It was a routine op but I needed some TLC from my fiance. So where was he?
By Becka Davies, 24, from Newport
I rolled my eyes as Geraint bundled through the front door, dropping his kit bag on the floor.
‘Me and some mates have set up a new rugby team,’ he blurted, grinning from ear to ear. ‘It’s brilliant. They’re friends from high school, we’re going to play Sevens.’
I sighed. That’s all I needed. More rugby.
Geraint had always been rugby mad. The captain of our local club he was heavily involved with all the social and fundraising events, as well as the matches. Now he’d launched a new team?
‘You spend more time with your rugby mates than you do with me,’ I grumbled, curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea.
I couldn’t make too much of a fuss though. The sport was Geraint’s passion – and I’d known that since we were childhood sweethearts all those years before.
It was only in the last five years that we’d really committed to each other, moving into our own place together and getting engaged.
‘You love it really,’ Geraint joked, wrapping me up in a big hug.
‘Hmm, I’m not sure I love that,’ I replied, looking at the pile of kit in a muddy heap next to the washing machine.
We hadn’t gone to the same school as kids so I didn’t know any of the mates Geraint had set up this new team with. At least I was involved with his main club. Not that it was worth complaining – I knew rugby came first!
The only thing keeping us apart was my terrible snoring, which meant we slept in separate beds.
‘When are you going to get it sorted out?’ Geraint asked, as he grabbed a pillow and padded to the spare room next door.
I looked at him and sighed: ‘I’ve tried everything Geraint, I’m going to the doctor again to see what he says.’
I’d already had my tonsils out but when that didn’t do the trick, medics suggested an operation to remove my adenoids.
‘I’ll get you booked in for surgery,’ the doctor explained.
I smiled back nervously. I was keen to get my snoring sorted so I could cuddle up to my man in bed again but the thought of going under a general anaesthetic scared me.
‘And don’t get me started on the op itself,’ I told Geraint later. ‘Surgeons are going to slice into my face… eeeurgh.’ I shuddered, as a wave of nausea washed over me.
When the date for the op in Heath Hospital, Cardiff, came up, I really needed Geraint there to hold my hand. But he had other plans…
‘Sorry Becka, I’m out with the rugby lads. It’s just a routine procedure anyway – you’ll be fine.’
I sighed as I watched him head out of the door. ‘Fine, I’ll ask a friend to come with me then!’
Thankfully the surgery was a success but when I came round, I was groggy, swollen and sore.
‘You alright then?’ Geraint asked when he popped into the recovery ward afterwards. ‘Hmmm…’ I just about managed to mumble through the swelling.
He didn’t quite check his watch but I could tell Geraint was itching to leave to get back to his team mates. Nothing new there then – rugby always comes first, even when I’m in hospital.
‘It’s ok, you can go. I’m fine,’ I told him feebly. Geraint’s face practically lit up and he vanished almost as soon as he’d appeared. ‘Thanks, bye!’ he smiled.
A few weeks after the operation, Geraint headed out with his rugby mates again. ‘It’s just a social with the boys from the club. I won’t be too late,’ he grinned as he grabbed his coat and made for the door.
I’d curled up for a night in but then my phone beeped with a message from my friend. Do you know Geraint is out with a girl? He’d typed.
What girl? I clicked into the message and tapped out a reply. No. I thought he was with the rugby lads.
Seconds later my phone beeped again. This time my friend had sent a picture of Geraint… but the scrum he was in wasn’t at the rugby club – it was a night club. And who was the hooker he was dancing with?
I zoomed in on the photo and immediately recognised his ex-girlfriend, Carys*. What was he doing with her?
Furious, I typed out a text to Geraint and hit ‘send’. I know you’re out with your ex. That’s enough, I stormed.
Minutes later, my phone lit up with a reply – only it was from his ex. I don’t see what the problem is? You split up, you’re not even together now!
I was fuming. Not together? We were engaged and living together!
I was shaking with anger when Carys asked if we could meet to talk things through. Fine, I’ll be there in ten minutes, I typed back.
It was three o’clock in the morning but I wanted to get to the bottom of this now. ‘No time like the present,’ I muttered to myself as I pulled on a pair of old jogging bottoms and headed into town.
‘I honestly didn’t know,’ Carys insisted when we met in the street outside the club. ‘Geraint said he was single. We’ve been back together six months.’
I tried to keep it together as Geraint’s double life unravelled. ‘He got in touch with me via Facebook – look,’ she went on, showing me Geraint’s profile on her phone.
I felt the bile rise in my throat as I realised it was a second Facebook profile. He must have created it so he could live out his second life without suspicion.
‘Sorry, I didn’t know,’ she went on. ‘You deserve better.’
She seemed mortified but I just couldn’t believe Carys hadn’t known about me.
Geraint didn’t come home that night, but he phoned and even sent flowers when he realised he’d been caught in the act.
I was still reeling from the shocking discovery but Carys saved the biggest bombshell for last. A couple of days later, she contacted me via Facebook.
‘He was with me when you had your operation,’ she told me. ‘After leaving you in hospital he came to see me. We had sex.’
My mind raced as I realised all the dates stacked up. It was almost too much to bear. My fiance had left me on the operating table to have sex with his ex!
I’d heard enough and that day, I kicked my rugby rat into touch. ‘Look at me Geraint,’ I cried, after I’d driven to meet him at a random spot.
I’d lost weight after my heartbreak and, dressed in my pyjamas without a scrap of make-up on, I wanted him to see how much he’d hurt me.
‘You did this! I can’t see you any more. It’s over,’ I told him.
Geraint looked awful too but I didn’t want to hear his excuses. He went to stay with his dad and after initially giving me some space, he begged for forgiveness.
For eight months, he pursued me, sending flowers and messages. When Geraint saw me on nights out in town, he’d buy me drinks and send them across the bar to me. But I never drank them.
It was only after we met for his mum’s 50th birthday party, that I thawed. ‘Can I get you a drink that you won’t send back?’ he asked tentatively, a nervous smile spreading across his lips.
Slowly, I relented. It wasn’t easy but Geraint earned back my trust. He even proposed again in exactly the same way he had before – on Penarth Pier, with a celebration at Celtic Manor afterwards.
Now, we have a gorgeous 10-week old baby girl together and we’ve never been closer.
After Geraint cheated while I was in hospital, he was well and truly in the sin bin – but I’m so glad I gave our love a second try.
Geraint says: “I stupidly made contact with my ex, and one thing led to another. I had an old Facebook profile which I reactivated and used to contact her and it helped me lead two separate lives. When Becka was in hospital, I’m ashamed to say I went to see my ex and we had sex. For six months I was seeing her behind Becka’s back, and pretended I was out with the rugby boys. It was the worst thing I’ve ever done. I’m so happy she’s given me a second chance and I certainly won’t be doing that again.”
*Carys’ name has been changed