Telha
It was an ordinary Monday morning, and I was deep in mom mode, getting the kids ready for school.
“I’ll be right there, kids!” I called, trying to keep my tone steady. “I just need to check something on Dad’s car.”
“Okay, Mom!” my daughter Natasha called back from the backseat.
The note read: “Sorry, I scratched your car last night. You shouldn’t park on the street, though! -Neighbor from 283. Here’s my number if you need anything!”
I felt a wave of confusion
We don’t live near any house numbered 283, and Thomas always parks in our garage. Why would a note like this be on his car?
“What was it, Mom?” Natasha asked as I got back into the driver’s seat.
“Just a note stuck on Dad’s car,” I replied casually, trying to sound unconcerned.
Thomas had just returned from a business trip that morning. His car was supposed to have been parked at the airport all weekend. An unsettling feeling crept over me. Something felt off.
“Have a great day, kids!” I said as I dropped them off at school.
“Don’t forget, we need to make sixty cookies for school tomorrow,” Natasha reminded me.
After leaving them at school, I went to the grocery store to pick up cookie ingredients, but my thoughts were elsewhere. What could Thomas be hiding? I threw items into the cart absent-mindedly and decided to call him.
“Hi, honey,” I greeted him when he answered.
“Hey, Sierra,” he replied. “I’m about to go into a meeting. Can we talk later?” And just like that, he hung up.
“What’s going on?” I murmured to myself, tossing a pack of gummy worms into the cart for my son, Jake.
Later, after picking up the kids, I prepared sandwiches while Natasha and I baked cookies for her class.
“Is everything okay, Mom?” Natasha asked as she stirred in the chocolate chips. “You’re not helping Jake with his homework.”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured her, though my mind was racing.
That night, after putting the kids to bed, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling
I decided to call the number from the sticky note. The phone rang twice before a friendly voice answered.
“Hello, is this house 283?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“Yes, it is! Who’s this?” the woman replied.
“I’m Sierra. I found your note on my husband’s car this morning. Could you tell me more about what happened?”
There was a brief pause before she spoke. “Oh, yes! I’m Jane. I accidentally scratched his car last night. I live at 283 Elm Street. Are you new to the area?”
My heart pounded. “No, we’re not new,” I said, forcing a smile she couldn’t see. “Thomas must have been visiting a friend. Don’t worry about the scratch. It’s not a problem.”
“Oh, are you sure?” she asked. “I’m happy to pay for the damage.”
“It’s fine,” I insisted. “But could you tell me where exactly he was parked?”
After a brief silence, Jane replied quietly, “He was parked right outside my house, across from the park. Next to a house where a woman lives. I’m really sorry.”
“Thank you, Jane,” I said, ending the call quickly.
Thomas had lied
He hadn’t been on a business trip, and his car wasn’t at the airport. He’d been at another woman’s house. But I needed proof before confronting him. I climbed into bed next to him, my heart pounding, and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I gave the kids their breakfast, silently weighing my next move. After dropping them off, I drove to Elm Street, following my GPS. I found the park and the nearby house. Gathering my courage, I knocked on the door. A woman in her thirties opened it, looking curious.
“Hi, can I help you?” she asked.
“I’m Sierra,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I believe my husband, Thomas, was with you this weekend?”
Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God, I didn’t know he was married. Please, come in. I’m Mary.”
My heart ached as I stepped inside. My wedding ring felt heavy on my finger. “He didn’t tell you about us? His family?”
Mary shook her head. “No, he said he was single. We met at a local market, and we’ve been seeing each other for a few months. But he always said work was busy, so we didn’t see each other often.”
I took a deep breath. “Mary, I need your help. I need proof of his cheating for my divorce lawyer. I can’t stay with a man like this, especially with my kids involved. Will you help me?”
Mary’s expression became resolute. “Of course,” she said. “We’ll catch him in the act.”
That evening, Mary texted Thomas, inviting him over for dinner. “I’ll tell him I cooked,” she said as I left her house. “He never misses a meal.”
I left the kids with my mother and drove back to Mary’s place, ready to confront Thomas
When he arrived, Mary greeted him at the door with a kiss. My stomach twisted, but I took the picture anyway. Then, I stepped out of my hiding spot.
“Thomas,” I said, my voice shaking with anger. “What is this?”
He went pale. “Sierra, what are you doing here?”
Mary crossed her arms and glared at him. “You lied to both of us, Thomas. How could you? And you have kids?”
He stammered, searching for an explanation. “It’s not what it looks like,” he finally said.
“Save it,” I snapped, holding up my camera. “I have all the proof I need. I’m filing for divorce.”
“Sierra, please,” he begged, trying to follow me as I walked to my car.
I ignored him, got in, and drove away, ready to return to my children.
In the weeks that followed, Mary and I formed an unexpected friendship
When the divorce papers were finally signed, I felt a huge sense of freedom and strength. My heart had been broken, and my home had been shattered. But as I healed, my children brought joy and laughter back into my life.
As for Thomas? He moved back in with his parents. He didn’t even try to make amends.
