I waited until Daniel left for school, then I followed.
I parked far enough away to feel ridiculous, but I watched him walk out after his last class, briefcase in hand, moving like a man with somewhere important to be.
He drove across town.
My hands sweated as I followed, my brain offering ugly pictures I didn’t ask for
That was when I knew for certain: I wasn’t imagining things.
“Where do you go?” I asked. “Where are you when you’re not where you say you are?”
His eyes flicked toward the hallway, toward our kids’ bedrooms, then back to me.
“Not tonight,” he said softly. “Please, Mel.”
“Not tonight?” I stared at him. “I’m your wife. If you can’t talk to me… who are you talking to?”
“Please, Mel.”
There had to be someone else. A secret. A life I wasn’t invited to.
