Really?”
“Uh-huh,” my daughter nodded, swinging her legs. “The lady there is so nice, Mommy. She gives me cookies and cupcakes.
My heart thudded once, heavy and slow.
“What lady, sweetheart? What’s her name?”
“Daddy said it’s a secret,” Mia said, leaning forward and whispering. “Just for…
us.“
“I bet he did, huh,” I said.
I tucked her hair behind her ear and kissed her temple. My daughter nodded and smiled again.
And deep down inside me, something shifted, and it just wouldn’t shift back.
After lunch, while Mia sat doodling at the dining table, I gently slid a blank sheet of paper in front of her.
Can you draw Mommy a picture of that pretty house you told me about this morning?”
She looked up from her pancakes-and-dinosaur sketch and smiled.
“You want to see the house?” she asked.
“I do. I want to know what it looks like when you go with Daddy. And because I’m always working, this is the only way.”
She nodded eagerly and reached for her crayons.
“Okay, Mommy!
It has a red roof, and the lady has lots of pink flowers. She showed me the garden last time.”
Then she drew the house itself, with square windows and a door outlined in pink.
On one side, she added a smiling stick figure with long brown hair. On the other, a taller figure labeled “Daddy.”
“She calls me her little sunshine,” Mia added as she passed me the picture. “She lets me play with her dolls, even the glass ones in the cabinet.”
My fingers tightened around the paper.
I couldn’t believe that my child was being exposed to another woman… and I couldn’t believe that my husband was responsible for it.
“She sounds really nice, honey,” I said softly.
“She is, Mommy. She told Daddy I can come over anytime, but only if I keep it a secret.”
That last part landed hard.
I smiled as best I could, kissed her cheek, and stood to wash the dishes.
Fifteen minutes later, Mia was curled up on the couch under her favorite blanket, her thumb in her mouth, already fast asleep. I stood over her, holding the drawing in my hands.
It wasn’t a child’s fantasy. It was precise.
And too real.
It took me a moment to realize that I recognized the shape of the street. And the slope of the hill. Even the flowers felt familiar…
And suddenly, I realized that I hadn’t imagined it.
This wasn’t about Mia’s imagination.
This was about David’s secrets.
That evening, when David came home, I watched him more closely than usual.
He walked in carrying a bag of groceries and placed it on the kitchen counter like everything was normal. He kissed my cheek, but too quickly, like he was in a rush to check it off a list. Then he opened the fridge and started rearranging things, moving a jar of pickles we hadn’t touched in months like it needed to be somewhere else.
“How was the interview?” I asked, handing him a glass of juice.
“Good,” he said, taking a sip.
“I got some good leads and feedback, Han. I might have to go back in a couple of days.”
There it was again — that too-casual tone. Like someone reciting a line they had already rehearsed.
“Do you think that it’s a good fit?
If you got offered a job, I mean,” I asked, trying to keep the conversation going.
“I’m not sure, honey,” he said, shrugging and looking at the floor. “It’s hard to tell. They’re still deciding.
And nothing’s guaranteed.”
I smiled, leaned in, and kissed my husband’s temple, the same way I had so many nights before. But inside, I could feel the shift — something unspoken, something hiding just beneath the rhythm of our home.
Two days later, when he said he had to step out again for another “meeting,” I stood at the window and watched him pull out of the driveway. As soon as his car disappeared, I grabbed my keys.
I followed at a distance, my heart pounding against my ribs.
He didn’t head toward downtown like he said. Instead, he turned into a part of town I hadn’t been through in years — quiet, old, lined with trees that shaded the roads in all directions.
Then he slowed and pulled into a driveway.
I recognized it instantly: Mia’s drawing had it all planned out. From the red roof to the pink flowers…
I parked a block away and watched from behind the windshield, my pulse roaring in my ears.
Before he could knock, the front door opened.
A woman stepped out.
She looked to be around our age, maybe a few years older. She had soft brown hair curled over her shoulders. She smiled at him, wide, familiar, and warm, and then she hugged him.
It wasn’t a casual hug.
It was long, close, and too comfortable. It was the kind of hug that rewrites the rules.
They stood there for several seconds, arms around each other, before walking inside.
I stayed in the car, too stunned to move. My fingers clenched around the steering wheel like it was the only thing holding me upright.Continue reading…
