Chapter 4: The Drawer That Held The Life I Never Knew
Andre didn’t answer.
That scared me more than if he had shouted.
He stood in the doorway of his office, one hand resting against the frame, his face unreadable. The man who always had an explanation for everything suddenly had nothing to say.
And I noticed.
For the first time in a long time, I noticed.
“You know about the message,” I whispered.
His eyes moved away from mine.
A tiny movement.
Almost invisible.
But I saw it.
“Simone, get out of my office.””
My stomach dropped.
Not What message?
Not Who contacted you?
Not Are you okay?
Just an order.
“Who sent it?””
“Does it matter?””
I stared at him.
“Yes.””
Andre walked into the room and closed the door behind him.
The click of the lock made my heart race.
“Unlock it,” I said immediately.
He stopped.
“What?””
“The door.””
His eyebrows lifted.
“Are you serious?””
“Unlock the door.””
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then something happened that I never thought I would see.
Andre looked uncomfortable.
Not angry.
Not annoyed.
Uncomfortable.
And that scared me more.
He unlocked the door.
I stepped farther away from him.
“What’s in the drawer?””
“Nothing.””
The answer came too quickly.
I almost smiled.
Because for years, I had been afraid of his anger.
But tonight, I was learning something new.
His fear was more dangerous.
“Then open it.””
“No.””
My chest tightened.
“You just said there was nothing.””
“There isn’t.””
“Then prove it.””
His jaw clenched.
“You’re really going to trust some random person over your husband?””
The question hit me.
Because that was exactly what he wanted.
He wanted me to feel guilty.
He wanted me to defend him.
He wanted me to forget the fact that I was standing in his office because someone had warned me about him.
“I’m not trusting anyone,” I said quietly.
I looked at the locked drawer.
“I’m trying to understand who I married.””
His expression changed.
A flash of anger.
Quick.
Sharp.
Gone.
“You’re making a mistake.””
“Maybe.””
I looked at him.
“But I’m tired of making the same one.””
The silence between us felt heavier than any argument we had ever had.
Finally, Andre walked toward the desk.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
He pulled a key from his pocket.
My eyes followed the movement.
“You carry the key?””
He didn’t answer.
That was answer enough.
He unlocked the drawer.
Then he opened it.
At first, I saw nothing unusual.
A few folders.
An old notebook.
Some envelopes.
Andre stepped aside.
“Happy?””
I didn’t move.
Because something was wrong.
The drawer looked too organized.
Too prepared.
Like someone had cleaned it before I arrived.
I walked closer.
My hands trembled as I picked up the first folder.
Insurance documents.
The second.
Tax paperwork.
The third folder was different.
No label.
No name.
Just a plain black cover.
I opened it.
And everything inside my body went cold.
Photos.
Not of me.
Not of us.
Of other women.
I stared at the first picture.
A woman sitting at a restaurant with Andre.
The second showed them walking together outside a hotel.
The third showed them holding hands.
My breathing stopped.
“What is this?””
Andre said nothing.
I turned another page.
More photos.
Different women.
Different places.
Different dates.
My fingers shook harder with every page.
“No.””
The word escaped my mouth.
“No, this isn’t…”
I couldn’t finish.
Because my brain was trying to protect me from the truth.
Trying to tell me there had to be another explanation.
There always had been another explanation.
He was stressed.
He was angry.
He made mistakes.
But this?
This wasn’t a mistake.
This was a collection.
A record.
A secret life.
“Simone.””
I looked up.
Andre’s voice was softer now.
That frightened me.
Because anger I understood.
Softness was what he used when he wanted me to stay.
“This isn’t what you think.””
I laughed once.
It was a broken sound.
“Then what is it?””
He took a step toward me.
“People exaggerate things.””
I looked back down at the photos.
“Are these people?””
He didn’t answer.
“Are these women real?””
“Of course they’re real.””
“Then what am I looking at?””
His silence stretched.
And suddenly, I understood.
The bruised eye.
The lies.
The hidden drawer.
The message.
They weren’t separate things.
They were pieces of the same story.
“How long?”” I asked.
Andre looked away.
“How long what?””
“How long have you been lying to me?””
His face hardened.
“You’re not going to turn this into something it isn’t.””
I looked at him.
“What is it then?””
“You’re upset.””
“No.””
My voice shook.
“I’m awake.””
That made him angry.
I saw it.
The anger moved across his face like a shadow.
“You need to calm down.””
There it was again.
The same words.
The same trick.
Make me emotional.
Make me unstable.
Make me feel like I was the problem.
“I’m calm,” I said.
I picked up another envelope from the drawer.
“I’m calm enough to see what’s right in front of me.””
Andre stepped forward.
“Put that down.””
I froze.
Not because he told me to.
Because of the tone.
The same tone he used before.
The one that came right before he lost control.
My body remembered before my mind did.
And I hated that.
I hated that my own body was afraid of my husband.
I slowly put the envelope back.
“Who sent me the message?””
Andre stared at me.
“I don’t know.””
I almost believed him.
Almost.
Then my eyes dropped to the desk.
There was something sitting near his computer.
A phone.
Not his regular phone.
A second one.
Black.
Simple.
Hidden behind a stack of files.
I looked at it.
Then at him.
Andre noticed.
And for the first time tonight, I saw real panic.
“Don’t.””
One word.
But it said everything.
I picked up the phone.
“Simone.””
I turned it on.
No password.
The screen opened immediately.
Like whoever owned it didn’t expect anyone else to see it.
There were messages.
Hundreds.
Names I didn’t recognize.
Numbers without contacts.
Photos.
My hands became numb.
Andre moved closer.
“Give me the phone.””
I stepped back.
“No.””
“Simone.””
“No.””
My voice cracked.
But I held onto it.
Because I finally understood something.
Every time I gave in, I lost a piece of myself.
Not tonight.
Tonight, I needed the truth.
I opened the messages.
The first conversation was from three weeks ago.
A woman’s name appeared at the top.
*Rachel.*
The message preview read:
*I can’t keep pretending you’re going to leave her.*
My heart stopped.
I scrolled.
Another message.
*You promised me she didn’t know.*
Another.
*You said your wife was only temporary.*
I couldn’t breathe.
Temporary.
The word burned.
I looked at Andre.
He looked like he had finally run out of places to hide.
“Simone…”
I held up the phone.
“How many?””
He didn’t answer.
“How many women?””
His silence was the only response I needed.
I felt tears forming.
But they weren’t tears of sadness anymore.
They were tears of humiliation.
I had spent years defending a man who had been living another life behind my back.
I had protected his reputation.
I had hidden his cruelty.
I had lied to the people who loved me.
And he had been doing this.
The phone buzzed in my hand.
A new message appeared.
From an unknown number.
I looked down.
The message had only one sentence.
*Ask him about Rachel’s baby.*
Everything stopped.
The room.
The air.
My heartbeat.
I slowly lifted my eyes toward Andre.
“Rachel has a baby?””
His face changed.
Not confusion.
Not surprise.
Fear.
And that was when I knew.
The truth I had been searching for was not hidden in the drawer.
It was much bigger.
May you like
Much darker.
And my husband had been protecting it all along.
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