For the past three months, my husband (let’s call him Jason, 34M) has been coming home at 11 PM or midnight, sometimes even later. His excuse? Always “Overtime.” He claims his manufacturing company is pushing a new project, and he’s the “key person” who must be there to stabilize things.
“I’m doing this for us, for our BTO future,” he’d say, looking all tired and stressed.
I, the stupid wife, actually believed him. I made sure there was soup warm on the stove. I did all the housework so he could just collapse when he got back. I felt guilty when I complained about not spending time together. I thought, at least he’s working hard for our future, right?
But something just felt… off. Since when does manufacturing overtime require you to shower immediately when you come home before I can even hug you? Since when did his phone started having a password, and he’d take it to the toilet for 20 minutes?
So yesterday, Jason calls me at 6 PM. Same old story: “Got crisis at the plant, have to stay late. Don’t wait up, I eat nearby later.”
Normally I would stay home and scroll TikTok, but my sister was visiting, and she wanted to go to Geylang for the famous frog porridge. We parked near Lorong 11 and started walking toward the restaurant area.
As we were walking past one of those brightly lit outdoor seafood joints—the ones that are always packed with PRC crowd eating xiao long xia (crayfish)—my sister suddenly grabs my arm hard.
“Eh, isn’t that Jason?”
I looked where she was pointing. My heart literally stopped.
There he was. At a corner table, tucked away, but still visible from the street. The “tired, working hard for our BTO” husband.
He wasn’t in his work uniform. He was wearing the new polo shirt I bought him, laughing loudly, his face flush with beer. He was peelng a piece of crayfish, and I watched in horror as he fed it to the woman sitting opposite him.
The woman was significantly younger, very slim, wearing makeup that was far too glam for a casual hawker meal, and she had that very distinct mainland Chinese accent as she giggled. She was dressed like she was going clubbing, not eating seafood in Geylang. They were touching hands, leaning in close, looking precisely like a couple in love.
I was standing there, numb. It felt like I was in a bad Mediacorp drama. My sister was asking me if I wanted to confront them, but my legs wouldn’t move. I took out my phone and took a photo of them—feeding each other crayfish, holding hands.
Jason never saw me. I left. I couldn’t face him there.
I got home before him. At 11:30 PM, the door opened. He walked in, smelling of beer, crayfish, and some perfume that is definitely not mine.
“So tired,” he sighed, dumping his bag. ” Crisis solved. Did you have dinner?”
I looked at him. “How was the ‘overtime’ at Geylang, Jason?”
His face went completely pale. He froze. “What? What are you talking about? I was at the plant.”
“Really?” I pulled out my phone and played the photo of him feeding crayfish to his mistress. “This is a plant? What manufacturing project are you doing in Geylang, Lorong 11?”
The lies came tumbling out. “I… I just bumped into a client! We had to discuss business!” “She’s just a colleague!” “You are misunderstanding everything!”
He wouldn’t admit it. He actually tried to gaslight me, saying I was crazy and insecure. But the photo doesn’t lie. The beer, the laughter, the intimacy. My warm soup on the stove while he feeds crayfish to another woman.
I don’t know what to do. My BTO is completing in six months. I feel so humiliated and broken. How can someone lie so easily to your face?
I sent him out of the house to sleep at his friend’s place. I can’t breathe. Any advice from Reddit Singapore? Anyone experienced this and how did you even survive?
TL;DR: Husband lied about OT for months. Actually spent every night with PRC mistress. Caught him yesterday at Geylang seafood stall feeding her crayfish, 6 months before BTO. Feel stupid.