before following her, keeping a few cars behind, just like I’d seen in detective shows.

I felt like an amateur investigator, but the stakes were much higher because this was my life, my wife.

We drove for about twenty minutes before she finally turned into a parking lot.

I slowed down as I passed the entrance and spotted the sign: “Radiance Modeling Agency.” My heart nearly stopped. What was she doing here? This was definitely not the IT company she’d mentioned.

I parked on the opposite side of the lot, where I could see the building’s entrance.

I watched as she exited the car and walked inside. My mind raced with confusion and suspicion. I had to know what was happening.

After a few minutes, I made my way to the building, trying to calm my nerves.

The glass doors opened, and I entered a buzzing lobby filled with activity.

Young women rushed about, clutching portfolios and chatting with what appeared to be photographers and stylists. I felt like I’d stepped into a different realm.

I spotted Mary near the reception desk, conversing with a tall woman in a sleek black dress.

They exchanged a few words, and then the woman handed Mary a garment bag. I stood there, dumbfounded, as Mary smiled, accepted the bag, and headed toward a set of double doors at the back.

Without thinking, I followed her from a distance, slipping into the room just as the doors closed.

Inside was an entirely different universe. Bright lights, mirrors everywhere, and racks of glamorous outfits filled the space.

A large platform at the center served as a runway, with a photographer setting up his equipment on the far side. Mary vanished behind a curtain, and for a moment, I stood frozen.

Should I confront her now?

Wait to see what she was up to? Before I could decide, she stepped out from behind the curtain, and I swear my jaw nearly dropped. She was transformed.

The simple clothes and bare face were gone. She wore a stunning red dress that hugged her figure perfectly, her hair cascading in loose waves around her shoulders.

She’d applied makeup: bright red lipstick, smoky eyes—the works. She looked… beautiful.

Like an entirely different person.

My heart raced as I watched her walk to the runway, radiating confidence. She took a deep breath and, as if a switch had flipped, began to strut down the runway, every step intentional, every movement elegant. The photographer’s camera clicked rapidly, capturing every moment.

I couldn’t believe my eyes.

My wife, the woman who always insisted on being natural and comfortable, was living a double life as a model. Why hadn’t she told me? The thought of her keeping this secret made my chest tighten with anger, confusion, and hurt.

I waited until the photoshoot ended, and she returned to her regular clothes before making my move.

She was heading to her car when I stepped out from behind a nearby column. “Mary,” I called out, attempting to keep my voice steady. She spun around, her eyes wide with shock.

“Jonathan? What are you doing here?” I took a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. “I could ask you the same thing.

You told me you got a job at an IT company, but I just saw you modeling.” She looked like she’d been caught in a lie, and for a moment, she was speechless.

Then she sighed deeply, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world had suddenly settled on them. “Jonathan… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she began. “I’ve always dreamed of being a model, but I feared you wouldn’t understand.

When I got the chance, I couldn’t resist. I wasn’t doing it for the money; it was just for the thrill, for the joy of it. But I also felt like I was betraying the values you love about me by doing this.

That’s why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me.”

Her words struck me hard. I could see the vulnerability in her eyes, the fear that I might judge her or love her less because of this.

Suddenly, everything clicked.

This wasn’t about her hiding something from me out of malice; it was about her hiding from herself, from the fear that she wasn’t living up to the person she thought she should be. “Mary,” I said softly, stepping closer. “You don’t need to feel ashamed of pursuing your dream.

I love