I FOUND HIS OTHER PHONE UNDER THE CAR SEAT THIS MORNING
I was already shaking when I saw the small black box wedged tight under the passenger seat. It was stuffed deep down, barely visible under the worn edge of the floor mat, like he’d shoved it there in a panic just before he picked me up. My heart was hammering against my ribs as my fingers fumbled, pulling it out from beneath the worn leather. The smooth, cool plastic felt sickeningly foreign in my hand, a stark contrast to the familiar mess of gum wrappers and loose change scattered there.
It was a burner phone, one I never knew existed, a secret kept completely hidden from my sight. The screen lit up as I fumbled with the power button, presenting a lock screen that mocked me. I somehow knew his birthday would work – and it did instantly.
A cascade of messages flooded the screen the moment it unlocked, all from the same number simply labeled ‘J’. Page after page of texts, stretching back months, filled with inside jokes and stolen moments only *we* were supposed to have, my gut twisting tighter with each scroll. “Did you tell her yet? Wednesday?” one message read, making the air inside the car feel suddenly thin and suffocatingly hot. They were planning things, *my* things, behind my back for months.
Then I scrolled further, my hand trembling so hard I almost dropped it, and saw a photo they’d sent each other. It was a picture of the small, isolated lake house *we* booked for our upcoming anniversary trip, with a sickeningly sweet heart drawn over it in red pen. He wasn’t just cheating; he was planning our special milestone with someone else, right under my nose.
My own phone buzzed violently in the cup holder beside me, a text from *him* saying ‘Be ready in five minutes’.
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*My own phone buzzed violently in the cup holder beside me, a text from *him* saying ‘Be ready in five minutes’.
Five minutes. He was almost here. My mind raced, a panicked animal trapped in a burning building. Shoving the burner phone into my handbag, zip scraping loudly in the sudden silence of the car, I tried to smooth my breathing, to shove the image of the lake house photo deep into the pit in my stomach where it joined the gnawing fear. How could he? How long? “Did you tell her yet? Wednesday?” Wednesday. That was today.
The car door opened and he slid into the driver’s seat, flashing me a quick, easy smile. “Hey, sorry I’m running a little late. Ready?”
He reached for the ignition, keys jingling, completely oblivious. Or performing. I didn’t know which was worse. My voice came out thin, strained. “Who is J?”
His hand froze on the keys. The smile faltered, replaced by a look of confusion that quickly morphed into something else – a flicker of panic, swiftly masked. “J? Who are you talking about?”
“Don’t,” I said, my voice gaining strength, hardening with a cold fury I didn’t know I possessed. “Don’t lie to me. Not now.” I pulled my handbag onto my lap, not taking out the phone, but my hand was on it, a silent threat. “I found it. Under the seat.”
His face drained of color. The carefully constructed mask shattered, revealing the guilt and terror beneath. “Look, I can explain,” he started, fumbling for words, his eyes darting everywhere but at me.
“Explain what?” I asked, my voice dangerously low. “Explain the messages? Explain planning our anniversary trip… with her? Explain ‘Did you tell her yet? Wednesday?’ Is that what you were going to do today? Finally *tell* me?”
He slumped back in the seat, defeated. “It… it just happened. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“But it did,” I finished for him. “Months of it. Planning things behind my back. Using *our* plans.” The image of the lake house photo flashed behind my eyes again, the sickeningly sweet heart. It felt like a physical blow.
Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. He didn’t deserve my tears. “Get out,” I said, my voice shaking slightly now, but firm.
He looked up, bewildered. “What? Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t care,” I said, opening my door. The cool air hit my face, a welcome shock after the suffocating heat of betrayal inside the car. “Just get out of my car. Get out of my life.”
I grabbed my bag, the burner phone still a cold weight inside it, and stepped out onto the pavement. I didn’t look back as I walked away, leaving him sitting there, alone in the car that had hidden his secret for so long. The future stretched ahead, terrifying and empty, but at least it was free of the lies that had just been revealed. The shaking hadn’t stopped, but with every step, it felt less like fear and more like the tremor of breaking free.