My Husband Started Sneaking out of the House at Night — I Thought He Was Cheating but the Truth Was Far, Far Worse

I thought I knew my husband. After fifteen years, two kids, and our cat Max, life was stable—even boring. But then Tom started sneaking out at night.

At first, I dismissed it as insomnia. But soon it became routine—he’d slip out after midnight and return hours later, reeking of smoke and something floral I couldn’t place. I started suspecting the worst: he was cheating.

Determined to catch him in the act, I followed him one night.

He moved fast through backstreets until he reached a run-down, abandoned building. I hesitated but couldn’t ignore my gut—something was very wrong. I slipped inside after him.

The place was dark, damp, and lit only by candles. I followed the sound of chanting to a basement… and froze.

Tom stood in the center, wearing a dark robe, surrounded by others in similar attire. They were chanting, and in his hands—was Max.

On the altar in front of him: rose petals, a brass bowl… and a knife.

I snapped photos, heart pounding, then called 911.

But when I saw the knife lift, instinct took over. I charged down the stairs, yelling, “If you touch my cat, you’re all going to jail!”

Everything stopped. The cult leader tried to approach me—I pepper sprayed him.

“Max, come!” I shouted. He ran to me, and we burst outside just as police cars pulled up. Officers stormed in and arrested everyone, including Tom.

Turns out, they were using drugs in initiation rituals. Sacrificing Max was meant to “bless” the new members.

Tom begged for forgiveness. I couldn’t even look at him. This wasn’t an affair—it was something far darker.

The kids and I moved out the next day. Divorce is next. I still ask myself:
Who was the man I married all these years?