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But my heart knew better.
I stared at my phone for what felt like hours, my mind racing through possibilities. Then something reckless and desperate took over, and I decided to test my worst fears. I typed back, pretending to be Daniel:
You know how I love it when you call me ‘that’ name.”
The response came back within seconds, confirming my nightmare. Another photo appeared showing her legs stretched across my sheets, accompanied by the message: “Anything for you, my lion.”
Those words made my knees buckle. “Lion” was our private nickname.
It was our most intimate secret that nobody else in the world knew about.
I dropped the phone like it was on fire. Fifteen years of trust and belief in us disintegrated in two text messages. But I didn’t scream or throw things.
Instead, something cold and sharp settled deep in my bones.
“Two can play this game,” I whispered.
I flew home two days later with my mask of normalcy perfectly in place, determined not to let anyone see the storm raging inside me. The kids ran to me with their faces lighting up with pure joy, their innocent excitement breaking my heart.
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