'I suspected my husband of cheating, so I followed him. He didn't go where I thought he would.'

As told to Ann DeGrey

I always thought I knew my partner Toby* inside out. We'd been together for years, and I trusted him with my life. We'd travelled together, worked together, and I was happy knowing I'd be spending my life with such an awesome guy. 

But then, a few months ago, things began to change. He started going out at odd hours, late at night, with strange excuses. "I'm catching up with a friend who's going through a tough breakup," he'd say. At first, I believed him. Why wouldn't I? But as the weeks went on, his stories became more unbelievable, and my suspicion grew. I'd ask him, which friend? I thought I knew all his friends. But he'd come up with a random name I'd never heard of and then mumble, "You haven't met him. An old workmate." I was so worried he was having an affair, but I couldn't quite believe he'd betray me like that.

I even confided in a close friend about my fears, and she suggested I confront him. But I was too scared of what I might hear.

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One night, we'd been in bed but he got up around 11pm and went out. I pretended I was asleep and then I decided I needed to take some kind of action. I ran out to my car and followed him, keeping a safe distance. He parked outside an RSL club, and my stomach dropped. This wasn't a place you'd go to late at night unless something off was happening. I waited in the shadows, feeling like a crazy woman… or a detective in a clichéd crime drama. After 30 minutes, I gathered the courage to go inside.

There he was, sitting in front of a pokie machine, lost in a trance. The flashing lights made him look like a different person. I couldn't believe it. All this time, while I was at home worrying about other women, he was here, gambling away our money. I felt a mix of relief and anger—relief that he wasn't cheating, but anger that he'd lied to me.

When he saw me, his jaw literally dropped, and his face turned pale. He knew his secret was up. He just got up and said he was sorry, and we left the club in silence.

At home, he broke down and confessed. Over the past two weeks, he had lost $13,000. I was stunned. We weren't rich by any means; that kind of money was a significant chunk of our savings!

"I'm so sorry," he kept saying. He told me he didn't know how it had gotten so out of control. It started with a few harmless games, but soon he was hooked, chasing his losses with more losses. He'd hit rock bottom and didn't know how to get out. He also told me that he had borrowed money from both of his siblings, as well as his father—he lied to them and said he was in debt but, in reality, he was gambling their hard earned cash. I was just horrified at the depth of his deception. He told me he owed his family around $25k and he's already planning to take on extra labouring work to pay them back. I told him he needs to come clean to his family. It's one thing to confess to me, but he needs to explain to his loved ones about what has been going on.   

I wanted to yell at him for lying to me. But I also saw that he was in pain; he was genuinely remorseful. That night, he promised to seek help, to talk to a counsellor and join a support group for gambling addicts. I promised to support him through this, but a part of me wondered if I'd ever be able to trust him again.

He attended his meetings, talked to a therapist, and even handed over his bank cards to me so he couldn't be tempted to play the pokies again. He confessed to his siblings and his dad about what he had done with their money, promising to pay them back. They are all very good, kind people and are trying to help him as much as they can. I'm also trying to be patient with Toby. But every time he left the house, I was worried he'd relapse. I'd check his phone, looking for any signs of gambling. It was exhausting.

There were days when I felt like giving up. There were a few times he said he was visiting his sister, and I'd find out he was at a pub with a friend. Was he playing the pokies there? I had no idea. I was so worried he'd relapse. But then I'd remember the man I fell in love with. The aftermath of his gambling addiction has been challenging. It explained so much—why money was disappearing, why he was so secretive. We decided that he would have a separate account, monitored closely, to manage his spending while we slowly rebuild our savings. This way, there's transparency and accountability, and I have some peace of mind.

I'm still worried, of course. Addiction isn't something that just goes away. There's always the fear that he could fall back into old habits.

*Name has been changed for privacy purposes.

The author of this story is known to Mamamia but has chosen to remain anonymous for privacy reasons.

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Feature image: Getty.