I thought marriage would bring us closer, but instead, we drifted apart.
Silence filled our mornings, distance grew between us.
Then, one day, a forgotten phone and a single message shattered my world: “Hi, Daddy.” A name I didn’t recognize.
A word that changed everything. I had to know the truth—no matter the cost.
I had married Danny not long ago, but soon after, everything changed.
It wasn’t something I could explain easily—just a slow, steady shift in the way we were with each other. We talked about everything.
Now, we barely spoke.
Before the wedding, we had never lived together. Spending nights at each other’s places had felt like an adventure, something temporary and exciting.
But living together—really living together—was different. It meant seeing each other at our worst, dealing with messy schedules, and facing problems we never had to before.
I didn’t know how to fix things.
Some days, I wanted to try, to reach out, to ask Danny if he felt it too. But I never did.
I was afraid of the answer. I was constantly irritated, snapping over little things, and I hated it.
I hated how I was becoming someone I didn’t even recognize.
That morning was like all the others. No good morning kiss. No casual conversation.
We each grabbed something quick for breakfast and got ready in silence.
Danny was out the door first, barely looking at me as he left.
I sighed, reaching for my purse when I saw it—his phone sitting on the kitchen counter.
I picked it up, turning it in my hands. I would just drop it off on my way to work. No big deal.
But as I lifted it, the screen lit up with a message.
Hi, Daddy.
The message was from someone named Martha.
My stomach dropped. My hands trembled. I stared at the words, my breath catching in my throat.
Who was Martha?
And why was she calling my husband Daddy? I was afraid he wouldn’t tell me the truth.
I erased the message from the screen. If Danny saw it, he would know I had read it.
If he was hiding something, I wanted to catch him off guard.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grabbed my keys and left the house. Driving to his office, my heart pounded so hard it hurt.
Danny had always stayed late at work—even when we were dating. I used to admire his dedication.
Now, I wasn’t sure if he was really working late… or if he was with her.
When I arrived, I walked straight to his desk without knocking. Danny sat alone, surrounded by stacks of papers, his brows furrowed in concentration. He didn’t even notice me at first.
I cleared my throat.
“Hey,” I said, standing by his desk.
Danny looked up, surprised. “Oh, hey. What are you doing here?” He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair.
“You forgot your phone at home,” I said, placing it in front of him.
Danny picked it up.
“Oh. Thanks.” He checked the screen. “Did anyone call?”
“No,” I said.
Silence filled the room.
Danny tapped his fingers on the desk. I shifted on my feet.
“Well,” I said, forcing a small smile. “I should go.”
I turned toward the door.
“Kate,” Danny said softly.
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” I whispered, then walked away.
One day, Danny texted that he would be staying late at work. My heart pounded as I stared at the message.
I had seen it before—too many times. But this time, I couldn’t ignore the nagging doubt inside me.
I grabbed my keys, left work early, and drove straight to his office.
When I arrived, his car was still in the parking lot. That meant I hadn’t missed him. I parked a few spots away, my fingers gripping the steering wheel.
I just had to wait.
Minutes dragged by. My pulse quickened when I saw him step outside about twenty minutes later—exactly when his workday officially ended.
No extra hours. No late meetings.
So why had he said he’d be working late? Something was definitely off.
I watched as he walked to his car, looking relaxed, as if he had no idea I was sitting there, watching his every move.
He got in and drove away. My hands shook as I started my car and followed him at a safe distance.
After a while, he pulled up in front of a small house.
My stomach twisted. This was it. The answer to my fears.
Before I could think, a little girl, about four years old, ran out of the house, laughing.
A woman followed behind her.
The girl jumped into Danny’s arms, and he hugged her tight—like a father would hug his daughter.
I gasped. My whole body tensed.
Could the message have been from a child? Did Danny have another family?
Tears welled in my eyes.
I sat frozen in my car, watching the scene unfold. I wanted to scream, to demand answers, but I couldn’t move.
Danny stayed there for hours. My mind raced.
I couldn’t storm in, but I also couldn’t leave without knowing the truth.
When he finally left, I texted him, saying I was meeting a friend.
As soon as his car disappeared, I got out and walked to the house. My hands trembled as I rang the doorbell. Don’t cry.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
But when the woman opened the door, the tears fell anyway.
The woman stood in front of me, her expression shifting from confusion to concern the moment she saw my face.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft but urgent.
I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing.
“A-a-are you… M-Martha?” My voice trembled.
She blinked. “Yes. And you are…?”
“I’m Kate,” I said, barely above a whisper.
I wiped my damp cheeks, struggling to keep myself together. My chest felt tight, my pulse too fast.
Martha’s eyes widened in recognition. “Oh my God.
You’re Kate. Danny’s wife.”
I nodded again, unable to find the righ
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