FOUND HIS OTHER PHONE HIDDEN INSIDE THE SOCK DRAWER — IT HAD HER NAME ON IT
My fingers brushed against something hard deep inside the sock drawer where I never looked. It was heavy, coated in a thick layer of dust – an old flip phone, tucked beneath a pile of socks I hadn’t touched in years. My heart started a slow, heavy drumbeat against my ribs as I fumbled to turn it on. The screen finally flared to life, harsh and bright in the dim afternoon light filtering through the blinds.
No passcode needed. The call log was open, filled with dozens of calls and texts to one name I didn’t recognize. The timestamps were from late last night, and the night before that. Then I heard the distinct click of the front door opening downstairs, followed by heavy footsteps on the stairs.
He walked into the bedroom and froze completely when his eyes landed on the phone in my trembling hand. His face drained of all color instantly, then flushed a dark, furious red. His voice was low, a dangerous rumble. “Give that back!” he snarled, lunging towards me across the room.
I stumbled back, clutching the phone tightly against my chest, the cold plastic digging into my palm. I scrolled frantically through the message thread, seeing plans, meetings, whispers of large amounts of money and strange promises. The woman’s name, repeated over and over at the top of the conversation, was Sarah.
Then a new text message popped up: ‘Almost there. Did you finish it?’
👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*He stopped his advance, his eyes darting between my face and the phone. He looked like a cornered animal, all fight or flight. “It’s not what you think,” he said, his voice tight, barely a whisper.
“Then what is it?” I demanded, my voice shaking. “Who is Sarah? What ‘did you finish’?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his breathing ragged. “It’s… it’s a business deal,” he stammered. “Sarah is a… a consultant. The money… it’s an investment.”
I laughed, a short, bitter sound. “An investment you hid in a sock drawer on a phone you didn’t tell me about? An investment that requires secret late-night calls and promises?” I held up the phone, the screen still illuminated with the incriminating text. “This doesn’t look like an investment, it looks like a lie.”
He looked defeated, shoulders slumped. He sank onto the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands. “It started small,” he mumbled. “Just a little help getting things off the ground. But it got complicated.”
“Complicated how?” I pressed, refusing to let him off the hook.
He finally looked up, his eyes pleading. “She knew people,” he admitted. “People who could help me get a project I’ve been working on for years finally funded. But there were… conditions. Things I wasn’t proud of.”
I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He hesitated, then continued, “She wanted me to… influence a vote on a zoning permit. Something that would benefit her clients. I refused at first, but the pressure kept building. I needed the money, and she knew it.”
My stomach churned. “So, the ‘it’ in that text… you’re talking about bribery?”
He nodded miserably. “I haven’t done anything yet, I swear! I was going to back out. That’s why I got this phone, so you wouldn’t see the messages and get suspicious. I was going to tell her I couldn’t do it.”
The anger drained out of me, replaced by a cold disappointment. The man I thought I knew, the man I trusted, was willing to compromise his integrity, our relationship, for a chance at success.
I handed him the phone. “You need to call her,” I said, my voice flat. “Tell her it’s over. Tell her you won’t do it. And then you need to decide if this ‘project’ is worth losing everything else.”
He took the phone, his hand shaking. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of shame and hope. “I will,” he said. “I promise. I’ll call her right now.”
He stood up and walked out of the room, phone in hand, leaving me alone in the dim light. I didn’t know what the future held, whether we could recover from this betrayal. But as I sat there, listening to the muffled sound of his voice on the phone downstairs, I knew that the only way forward was honesty. The kind that had been missing from our lives for too long. The choice was his now. He had a mess to clean up, and the first step was telling the truth. And then, we would see if there was anything left to salvage.