My name’s Nicole. I’m 36 and married with two kids and three cats. I run a small bakery downtown and love sharing photos of my life on Facebook. It’s my way of celebrating little moments and achievements… a slice of happiness in the digital world. That was, until I stumbled upon an extremely nasty comment from a stranger, and my heart sank…

The vicious comments were from someone calling themselves “Bradley.” I rubbed my eyes, praying I’d misread, but the words remained, sharp as knives:

“Ever catch your reflection? 😆Bet that mirror’s begging for a break from your ugly body!”

My stomach churned as I scrolled down to another:

“Wow, the ego on you! Did you seriously think people were dying to see that train wreck you call a face?😏🤢😆”

I set my phone down, my hands shaking. Who would say such awful things? I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

“Mom, are you okay?” my daughter Jill asked, peering at me from across the table.

I plastered on a smile. “Of course, sweetie. Just… reading something silly online.”

“Can I see?” she reached for my phone.

I snatched it away quickly. “No! I mean, it’s nothing interesting. How about we finish your homework?”

Jill’s brow furrowed, but she nodded and returned to her math problems. I glanced at my phone again, the hateful words burning into my mind.

“It’s just some random troll,” I whispered to myself. “Don’t let it get to you, Nicky.”

But as I helped Jill with her fractions, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much worse.

Weeks passed, and the nasty comments kept coming. Every photo, every post, there he was. Bradley, spewing venom like it was his job.

I stared at my latest post, a picture of my husband Jack and me at our anniversary dinner at the beach resort. We looked happy. But there it was, the familiar sting:

“How could someone like him marry YOU? Talk about punching above your weight. 🤣🤣👀”

I slammed my phone on the table, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes.

The house was quiet. The kids were at school and Jack was at work. I was alone with my thoughts, and they were getting darker by the minute.

The doorbell rang, startling me. I wiped my eyes and opened the door to find my best friend, Ronnie.

“Surprise!” she grinned, holding up a bottle of wine. “I thought we could have a girls’ day!”

I forced a smile. “That sounds great, come on in.”

As we settled on the couch, Ronnie’s smile faded. “Okay, spill. What’s wrong?”

I hesitated, then showed her the comments. Her eyes widened as she scrolled through them.

“Nick, this is serious. Have you told Jack?”

I shook my head. “Nope.”

Ronnie grabbed my hand. “You have to tell him. This isn’t just trolling, it’s harassment.”

I nodded, fighting back tears. “You’re right. I’ll talk to him tonight.”

As Ronnie pulled me into a hug, I felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe Jack would understand. Maybe he’d help me figure this out.

But deep down, a nagging voice whispered that things were about to get much, much worse.

That night, I waited nervously for Jack to come home. The kids were in bed, and the house was eerily quiet. When I heard his key in the lock, my heart raced.

“Hey, babe,” he called, hanging up his coat. “Sorry I’m late, work was crazy.”

I took a deep breath. “Jack, we need to talk.”

He paused, sensing my tone. “Everything okay?”

I showed him the comments, my voice shaking as I explained the situation. To my surprise, he barely reacted.

“Babe, it’s just some loser. Don’t let it get to you. People online are messed up.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?”

He shrugged, heading to the fridge, laughing. “What do you want me to do? Track the guy down? It’s just words on a screen. Thousands of people online face similar criticism every single minute. It’s normal. Don’t make a big deal out of it!”

“Just words? These ‘words’ are tearing me apart, Jack. I can’t even post a picture without dreading what he’ll say next.”

Jack sighed, grabbing a beer. “Maybe you should take a break from social media then.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “So I should just let him win? Hide away because some jerk decides to target me?”

“Nicole, you’re blowing this out of proportion. It’s not that big a deal.”

I watched him walk away, feeling more alone than ever.

Months passed, and the situation only got worse. Bradley’s comments became more personal, more hurtful. And Jack? He remained frustratingly indifferent.

One afternoon, I was home alone, scrolling through Facebook against my better judgment. There it was, another gem from Bradley:

“Your husband deserves a medal for putting up with that disgusting face. How many times a day do you eat? Look at all that spare tire around your body! 🤣😆”

Tears stung my eyes. How could someone be so cruel? I couldn’t fathom why this Bradley was targeting me.

I was anxious, fidgeting with my phone and pacing around the house. I didn’t want to check my Facebook posts, nervous about seeing another one of Bradley’s nasty comments.

That’s when I spotted Jack’s laptop, abandoned and still on, lying on the table in our home-office. I wanted to distract myself by checking some emails.

As I opened a new tab, a recent search popped up in the browser.

My hands shook as I opened the browser history. And there it was, clear as day: “Bradley Facebook login.”

The world stopped. My vision blurred. This couldn’t be real.

I clicked the link, and there it was, Bradley’s profile, logged in on Jack’s computer.

My husband, the man who swore to love and protect me had been secretly destroying my self-esteem for months.

I stumbled back, collapsing into the chair. How could he do this? WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?

As the shock wore off, a new emotion took its place. Rage. Pure, unadulterated fury.

Jack thought he could play games? Fine. But he should know that two could play.

I heard the front door open. Jack was home. I quickly closed the laptop and composed myself. As I walked out to greet him, a plan was already forming in my mind.

“Hey, honey,” I said, plastering on a smile. “How about we have some friends over for dinner this weekend?”

Jack looked surprised and nodded. “Sure, sounds fun.”

Little did he know, the fun was just beginning.

The dinner party was in full swing that weekend. Our living room buzzed with conversation and laughter. I’d invited our closest friends and people who’d known us for years. Perfect witnesses for what was about to unfold.

I caught Jack’s eye across the room. He smiled, raising his glass. I smiled back. This was going to be epic.

As we all settled around the dining table, I cleared my throat. “Before we eat, I wanted to bring up something that’s been bothering me lately.”

The room quieted, all eyes on me. Jack’s brow furrowed slightly.

“Have you guys ever had to deal with an online troll?” I asked. “Someone who just won’t leave you alone, no matter what you post?”

Our friends chimed in with their own stories, laughing about annoying internet strangers. Jack sat silently, sipping his wine.

“Well,” I continued, “I’ve had this guy named Bradley commenting nasty stuff on all my photos for months. It’s been awful. The things this person has said, you wouldn’t believe.”

I pulled out my phone, reading some of the worst comments. Our friends gasped and murmured in sympathy. Jack’s knuckles whitened around his glass.

“Who does that? What a creep,” our friend Mike said, shaking his head.

I locked eyes with Jack. “And the craziest part? I found out Bradley isn’t some random troll. IT’S ACTUALLY JACK!”

The room fell silent. All eyes turned to Jack, whose face had drained of color.

“What?” he stammered. “Nicole, what are you talking about?”

I stood up. This was getting so good.

“Stop playing dumb, Jack. I checked your browser history. You’ve been using a fake Facebook account for months to insult me, put me down, and try to make me feel worthless.”

Our friends looked shocked. Ronnie reached out to touch my arm. “Nick, are you sure?”

I nodded, tears forming in my eyes. “I wish I weren’t. But it’s true.”

Jack stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “It was just a joke! I didn’t mean for it to hurt you. I thought it was… funny.”

The room erupted in disbelief.

“FUNNY? You’ve spent months destroying my self-esteem for a joke? If you think that’s amusing, Jack, then I guess we’re not in the same relationship. Because I don’t find it funny at all.”

The rest of the dinner was excruciating. Our friends couldn’t look at either of us, and Jack kept his eyes glued to his plate.

When the last guest was gone, I turned to Jack.

“How could you do this to me?” I demanded, tears finally spilling over. “I trusted you!”

Jack’s face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, Nicole. I… I didn’t think it would go this far. I just wanted to motivate you to… to get in shape. I was afraid to tell you directly that I wanted you to lose some weight.”

His words hit me like a slap. “So you thought humiliating me publicly was the answer? Making me feel worthless?”

“No! I mean, yes, but… God, I’m such an idiot. Please, let me explain—”

“Get out. Now. Pack your things and go. I need time to think about whether I can ever forgive you.”

“Nicole, please—”

“Get. Out.”

Jack left that night, and I spent the next few days in a daze.

I blocked Bradley on all social media and tried to process what had happened. How could the person I loved most in the world do something so cruel?

Jack called and texted constantly, begging for forgiveness. “It was a stupid mistake,” he pleaded. “I never meant to hurt you like this. Please, give me another chance.”

But his words rang hollow. The trust between us was shattered, and I wasn’t sure it could ever be repaired.

I don’t know what the future holds for us. The road ahead is long and uncertain. But one thing’s for sure: Jack learned the hard way that actions have consequences. And the pain and humiliation he caused can’t be erased with a simple apology.