Chapter 3: The Women Behind His Lies
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
The coffee shop noise faded into the background.
The sound of cups clinking.
The low conversations around me.
The music playing softly overhead.
Everything disappeared.
Because the woman on the phone had just said something impossible.
Something that shouldn’t exist outside of a nightmare.
“I’m not the only wife he has.””
My fingers tightened around my phone.
“What did you just say?””
The woman took a shaky breath.
“My name is Claire.””
I closed my eyes.
Claire.
The woman from the grocery store.
The woman who had stood beside my husband while her son called him Daddy.
“I don’t understand.””
“I know.””
Her voice sounded exhausted.
Like she had repeated those words to herself a thousand times.
“I didn’t understand either.””
I looked across the table at Elena.
She was watching my face carefully.
She already knew.
Somehow, she already knew this was coming.
“Claire,” I said slowly, “are you saying you’re married to Marcus?””
A pause.
Then:
“Yes.””
The word was quiet.
But it destroyed whatever hope I had left.
I looked down at the photograph Elena had given me.
The woman in the wedding dress.
The handwritten message.
The promise.
Forever.
A promise Marcus had apparently made to everyone except me.
“How long?”” I whispered.
“What?””
“How long have you been married to him?””
Claire didn’t answer right away.
And that hesitation told me everything.
“Six years,” she finally said.
My heart stopped.
Six years.
I had been married to Marcus for seven.
Seven years.
That meant for almost my entire marriage, Marcus had been living another life.
Another home.
Another family.
Another version of himself.
I felt sick.
“Does your son know about me?””
“No.””
The answer came quickly.
“He thinks Marcus works a lot.””
I looked away.
A child.
An innocent child who loved a man who had built his life on lies.
“Why are you calling me?””
Claire was silent.
Then she said:
“Because I found out yesterday.””
My eyebrows tightened.
“Found out what?””
“That Marcus wasn’t working overtime.””
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because it was cruel.
The exact same lie.
The exact same excuse.
The exact same words.
“He told me the same thing,” I whispered.
Claire exhaled.
“I know.””
“How?””
“Because I saw his messages.””
My stomach turned.
“What messages?””
“He was talking to another woman.””
My hand covered my mouth.
Another woman.
Not me.
Not Claire.
Someone else.
Elena leaned forward.
“What did she say?”” she mouthed.
I put the phone on speaker.
Claire’s voice filled the small space between us.
“She said she missed him.””
A cold silence followed.
Then Elena asked:
“How many?””
Claire paused.
“How many what?””
“How many women?””
Nobody spoke.
Not for several seconds.
Then Claire answered.
“I don’t know.””
That was somehow worse.
I left the coffee shop with Elena and Claire on the phone.
We didn’t know each other.
We were strangers.
But somehow, the three of us were connected by the same person.
The same man.
The same lies.
I walked toward my car holding the envelope against my chest.
A part of me wanted to wake up.
I wanted this to be a misunderstanding.
A terrible coincidence.
I wanted Marcus to call and say:
“Nia, someone is trying to hurt me.””
I wanted to believe him.
Because believing him was easier than accepting the truth.
But then I remembered the grocery store.
The little boy’s voice.
“Because he is my daddy.””
There was no misunderstanding.
There was only a truth I wasn’t ready to face.
When I reached my car, Elena touched my arm.
“Nia.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“You need to be careful.””
I almost smiled.
“Careful?””
“Yes.””
“With my husband?””
Her expression changed.
“With Marcus.””
That difference bothered me.
Because she wasn’t talking about him as my husband.
She was talking about him like someone who had survived him.
“What are you not telling me?””
Elena looked down.
“I should have told you years ago.””
“Told me what?””
She swallowed.
“When Marcus left me, I wasn’t the first woman.””
I froze.
“What?””
“He was already seeing someone before me.””
My chest tightened.
“How many people are there?””
Elena looked away.
“I don’t know.””
The same answer.
The same terrifying answer.
I unlocked my car.
“Nobody knows who Marcus really is.””
Elena’s voice followed me.
“Except maybe one person.””
I stopped.
“Who?””
She hesitated.
“His mother.””
I drove home after sunset.
The entire way, I kept expecting myself to break down.
To scream.
To cry.
Anything.
But I didn’t.
I felt strangely calm.
And that scared me more.
Sometimes your heart hurts so badly that it stops reacting.
When I pulled into the driveway, Marcus’s car was already there.
The house looked exactly the same.
The porch light was on.
The flowers I planted last spring were still growing beside the steps.
Everything looked normal.
That was the cruelest part.
A stranger walking by would think this was a happy home.
They wouldn’t know that inside those walls, a woman was about to confront a man who had spent years pretending.
I walked inside.
Marcus was standing in the living room.
He looked exhausted.
Good.
For once, I wanted him to feel uncomfortable.
“Nia.””
I dropped my keys on the table.
“We need to talk.””
He nodded slowly.
“I know.””
“No.””
My voice was colder than I expected.
“You don’t know.””
His face tightened.
“What does that mean?””
“It means you still think this is about the grocery store.””
Marcus looked away.
That small movement told me everything.
“What else did you find?””
The question was almost a confession.
I laughed once.
“You tell me.””
He rubbed his face.
“Nia, please.””
“Please what?””
“I can explain.””
“Then explain.””
Silence.
I stepped closer.
“Who is Claire?””
His face changed.
Only for a second.
But I saw it.
Recognition.
Fear.
“You talked to her?””
I felt my stomach twist.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
Recognition.
“You know exactly who she is.””
Marcus sat down.
“Nia…”
“Who is she?””
He looked at the floor.
“She’s complicated.””
I stared at him.
“Complicated?””
“Yes.””
“That’s your explanation?””
He stood up.
“She has a child.””
I laughed bitterly.
“A child?””
I pointed toward him.
“Your child.””
His shoulders dropped.
“Yes.””
The honesty shocked me.
After all the lies, one truth almost felt worse.
“How long?””
He didn’t answer.
“HOW LONG, MARCUS?””
“Six years.””
My eyes burned.
Six years.
He had said it like it was a number.
Like it wasn’t half of our marriage.
Like it wasn’t thousands of mornings.
Thousands of nights.
Thousands of moments I thought belonged only to us.
“Were you ever going to tell me?””
He looked at me.
And that was the moment I saw it.
Not guilt.
Not shame.
Fear.
“I was trying to fix it.””
“Fix what?””
“Everything.””
I shook my head.
“You don’t fix a life by creating three more.””
He flinched.
Good.
Because I needed him to understand.
I wasn’t just hurt.
I was awake.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message.
From an unknown number.
I looked at the screen.
My blood turned cold.
It was a photo.
A recent photo.
Marcus standing outside a courthouse.
Holding hands with another woman.
A woman I had never seen.
Underneath the photo was a message:
*“Nia, if you think Claire is the only secret, you’re still not seeing the whole picture.””*
I looked up at Marcus.
He was watching my face.
And when he saw the photo…
He went completely silent.
Because he knew exactly who she was.
“Who is that woman?”” I asked.
Marcus didn’t answer.
“Who is she?””
His lips parted.
And finally, after everything…
After all the lies…
After all the secrets…
He whispered one name.
A name I had never heard before.
May you like
A name that would change everything.
“Victoria.””
