“No, I would’ve fought—”
While Peter and the kids were gone, I went into the garage.
Most of my things were still in boxes from after my divorce from Sean. I hadn’t had the energy to go through them properly.
I didn’t even know what I was looking for at first. I just started opening boxes.
Clothes. Old toys. Small appliances.
Then I found the first thing that didn’t make sense.
A notice from Jonathan’s school. It was about a parent meeting I’d supposedly missed. But I’d never seen it before!
I kept going.
I just started opening boxes.
More papers.
- Bills in my name I didn’t recognize.
- Notes from teachers asking why I hadn’t responded.
- Printouts of emails I’d never received.
I sat back on the concrete floor, papers spread around me.
It wasn’t one big thing; it was dozens of small ones.
All of them added up to the same result.
I’d been left out on purpose.
It wasn’t one big thing.
I found Peter in the kitchen when I returned inside.
I dropped the papers on the table.
“Why didn’t you tell me all along?” I asked.
He looked down at them, then back at me.
“I tried, but you weren’t ready to hear it,” he replied. “Telling you too soon meant risking you pushing me away, too. Every time I hinted at something, you defended him or blamed yourself. If I had said it plainly back then, you would’ve shut me out. And then you’d be alone in it.”
That stopped me.
“You weren’t ready to hear it.”
Because I knew it wasn’t completely wrong.
Still, something didn’t sit right.
“You said you ‘knew’. How?”
He hesitated, then answered.
“Sean’s former assistant, Kelly. She confided in me.”
That caught me off guard.
“When?”
“Before everything fell apart. She was concerned about how things were being handled. I didn’t tell you then, but I’m telling you now because you’re finally listening.”
Something didn’t sit right.
That night, I couldn’t sleep.
I kept thinking about what Peter said, about the boxes and Kelly.
I needed to hear the truth myself.
So I made a decision, one I wasn’t proud of.
***
Peter was fast asleep when I snuck into his room. We didn’t share a bedroom. There was no confusion about what our marriage was. His phone was on the nightstand.
I hesitated.
I needed to hear the truth.
Then I picked it up.
My FIL, well, husband’s password was simple: his name.
I found the contact.
Kelly.
I saved the number, then put the phone back exactly where it had been.
My hands were shaking when I walked out.
The next morning, I opened my phone and read the response to my message that read, “Hi, this is Catherine. Sean’s ex. Could we talk?”
When I left the house, I told Peter I needed to run some errands.
He didn’t question it.
That almost made it worse.
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