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

My body moved before my brain caught up. I got out of the car, marched across the street, and rang the doorbell. Because if I didn’t do it now, I never would.

The older woman opened the door again.

She didn’t look surprised to see me… just curious.

“Good afternoon,” she said gently. “Can I help you?”

My voice cracked before I could stop it.

“Yes. What’s my husband doing in YOUR house? Who else is here?”

She didn’t flinch.

Just studied me, and something in her expression changed. Her eyes softened.

“Dear… he’s not cheating on you,” she said calmly. “You should come inside and see for yourself.”

And just like that, the floor shifted.

Not in a dramatic way, but enough to make my breath hitch.

I stepped in.

The house smelled like lavender and soup. She led me down a hallway, past picture frames and doilies, into a sunlit living room.

And there, sitting in a chair by a hospital-style bed, was Dan, reading aloud from a book. And on the bed lay Erika.

But not the Erika I remembered.

This one was thin and pale.

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