
Daniel and I used to have our nights—kids asleep, popcorn ready, curled under a blanket rewatching a movie like it was brand new.
Now? I sit alone, rubbing hand cream, while Daniel stays downstairs… silent. Until a phone buzzed.
Curious, I crept down. The guest bathroom light was on. The phone lit up: “Jessie calling”—complete with a smiling photo. Jason’s new teacher.
I sat on the stairs, numb. Was my husband really cheating—with our son’s teacher?
Instead of confronting him, I confided in my best friend Lana. She had a plan: disguise myself as a school janitor to spy. I laughed—then agreed.
Wig on, name tag reading Kacey, mop in hand—I was undercover. At school, I scrubbed floors and dodged stares.
Then I saw Daniel walking into Jessie’s classroom. Her voice floated out: “Same as always?” My heart sank.
And then—Jason walked in. “Mom?!” he said, as my wig fell off. Busted.
Back home, I packed Daniel’s things in a fury. But just as I dragged the suitcase out, a little girl appeared.
“I’m Sofia,” she smiled. “I came with my dad.”
Daniel stepped forward. “She’s my daughter. From before us. Jessie never told me—until now.”
I was shocked. Angry. But more than anything… I understood. Secrets hurt more than the truth.
“Jason deserves to know his sister,” I said.
Daniel nodded. “I’ll carry the suitcase.”
“For once,” I replied, “do something yourself.”
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