I thought my wife was having an affair. It turned out to be something far worse.
The phone was on silent, yet I still heard it. The buzz on the kitchen bench sounded like a gunshot. I glanced an unknown number. Peter had just got home from a business trip and was standing under the shower.
I dont know what possessed me, but I answered. The line was silent at first, then a womans voice broke through:
Please tell him Tom was very brave at the dentist today, and that were expecting him on Sunday.
I froze.
Excuse me, who is this? I asked.
Oh is this not his number? she hesitated. Sorry wrong number.
She hung up. I stood in the kitchen like a statue. Tom. Brave at the dentist. Expecting him on Sunday. I didnt even know who Tom was, but I was certain it wasnt a mistake.
When Peter stepped out of the shower, I looked at him as if he were a stranger. He smiled and asked if there was anything to eat. I opened the fridge and thought, Thats just the beginning.
The next morning I could barely get out of bed. It felt as though someone had swapped my world for a version where nothing fit. Petersame voice, same scent, the same morning coffee routineyet every fibre of me screamed, He isnt the man you married.
I tried to rationalise it. Maybe it really was a mixup? Perhaps a colleague called by accident? But the tone, the certainty in that womans voice, the word waiting, made it feel like it wasnt the first time.
I started watching Peter. On the surface everything seemed normal, but not quite. He left the car a few metres further from the driveway than usual. His trips abroad became more frequent. And those short messages on WhatsApp were always workrelated, always curt, yet the style was different, as if someone else were typing them, or as if they were meant for someone who didnt know him as well as I did.
Finally I decided I had to find out. I hated playing detective, but I hated being naïve even more.
I began with the car. After one of his business trips I checked the boot. It was empty except for a single receipt a hotel in York. Not the town he claimed he was heading to. I noted the date. That day he said hed be home late because of traffic.
My heart hammered, but I didnt give up. The next time he prepared to leave, I wrote down the hotels registration number and name from the receipt. Two days later I was there.
I wasnt sure what I was expecting. Maybe just to confirm he wasnt there? To prove I was losing my mind? When I parked opposite the building and saw Peter walk out, handinhand with a small boy, I went stiff. The child looked about four, his cap cocked to one side, a belllike laugh, and his features his. A miniature version of Peter.
A woman then emerged, younger than me, perhaps in her thirties. She adjusted the boys jacket, and Peter kissed her on the forehead as if it were an everyday scene his family.
I backed away to the car, legs barely feeling, hands trembling. My phone rang probably my daughter waiting for me to finish the shopping. I let it go to voicemail. I stared at that tableau through the windshield, a glimpse into a world that wasnt mine. Then it hit me: this wasnt a fling, it wasnt an affair. It was something far worse. Hed built a second family, a second life, and I was nothing more than an extra, a background character.
I cant say how long I sat in that car. Eventually I started the engine and drove awaynot home, but somewhere to get fresh air, to clear the fog of my own delusions.
I didnt return until evening. The house was quiet, the children asleep. Peter sat in the living room in front of the TV as if nothing had happened. He looked up, raised an eyebrow.
Taking ages with those errands. Everything alright? he asked in that calm tone that used to make my friends jealous.
I said nothing, just stared at him, wondering how Id missed it all for so long, how hard hed worked to live on two fronts, how often hed slipped back into our home from the other house, and whether he ever felt a pang of conscience.
I sat opposite him and said evenly,
I was in York today.
He froze. The smile vanished.
Why would you be there? he asked, voice unsure.
I saw you you, her and the boy.
Silence stretched. After a long moment he finally sighed.
I never meant to hurt you. It just happened.
The child happened? The family happened? I interrupted.
He clenched his fists, offering no explanations. Perhaps he understood there was no point in trying, or perhaps he was simply exhausted by his lies.
I never wanted to abandon anyone not you, not them. I thought I could manage
Manage is what you call running two lives side by side? Building Lego towers in two different homes? Lying to both in the name of convenience?
I stood up.
I dont know what comes next, but I know one thing: Im not staying in this circus any longer.
I didnt scream. I didnt cry. I felt empty, yet something new stirred insidea strength, a fury, and above all a conviction that I was ready to change things.
Two weeks later I told him he had to move out. He didnt sob, didnt protest; he simply packed his things in silence and left.
And for the first time in ages I could truly breathe. No more lies, no constant tension. I was alone, but free.
The only thing that still gnaws at me is how it happened at all. How could I have been drawn into such a charade? How could I have missed that I was living in someone elses play, not in my own home? To this day I cant fathom how I ended up there.
