I realised my ex-husband was cheating on me because he suddenly started sweeping the street.
It sounds ridiculous, but that’s honestly how it happened. He was an electrician who worked from home. His workshop was set up in the garage, and his days were filled with wires, tools, and clients coming round. Housework was never his thingnot for any particular reason, just because he didnt like it. If he had a moment to himself, hed rather relaxwatch football on the telly, have a pint with the lads, or fire up the barbecue. He was the laid-back type. Not one for parties, never aggressive, and certainly not the sort to stir suspicion easily.
Our street was a typical lane in the suburbs of Manchesterbroad, lined with old oaks, constantly covered in leaves, mud, and dust. Someone had to sweep up every day, almost without fail. I usually did it early in the morning while making tea and toast. One day, though, a new neighbour moved in next door. Nothing unusual about itthe house was often rented out, so people came and went all the time.
A few months after she settled in, he started saying things like,
Dont worry, Ill sweep up today.
At first, I thought it was lovely. I used the time to do other choresclearing up breakfast things, cleaning the loo, tidying the house. I didnt keep an eye on him. Why would I?
But then it became a daily thing.
And it was always at exactly the same time: seven in the morning. Never earlier, never later. I noticed because he wasnt the sort of man who did anything on a schedule apart from work. One day, out of simple curiosity, I looked out of the window.
I saw him.
Standing there, broom in hand, not sweeping at all. He was chatting, smiling. With the neighbour across the fence. A coincidence, I told myself. But the next day, it happened again. And the next. Every time he went out, so did she, just as if theyd arranged it.
I started watching more closely. And it wasnt only the mornings. One Saturday, he said he was popping out for a pint with friends. Nothing unusual. But as he walked out, I had this odd feeling. I peered through the curtain to see the neighbour leave at the same moment. She called out,
Oh, hello, neighbour! Have a nice evening.
He replied easily, and she added,
What a coincidence, Im heading out too.
And off they went together.
The following weekend, he said he was off for a kickaboutsomething he almost never did. He left, and five minutes later, she stepped out after him, on the phone, heading the same way.
I had no proof. No messages. No photos. Nothing at alljust patterns. Perfect timings. Coincidences that were, by then, anything but.
One day I confronted him. I didnt ask. I simply said,
I know youre seeing the neighbour.
He stared at me, genuinely surprised at first. He tried to deny it, but I told him,
Ive seen you, every day. Dont lie to me.
He went silent, dropped his gaze, and then said,
Yes. I am. Im in love with her.
I shouted at him to get out of the house. We didnt have children, nothing really to discuss. The most ironic thing? He moved straight in next door, with her.
They didnt last longmaybe two months. Then they both moved out. Nobody ever found out what actually happened. They left Manchester and I never heard from them again. Everyone on the street gossiped, my family too, but I didnt want to know anything more.
