Every time I walked into the room, Emma would quickly put her phone aside. Sometimes it seemed careless, but more often, it looked like I had caught her doing something she wanted to hide.
I couldn’t help but notice how fast she closed apps or placed her phone face down. This started happening too frequently to be a coincidence. At first, I tried to ignore it, but over time, my suspicions began to grow.
I started noticing strange details. For example, Emma would spend longer than usual in the bathroom, and in the absence of running water, I could hear the faint sound of typing. Or, she would suddenly disappear into another room, explaining that she needed to “work” or “respond to a friend.”
These justifications didn’t sound convincing, and it became harder and harder to suppress my emotions as these situations became more frequent. My mind was torn by conflict.
One thought kept circling in my head: what if she’s texting some man? Could she have found someone else? But I’ve always been so caring, so attentive.
After hours of battling with myself, I made a decision. I had to know the truth. If she was really hiding something, I needed to find out now. Carefully, I got out of bed and reached for her phone. The screen lit up softly, revealing a familiar wallpaper. The phone was locked, but I knew her password.
My hand trembled as I entered the combination. My heart was beating so loudly that it felt like the sound filled the room’s silence. Slowly, I opened the messaging app, bracing myself to see something terrible.
But instead of romantic messages or mysterious conversations, I saw a chat with someone whose name meant nothing to me. The messages were strange: they discussed our relationship, Emma’s feelings, her worries.
With each line I read, my fear was gradually replaced by astonishment. The messages spoke about our recent arguments, her attempts to connect with me, her fears and doubts. She wrote about how much she wanted everything to improve. The person on the other side of the chat was offering advice, supporting her. After running some checks through special applications, I realized that Emma was corresponding with a therapist.
I closed the phone and put it back in its place. Inside me, a storm of emotions raged. On one hand, I felt relieved: there was no betrayal, only her search for help and support.
On the other hand, I felt terrible for invading her privacy. I had never done anything like this before. Could this be considered a betrayal? After all, I had read her personal thoughts, her deepest secrets. Or was this simply the result of my anxiety about us?
Emma stirred for a moment, looked at me with sleepy eyes, and asked if everything was okay. I nodded and tried to smile.
She turned over and fell asleep again, while I sat in the dark, realizing how dishonorably I had acted. I had broken her trust, even if she didn’t know it. But now, knowing the truth, I felt lighter.
I understood that she wasn’t hiding her phone because of something bad. She was just trying to deal with our problems and find a way to make us happier.
The next day, I was more attentive to my wife: I tried to be gentler, more caring, and I no longer asked who she was in contact with. I wanted to show her that I valued her as a wife and a friend. But in my heart, the unpleasant feeling from what I had done remained.
I decided that I would never do such a thing again. It’s better to suffer in ignorance than to ruin the trust of someone you love.
