I was sorting my second husband’s laundry when I felt something odd in his pants pocket.
When I shook them out, a small matchbox slipped out of his pocket and landed on the bed with a soft, papery tap.
“Huh.”
I didn’t recognize the name of the restaurant stamped on the front.
I felt something odd in his pants pocket.
I tried to dismiss it.
Didn’t Tyler mention a business lunch a few days ago? A coworker might’ve recommended this place, and Tyler probably wouldn’t have mentioned it to me if the food wasn’t all that good.
There were thousands of plausible explanations for the matchbox, but none sat right with me.
When I turned it over, my suspicions only deepened.
My suspicions deepened.
There was a phone number written on the back.
No name; just numbers, written firmly enough that the pen had left a faint indent in the cardboard.
My stomach did that slow, sinking thing.
Because I always check pockets. Always have and always will, because that’s how I caught my first husband cheating.
I always check pockets.
I wasn’t the suspicious type back then. I just liked order.
If you’ve ever had to deal with the mess caused by paper napkins and receipts left in pockets during laundry, you know it just makes sense to empty them first.
One night, years ago, I’d been standing in the laundry room reaching into my first husband’s work pants, when I found a parking receipt from a hotel.
I wasn’t the suspicious type back then.
Why would he be visiting a hotel in his home city? One in a part of town he had no reason to be in, on a night he’d told me he was working late.
I didn’t confront him right away, but in the end, that receipt unravelled an affair that had been going on for months.
I walked away and eventually found love again with Tyler.
I never thought I’d face that sort of betrayal again.
I never thought I’d face that sort of betrayal again.
That evening, I cooked dinner like I always did.
When Tyler came home, he kissed my cheek and dropped his keys in the bowl by the door.
“You wouldn’t believe the traffic on the highway! Construction everywhere, and suddenly nobody knows how to drive anymore.”
I nodded, asked about his day, and responded at the right moments. If he noticed anything different about me, he didn’t say so.
That evening, I cooked dinner like I always did.
Maybe that’s the thing about marriage. You get so good at performing normal that you forget what real feels like.
Later, when he fell asleep beside me, his breathing deep and even, I slipped out of bed and carried the matchbox into the kitchen.
I Googled the restaurant.
It wasn’t near his office, our home, or anywhere you’d just stumble into by accident.
I Googled the restaurant.
I guess I’d hoped the search results would reveal some key detail that would make it all seem innocent.
There was no denying it now — Tyler was going behind my back.
But was he having an affair? That was the burning question I needed answered.
I needed more evidence to confront Tyler with, and I knew exactly how to get it.
I needed more evidence.
The next morning, after Tyler left for work, I stood alone in the kitchen holding the matchbox.
I told myself I was older now, wiser, and that life didn’t repeat itself so neatly.
I tried to believe that.
Then I picked up my phone and dialed the number.
A woman answered on the second ring.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number.
“Hello?”
God, she sounded young.
I swallowed.
“Hi. I’m Lara, and I’m calling because…”
I hadn’t even figured out what I was going to say yet. Because what do you say? I found your number in my husband’s pocket, and I’m not an idiot?
The woman gasped. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to call.”
The words landed wrong. Like I’d stepped onto a stair that wasn’t there.
“I’m sorry?” I said.
“My name is Andrea, and I think it’s time you and I talked.”
That’s when the thought I’d been holding back since I first found the matchbox burst out.
“Are you sleeping with my husband?”
“It’s time you and I talked.”
“No! God, no. That’s not what this is.”
“Because I found your number in his pocket,” I snapped. “And I’ve done this before. I know exactly what it looks like.”
“This is exactly why we need to talk, Lara.” Andrea sighed. “I told Tyler we wouldn’t be able to hide this from you forever.”
That did it.
“I told Tyler we wouldn’t be able to hide this from you forever.”
“Hide what?” I slammed my hand down on the kitchen counter.
“You don’t get to say things like that and then act innocent.”
“I’m sorry, it’s just… I can’t explain this over the phone.”
“Oh, that’s convenient!”
“I know how it sounds, but this isn’t an affair. I swear to you. And I don’t want to do more damage by saying the wrong thing.”
“I can’t explain this over the phone.”
Silence stretched between us.
“Can you meet me? Tonight. At the restaurant.”
“The one on the matchbox?”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to just show up?” I asked.
“You want answers, don’t you?”
“Can you meet me?”
Before I could respond, she said, “I have to go. Please come.”
And then the line went dead.
I stood in my kitchen for a long time, staring at the matchbox.
That evening, I rehearsed a dozen different speeches in my head as I drove to the restaurant. None of them sounded right.
What do you say to the woman who might be sleeping with your husband but claims she isn’t?
I drove to the restaurant.
The restaurant was dim and upscale, the kind of place you went for anniversaries.
When I gave my name to the hostess, she smiled politely.
“We’ve been expecting you.”
That didn’t help.
She led me past the main dining room and into a small private space at the back.
She led me into a small private space at the back.
I sat. I waited.
After a few minutes, the door opened.
A woman in her early 20s entered. She slid into the chair across from me and folded her hands on the table.
“Thank you for coming,” she said.
“I’m not here for pleasantries. Start talking.”
A woman in her early 20s entered.
She nodded. “Tyler is my biological father.”
I blinked. “What?”
“My mother dated him in high school. They broke up when he left for college. She didn’t find out she was pregnant until after. She gave me up for adoption.”
I came ready for betrayal and lies. For another woman who’d stolen pieces of my husband in hotel rooms and parking lots.
Not this.
I came ready for betrayal and lies.
“I only found him a few weeks ago,” Andrea continued. “I tracked him down through old records. DNA sites. That kind of thing. When I reached out, he was shocked.”
“So, your number on the matchbox…”
“Was for you, actually.” She smiled faintly. “Tyler didn’t want to tell you about me, but he told me all about how careful and observant you are. I gave him the matchbox with my number, hoping that you’d find it.”
“I gave him the matchbox with my number, hoping that you’d find it.”
“Observant,” I repeated. The word felt bitter. “Is that what we’re calling it?”
Andrea looked at me with something close to sympathy.
“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you thought you were walking into.”
Before I could respond, the door flew open.
“Lara, it’s not what you think!”
Before I could respond, the door flew open.
Tyler stood there, out of breath, eyes darting between us.
“Please. I can explain.”
“Your daughter already did,” I said.
He froze.
“All I want to know,” I continued, “is why you hid this from me.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “I was afraid.”
“All I want to know is why you hid this from me.”
“Of what?” I asked.
“Of losing you.” His voice cracked. “Of blowing up our life. I thought if I waited, if I handled it carefully, if I figured out what it all meant first, then maybe I could tell you the right way. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much.”
Andrea stood. “I should give you two some space to talk…”
“No,” I said. “Stay.”
“Stay.”
She hesitated, then sat back down.
I looked at Tyler, the man I’d built a life with. The man who’d kept a secret the size of a daughter and thought he was protecting me.
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle, Tyler. You don’t get to protect yourself by making me feel foolish.”
He nodded, eyes wet. “You’re right.”
“You’re right.”
“We’re going to need time and honesty to work through this. All of it. Or this ends here.”
Tyler nodded again. “Whatever you need.”
I turned to Andrea. She was watching me carefully, like she wasn’t sure if I was about to shatter or stand up and leave.
“And you deserve answers too,” I said.
“And you deserve answers too.”
She smiled faintly. “Thank you.”
Tyler pulled out a chair and joined us at the table.
“I should have told you about Andrea from the beginning. I should have trusted you, Lara. I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t say it was okay. Because it wasn’t, not yet. Maybe not for a while.
But I nodded.
Tyler pulled out a chair and joined us at the table.
We talked for another hour about what happened next. Andrea wanted to reconnect with Tyler. She wanted to know where she came from.
When we finally stood to leave, Andrea hesitated at the door.
“Can I ask you something?” she said.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Do you think you’ll be okay? With all this?”
“Do you think you’ll be okay? With all this?”
I considered the question carefully.
My husband had lied to me because he didn’t trust me to accept the truth. That stung. And it occurred to me then that maybe my first husband’s betrayal had hardened me in ways that were hurting Tyler and me.
We both needed to do better.
“I don’t know yet,” I said. “But I’ll figure it out.”
We both needed to do better.
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