Chapter 3 - The Woman Who Knew My Husband
I dropped my phone.
The sound of it hitting the wooden floor echoed through the bedroom.
For several seconds, I couldn't breathe.
The woman on the phone was still speaking.
“Emily?”
Her voice came through the speaker.
“Emily, are you there?”
But I wasn't listening anymore.
Because the person standing in my doorway wasn't a stranger.
It was Mark.
My husband.
The man who had left me bleeding on the bedroom floor less than twenty-four hours earlier.
He stood there wearing a gray jacket and jeans, his expression unreadable.
Not guilty.
Not ashamed.
Just tired.
Like I was the inconvenience.
Like he was the one who had been hurt.
I slowly picked up my phone.
The woman on the other end was still waiting.
“Emily?”
I pressed the call button off.
I didn't know who she was.
I didn't know why she knew about Mark.
But suddenly, Mark being in front of me felt more dangerous than the unknown voice.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
My voice was colder than I expected.
Mark looked around the bedroom.
His eyes stopped on the hospital bag.
Then the crib visible through the nursery door.
For a moment, something crossed his face.
Regret.
Or maybe guilt.
But it disappeared quickly.
“I came to talk.”
I almost laughed.
“Talk?”
He stepped inside.
I immediately moved backward.
The movement was small.
But he noticed.
His jaw tightened.
“You think I'm going to hurt you?”
I stared at him.
“I think you already did.”
Silence.
The words landed.
For once, he had no response.
Mark looked away.
“Emily, things got out of control.”
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“Things got out of control?”
“You weren't supposed to find out like that.”
There it was again.
Not an apology.
Not remorse.
Just regret that his secret had been exposed.
I crossed my arms over my stomach.
“You brought another woman into our bedroom.”
“I know.”
“You told me you were going to marry her.”
“I know.”
“You pushed me.”
His face changed.
Only slightly.
But I saw it.
The discomfort.
The fear.
“That's not what happened.”
I stared at him.
“You're going to deny it?”
“I was angry.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
He walked closer.
I immediately raised my hand.
“Stop.”
He froze.
And for the first time since I had known him, Mark looked like he understood that something between us had changed forever.
The woman I was before yesterday would have cried.
She would have begged him to explain.
She would have searched for some reason to save our marriage.
But that woman was gone.
The moment he chose another woman while our daughter was almost here, something inside me broke.
And something else replaced it.
“What do you want, Mark?”
He looked down.
“I need you to understand something.”
“No.”
My answer was immediate.
“I don't need to understand anything.”
“Emily—”
“You made your choice.”
He took a breath.
“I didn't plan for this to happen.”
I looked at him.
“Really?”
His silence answered.
Because I remembered everything.
The candles.
The wine glasses.
The perfume.
The woman sitting on our bed.
It wasn't an accident.
It wasn't one bad decision.
It was a life he had been building behind my back.
“How long?” I asked.
Mark looked confused.
“What?”
“How long has she been there?”
He didn't answer.
That was enough.
I nodded slowly.
“How long, Mark?”
“A few months.”
The room became quiet.
A few months.
I placed my hand over my belly.
A few months ago, Lily was just beginning to grow.
A few months ago, Mark was still telling me he loved me.
A few months ago, I was buying baby clothes while he was falling in love with someone else.
“Who is she?”
Mark looked away.
“Rebecca.”
I repeated the name silently.
Rebecca.
A stranger who knew my bedroom.
A stranger who wore my husband's shirt.
A stranger who believed my marriage was already over.
“Does she know about Lily?”
His expression changed.
“Yes.”
“And she still came here?”
He didn't answer.
That was answer enough.
I walked toward the dresser.
The envelope was still there.
The photograph was inside.
I picked it up.
Mark noticed.
His entire expression changed.
“Where did you get that?”
The reaction was immediate.
Too immediate.
I looked at him.
“You know about this?”
He stepped forward.
“Emily, give me that.”
“No.”
My fingers tightened around the photo.
“Who sent this?”
“It's nothing.”
“Don't lie to me.”
His face became harder.
“You don't understand.”
I almost smiled.
“You're right.”
I looked at him.
“I don't understand how the man who promised to protect me could do this.”
He looked angry now.
But underneath the anger was fear.
Real fear.
That scared me more.
“What else don't I know?”
Mark didn't answer.
And that was when I realized something.
The affair wasn't the whole story.
Rebecca wasn't the only secret.
My phone suddenly rang again.
Same unknown number.
Mark looked at the screen.
And his face went pale.
That was the moment I knew.
He wasn't afraid of me.
He was afraid of whoever was calling.
I answered before he could stop me.
“Hello?”
The woman's voice returned.
This time, she sounded desperate.
“Emily, you need to listen carefully.”
I looked at Mark.
He was standing completely still.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“My name is Claire.”
Mark's face changed.
Not slightly.
Completely.
Like someone had just said a name he never wanted to hear again.
Claire continued.
“I worked with Mark for three years.”
I frowned.
“Worked with him?”
“Yes.”
She paused.
“And I know exactly what he did before he met Rebecca.”
Mark moved toward me.
“Hang up.”
I stepped away.
“No.”
His voice became sharper.
“Emily, don't listen to her.”
Claire heard him.
“Is Mark there?”
I didn't answer.
She already knew.
“Emily, he doesn't want you hearing the truth.”
My heart started racing.
“What truth?”
Mark looked desperate now.
“She's lying.”
Claire's voice dropped.
“The woman you found in your bedroom wasn't the first person he betrayed you with.”
I froze.
My eyes moved to Mark.
He didn't deny it.
That silence was louder than anything.
“Emily,” Claire whispered.
“There is something in your house that proves everything.”
I looked around the bedroom.
“What?”
“Go to the nursery.”
My body went cold.
The nursery.
The room I had painted.
The room where Lily would sleep.
The room where I had placed every dream I had for my daughter.
Mark stepped forward.
“No.”
That one word told me everything.
I walked toward the nursery door.
“Emily.”
His voice was different now.
Not angry.
Afraid.
I opened the door slowly.
Inside, everything looked normal.
The crib.
The blankets.
The stuffed animals.
Then I noticed something.
The bottom drawer of the changing table was slightly open.
I had never left it that way.
I walked closer.
My hands were shaking.
I pulled the drawer open.
Inside was a folder.
A folder with my name written across it.
I looked back at Mark.
His face had gone completely white.
Because he knew exactly what was inside.
May you like
I reached for the folder.
And when I opened the first page, I saw a document dated six months before my daughter was born… with my signature at the bottom.
