Lee, 24, College Student.

Her profile pictures showed a girl who looked deceptively innocent, flashing a peace sign at the camera with big, round eyes.

The chat history was even more explicit than the game chat. They had shared intimate photos. There were records of video calls, their contents long gone. The last one was from the exact time he claimed to be working overtime.

Worse, there were pictures of me he had secretly taken, accompanied by his commentary.

"Look at this hag. The stretch marks on her stomach are disgusting."

"Not like my Jenny. So smooth and perfect."

Her reply was a close-up selfie. "You like this then, daddy?"

"I love it!"

I opened the transaction records. One transfer after another, for cute, romantic amounts. The notes read:

"For my baby's new purse."

"For my baby's vacation fund."

"Don't be mad, baby, it's all my fault."

It added up to another ten thousand dollars.

My hand was shaking as I tapped on the mobile banking app for that savings card again.

Balance: $48.31.

That account once held fifty thousand dollars, money I had earned working side-hustles, planning for our daughters future. Annie has a congenital heart defect. He knew better than anyone how much she needed that money. When I gave him the card three years ago, he swore he wouldn't touch a single penny. Now, he'd given it all away to that woman.

At that moment, I couldn't even cry.

I looked at my daughter's small face, flushed from the fever, and felt my heart turn to stone.

I picked up my own phone. I documented everything. Every page of his phone, every chat log, every transaction, every in-game purchase.

Photos, screenshots, screen recordings.

Then, I backed up all the evidence to my personal cloud drive.

By the time I was done, the sun was up.

All that was left was vengeance.

Mark finally shuffled out of the bedroom around noon the next day, yawning. He froze when he saw me, then quickly plastered a look of concern on his face.

"Honey, how's Annie? I was just so exhausted last night. I'm so sorry."

He moved to hug me. A cloying perfume that wasn't mine, mingled with the stale scent of a middle-aged man trying too hard, washed over me. My stomach churned, and I instinctively sidestepped him.

"She's fine. The fever broke," I said, my voice flat.

My calmness seemed to catch him off guard, but he quickly recovered.

"See? I told you. Kids get fevers. It's normal. It passes quickly. Come on, Annie, let daddy hold you." He put on a show of scooping her up, his face a mask of cheap affection.

Looking at him made me sick.

"I have an emergency at the office. I have to go," I said, grabbing my purse.

"Go, go! I've got things covered here," he said with a wave, playing the part of the perfect family man.

Not long after I left, he posted on social media: "Daddyduty day! Poor Annie had a fever last night, my heart just breaks for her."

Before I could even finish reading, a message from my mother-in-law popped up.

"Sarah, dear, when you're not busy, could you perhaps help my son out more with the child?"

"If he's so tied up with chores, it will affect his career."

"As a woman, you should focus more on the home."

I knew Mark had been feeding them his stay-at-home-dad act again. I didn't reply. I just closed the app.

I didn't go to the office.

Instead, I dialed a number I hadn't called in years. "Hello, Luke? It's me, Sarah."

A warm voice answered. "Sarah? It's been a while. What's up?"

"Luke, are you still handling divorce cases?"

"I am. If you need something, let's meet up and talk."

Luke, my old friend from college, was now one of the top divorce attorneys in the city.

At a quiet coffee shop, I told him everything, showing him the evidence I'd backed up. With every word, his expression grew darker.

"Bastard!" he finally slammed his fist on the table, making the people nearby jump. "This isn't just cheating! This is malicious transfer of marital assets! Sarah, don't worry. I'll see you through this."

"What do I do?"

"Stay calm." Luke shifted back into professional mode. "The evidence you have proves he cheated and squandered your money. But to leave him with nothing, we need more. We need undeniable proof that he deliberately planned to move these assets."

"For now, you need to play along. Keep being the perfect wife and mother. And then..."

He showed me how to install a hidden recording app on my phone and helped me order tiny cameras for a few key spots in our house.

"Remember," he said, "the most damning evidence is when they condemn themselves in their own words."

When I got home, Mark was lounging on the sofa, legs crossed, ordering our recovering daughter to get him a glass of water while he played on his phone.

He saw me and immediately started complaining. "Where have you been? I'm starving."

I bit back the hatred and forced a smile. "Okay, I'll start dinner right now."

As I turned away, I heard the familiar sound of his game starting up, followed by him cooing the word "baby."

Mark, oh, Mark. Are you really so brazen you'd flirt with her right in front of me?