He’s seeing someone else.
I didn’t sleep that night.
Marcus lay beside me, breathing softly, completely unaware that I was staring at the ceiling with tears silently sliding into my hair.
Sixteen years of memories played through my mind like an old film.
Our wedding.
The night our first child was born.
Moving into our first home.
Quiet evenings on the couch after the kids were asleep.
Had all of it been real?
Or had I simply been too comfortable to notice something changing?
By morning, my eyes were swollen. Still, I forced myself to act normally.
I made breakfast.
Packed school lunches.
Helped the kids find their backpacks.
Marcus kissed my cheek before leaving for work.
“See you tonight,” he said.
I kissed him back and pretended everything was fine.
The moment the front door closed behind him, I sank onto the couch.
I needed to know the truth.
So the following Friday, I made a decision I never imagined I would make.
I called in sick to work.
After the kids left for school, I drove to Marcus’s office and parked across the street.
My heart pounded the entire time.
I felt ridiculous sitting there, like some amateur detective in a bad movie.
But the thought of not knowing was worse.
Hours passed slowly.
Then, three hours before Marcus’s shift was supposed to end, he walked out of the building.
He didn’t carry his briefcase.
He didn’t stop anywhere.
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