Dear Mistress: An Open Letter to You

A letter I never thought I’d have to write.

Dear Mistress,

As the wife who shared over two decades and raised nine children with the man you call “Papi,” I have some things I want to say. And if you ever read this, I have questions I’d love answers to, if you’re willing.

Lately, I’ve found myself thinking about you. Not with anger or resentment, but with a lingering curiosity.

First, I want you to know I don’t blame you. But sometimes, I wonder, did you ever question what it was like for me, his wife? Did you ever think what this might do to our children? I wonder about you, deep down what kind of woman you are. Why would you involve yourself with a man who so easily disregarded his family?

I can’t help but wonder, was it just a game for you from the beginning?

While knowing the truth won’t change anything, it offers me a deeper understanding. You see, I’ve closed this chapter of our story. We’re finished, it’s done — and I’m more than willing to hand him over. But it wasn’t so easy at first, it took time for my heart to heal, and I’m still not sure if my children ever will.

I simply long to know the deeper meaning — did he throw away our marriage for something meaningful? Or did he, the architect of the game, become an unknowing pawn in yours?

I wonder what you saw in him. Was he simply an escape, a chance for something new and exciting? Looking at your photo, I’d guess you easily saw him coming. As a woman, you could sense his desire to be young and free again, no matter the cost.

Perhaps it was both, but I have a feeling you understood him all too well — at least that’s my suspicion.

Does my lack of anger surprise you? After all, you were the one who crept into our lives, sneaking behind me and my children’s back. The one stealing moments I once thought rightfully belonged to us.

Did you ever feel a pang of guilt, a flicker of doubt, as he adored you with gifts and affection that weren’t really yours to take?

I remember the day I found those photos of you. My heart pounded in my chest, my worst fears confirmed. You wore a mocking smile, your sun-kissed body spilling out of your barely-there swimsuit. Lazily lounging by the pool — at our timeshare in Cancun. I studied your face, your carefree smile, flaunting your youth in a way that captivated his deepest desires.

But no matter how much I searched I couldn’t find any heartfelt joy in your eyes.

I want to say, that I never directed blame towards you. Because deep down, I knew you weren’t the problem. The responsibility rested solely on his shoulders, as a husband and a father. He made the vows, promising his forever commitment. He broke his word — not you.

His actions have spoken louder than his words, his children were watching then, and still are now — he’s the one needing to lead by example.

I wonder, have you ever experienced the pain of betrayal, the feeling of being replaced or discarded?

What I know is you are a woman, someone’s daughter, maybe a future mother and wife one day. I know you have your own story, your own wounds, your own battles in this sometimes difficult world. And I know you, like me, are capable of stumbling. Of seeking validation or meaning in misguided ways.

I don’t know your whole story, but I know you’re young, free, and have no kids or obligations. You live in Brazil and call him Papi — the same way his children called him. Perhaps you were lonely? Maybe you were searching for something, a connection, an escape.

I’m curious, what was it about my ex-husband that drew you in — a man with so much excess baggage? Did all our history not matter? I don’t condone what you did, but I also don’t condemn you.

You willingly entered the ignited game of fire, a perfect fit for his fixation on younger Brazilian women. Yet, irony intervened. You turned the tables, from predator to prey, a victim of his own secretive scheme.

You did to him what he so easily did to me; you broke the breaker.

I can’t help but wonder…if ever one day you’re in my shoes, and you were the one betrayed — would you still find the game fun?

Your unexpected entrance, while unwelcome, was a much-needed intrusion into our well-constructed life. It forced me to confront the man I was married to, revealing a capacity for deceit I never imagined. And while the truth was devastating, it ripped the blindfold from my eyes. The brutal awakening forced me to see him for who he truly was.

Your presence allowed me — my family — to move on and see what life was without him.

I can’t deny the shattering of my heart. It ached for the future I’d envisioned — graduations, weddings, grandchildren filling our home with laughter. These were the dreams I’d so carefully nurtured, the hopes I clung to. But sometimes things have to come crashing down in order to see the beautiful possibilities.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” — Anaïs Nin

I’d allowed him to take all of me. Burying my needs and desires for the sake of his happiness. In the quiet corners of my heart, I knew I deserved more. But I clung to the illusion that a perfect wife, would never give him reason to stray.

My greatest desire was to provide our children with the stable home I never had. It was a promise I made to myself, a vow I’d uphold at any cost. But in relentless pursuit of this ideal, I lost sight of myself. Sometimes, as mothers, we happily sacrifice, losing pieces of ourselves, more than we realize.

We willingly give our lives, happiness, and desires for the greater good.

So, I settled into a life with him I gave my all to, convincing myself I was good. But beneath the surface, a quiet despair simmered. Looking back, it’s clear my attempts to hold us together at all costs weren’t in the best interest of anybody, especially the children.

It’s excruciatingly difficult to surrender our dreams, to let go of all the years together, and to cut our losses from an investment you believed was lifelong.

But sometimes, the bravest act is to acknowledge when a battle is lost.

It’s a hard lesson to learn, that sometimes the things we clung most tightly to were not worth the fight. But, I can see the bigger picture, I have no regrets or hold any resentment. I’ve come to appreciate the wisdom gained from this experience.

And thankfully, I can still see the beauty of what remains, in the love I have for my children. For all I’ve been given.

My children were worth every sacrifice and remain my greatest treasures. You’ve shown me the wisdom in honoring my heart and needs as a woman, not just as a mother and wife. My children will grow up with these lessons.

And that’s the main point of this letter to you: to tell you I owe you a debt of gratitude. I’d probably never have let go of us if it weren’t for you. I would’ve kept trying to do more, be more, all in the name of making him happy, to make sure our family was alright.

I thank you for the unintended gift of clarity. For showing me I’m strong enough to face darkness and emerge even brighter. For reminding me my worth is not determined by him — or anyone else. This truth allowed me to move on and embrace our new future. And though my family looks different now, we’re more than okay.

What a beautiful gift of freedom, one I could never possibly repay.

I wish you well on your own journey, mistress. May you find the love and happiness you seek, in a way that honors both your heart and the hearts of others.

“Not all storms come to disrupt your life, some come to clear your path.” — Mandy Hale

Authors note: If you’re going through a similar situation, know this is not the end. It may feel like your world is shattering, but you have the power to choose what grows from broken pieces. Forgive yourself, forgive them — and most importantly, forgive life for the unexpected turns it takes. A new beginning awaits, so give yourself the gift of time to focus on your healing, to create a life that truly reflects your worth.