My spouse and I had a good marriage until I saw an odd pattern in our spending: kindergarten, pediatricians, and baby supplies—none of which made sense because we were childless. As I followed her, feeling both confused and worried, I discovered that she was living two lives.
I was a 33-year-old lawyer, and my expertise was infidelity and negotiating the greatest settlement for the harmed party. However, my talent for it transformed my life.
I remember traveling through the busy metropolis one evening as the sun was setting. Working in the field had taught me the importance of trust in marriage, which was a concept I held dear, especially now that I was recently married to Natalie, the woman I adored.
I scowled when I noticed Natalie’s car was missing as I pulled into my driveway that evening. Being on time was one of her best qualities, so by now she was typically home. However, things had changed recently because she was now getting home much later than I was.
My anxiety was heightened by the silent house. Because of what I do for a living, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy in this silence. “Could Natalie be cheating on me?” was an especially unpleasant yet nagging notion that kept coming to mind.
Thankfully, hours later, Natalie came back, appearing worn out, but I couldn’t stop talking. “Whatwhere have you been lately? You’ve frequently been late. Do you have any further information for me to know? Ultimately, I inquired whether she was being disloyal.
She looked shocked at the situation. “I adore you, Hank. You can never trust me with lies. She sighed and reassured me, “I’ve just been busy grading tests at school. It made sense. I agreed and tried to forget about it because Natalie was a committed teacher.
But whatever tranquility we might have had throughout dinner and our day was broken by a message on Natalie’s phone. “Honey, are you going to be there tomorrow?” The intimacy struck me as I took a quick look at it.
She erased the message fast and attempted to continue discussing her day.
Without thinking twice, I cut her off. What did that consist of? With a tone full with mistrust, I questioned.
What are you trying to say? It seemed as though she was pretending to be confused.
“The message.” I read what it said, scowling as I pressed.
Natalie rubbed her forehead and moaned. She attempted to comfort me, “Hank, it’s not what you think,” and demonstrated the incorrect number on her phone.
But my appetite disappeared and cynicism distorted my judgment.
