sanmo

When my husband accused me of going through his phone, I knew something was wrong. Not because I had touched it, but because he had never been this protective of his phone before. I had just walked through the front door with groceries when he appeared from the hallway. “Did you move my phone?” “No. Why?” “Are you sure you didn’t touch it?” I dropped the grocery bags on the counter and looked at him. “What’s going on?” He picked up his phone, checked something, and quickly slipped it into his pocket. “Nothing. Forget it.” I didn’t argue, but something about his reaction stayed with me. A few minutes later, his mother called. He declined the call and turned his phone face down. Then he went upstairs to shower. I was in the kitchen putting away the groceries when his phone lit up. A message appeared on the screen. “Please tell your wife before she finds out from someone else.” I froze. Before I could process it, another message came in. “She deserves to know what you’ve been paying me for the last eight months.” Eight months? My hands went cold. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know what I was about to discover, but I couldn’t stop staring at the screen. Then I heard the bathroom door open. My husband walked into the kitchen, saw me standing beside his phone, and immediately stopped. He didn’t ask what I had seen. He didn’t even try to deny anything. He just looked at me and said: “Please don’t call my mother.”