My Husband Started Bringing Home Flowers Every Friday – One Day I Found a Note in the Bouquet and Followed Him After Work

One frame at a time: birthdays, late-night baby feedings, burnt toast, and Sunday grocery runs… all the quiet pieces that built a life haunted me from all sides.

Was it all fake? Was I a fool?

Had I just been looking in the wrong direction all this time while something else bloomed behind my back?

I kept asking myself, Would I rather know the truth… or keep pretending?

By morning, my eyes were swollen, and my chest ached like I’d been holding my breath all night. I moved on autopilot. Made eggs.

Burnt the toast. Smiled at the kids like my world wasn’t unraveling at the seams. I packed Emma’s lunch and stared blankly at the fridge, not even sure what I’d just put in her bag.

When Dan kissed my cheek before heading to work, I didn’t flinch.

I kissed him back. Because I needed him to believe I was okay.

As soon as the front door shut, I sank onto the couch like my bones had given up holding me together. The silence in the house suddenly felt too loud.

My hands rested on my lap, but my mind made circles around one thing: Who was he seeing? Was it someone new? Or someone I already knew and had let too close?

I kept replaying that note in my head: “See you next Friday.”

What kind of person leaves that for a married man?

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