The “Babe” Caller

I was halfway through folding laundry when I heard the cab door slam outside, and his voice carried through the cracked window, loud and cheerful: “Thanks, babe!” My hands froze on the t-shirt I was holding, the fabric warm and wrinkled from the dryer.

I peeked through the blinds, and there he was, my boyfriend, Mark, standing on the curb. He was smiling, his phone pressed to his ear, his other hand stuffed in his pocket like nothing was wrong. But I didn’t call him. I wasn’t there.

“Who were you talking to?” I asked as soon as he walked in, trying to keep my voice steady. He paused, his eyes darting to the floor. “Just a friend,” he said, shrugging off his jacket. The smell of his cologne filled the air, but suddenly it made my stomach turn.

“Funny,” I shot back, “since you called her ‘babe.’” His face went pale, and he opened his mouth to say something, but the sound of his phone buzzing cut him off.

He glanced at the screen and quickly silenced it, but not before I saw the name: *Emily.*

Then the doorbell rang.

👇 *Full story continued in the comments…*I watched him as he slowly turned towards the door, his face a mask of dread. “I… I’ll get it,” he mumbled, his voice barely a whisper. He shuffled past me, his usual confident stride replaced with a hesitant walk. My heart hammered in my chest. This wasn’t just a misunderstanding.

I followed him, my feet feeling heavy, as he reached for the door. He took a deep breath and opened it. Standing on the porch was a woman, Emily, the woman whose name was on his phone, a woman I’d never met. She was beautiful, with long, flowing hair and bright eyes. She looked surprised, then a sly smile crept across her face.

“Mark,” she said, her voice smooth and melodic. Her eyes flicked over to me. “Oh, I didn’t realize you had company.”

Mark looked utterly defeated. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to speak. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken accusations. I stepped forward, trying to find my voice, but my throat felt constricted.

Finally, I managed to squeak out, “Is there something I can help you with, Emily?”

Emily didn’t answer me. She turned back to Mark, her smile widening. “I left my phone in your cab. The driver said you’d just gotten out.”

The relief on Mark’s face was palpable. He seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping. “Oh, yes,” he said, his voice regaining some of its color. “Come in, please.”

He ushered her inside, and I retreated to the kitchen, my head spinning. It was still the smell of his cologne that made me nauseous. I watched them from the kitchen door as Emily retrieved her phone from the coffee table. They exchanged a few more words, their voices low.

I considered the possibilities. Had he been unfaithful? Was this a simple coincidence? Was I overreacting? I knew that Emily was an office colleague of his, but I had never had any cause for any reason to suspect anything.

As Emily turned to leave, she walked toward me. She stopped, her eyes locking on mine. “He’s a good guy,” she said softly, her voice genuine. “He’s really lucky to have you.” Then she left.

Mark slowly walked into the kitchen, I watched him. He stood there for a moment, then, without saying a word, he walked over to me and wrapped his arms around me, holding me close.

After he was quiet for a moment he pulled away and looked at me, ” I am sorry for that, there is nothing more to it, I’m sorry.”

He had a look of regret and then said, “I was just trying to be friendly, I didn’t want you to feel the need to worry about me, as if there was something going on I wanted to hide from you.”

Then he added, “You’re right, it was stupid. I should have just told you it was Emily. I just didn’t want to make a mountain out of a molehill.”

He apologized again, his eyes earnest. I took a deep breath, and with a decision I said: “I forgive you.”

He nodded, then he kissed me, and I kissed him back. The tension that had been hanging in the air finally seemed to dissipate.

That evening, we sat on the couch and folded laundry together, side by side. The wrinkled fabric from the dryer felt warm in my hands, and the familiar scent of Mark’s cologne no longer made me nauseous. The incident with Emily, though unsettling, had also brought us closer, revealing our vulnerability and the strength of our love. I had been right to trust him and my own instincts, as I still had faith in him.