His actions bothered me as I closed the door. Was he okay? Shaking off worry, I carried the warm package to the kitchen. The smell of garlic and tomato sauce was comforting, like an embrace.
However, opening the box made my heart race. Black Sharpie was used to write, “He is not who you think, on the box lid. Check your doorcam.”
I struggled with our door camera tablet, trembling. The pizza box message gave me shivers, and the time until I accessed the app felt like an eternity. As I swiped through the camera’s history, my breath caught.
Then I saw.
My Jake welcomed a woman at our door. No ordinary woman—she laughed as she offered him drink. Heart plummeted. I kept scrolling. A woman with a stack of movies appears again.
It seems Jake had company whenever I was away. His camera, ironically for our safety, recorded each visit to different women.
Sitting transfixed, the iPad fell to my lap. My thoughts raced. How could he? When did our relationship become a sham? My vision was obscured by tears, and each camera clip hurt. Was all my trust and love for him one-sided? Was I alone?Continue reading…