Chapter 2: The Secret They Buried
I left my mother’s house without saying goodbye.
I don’t remember grabbing my keys.
I don’t remember walking through the front door.
I only remember standing outside beside my car, breathing cold night air into lungs that felt too small.
Behind me was the house where I spent every Sunday dinner.
Where my father taught me to ride a bike.
Where my mother cried when I graduated college.
Now it felt like a crime scene.
My phone rang before I reached the driver’s seat.
Marcus.
I watched his name flash across the screen.
Once.
Twice.
Five times.
I finally answered.
“What?””
“Nia, please don’t drive like this.””
I laughed.
“You’re worried about my driving?””
“Yes.””
“Interesting.””
“Nia—”
“You slept with my mother.””
Silence.
The silence said everything.
I gripped the steering wheel.
“I need you to explain something.””
“Anything.””
“When did you stop loving me?””
His breathing changed.
“I never stopped.””
“Then when did you decide I was replaceable?””
“That’s not fair.””
I closed my eyes.
“Fair?””
I looked at my reflection in the windshield.
My face looked unfamiliar.
“You are standing in the same house where I watched my father’s funeral happen. The same kitchen where my mother taught me how to make pancakes. And you’re telling me about fairness?””
“Nia, I made a mistake.””
“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary.””
I swallowed.
“A mistake is buying the wrong gift.””
My voice cracked.
“This was a choice.””
He didn’t argue.
That hurt too.
I ended the call.
For three days, I stayed at a hotel near my office.
Not because I needed luxury.
Because I needed a place where nobody knew me.
Nobody knew my mother.
Nobody knew Marcus.
I worked during the day.
At night, I stared at the ceiling.
Every memory became suspicious.
Every photograph became evidence.
On the fourth morning, I opened my email and saw a message from my mother.
Subject: Please read this.
I almost deleted it.
Almost.
But curiosity is cruel.
The message was short.
“Nia, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness. I need you to know there are things Marcus has not told you.””
My stomach tightened.
Attached was a document.
I opened it.
It was a medical appointment summary.
My mother’s name.
Pregnancy confirmation.
Estimated conception date.
I stared at the date.
Then I looked at my calendar.
The weekend Marcus claimed he was away.
The weekend he told me his phone battery died.
The weekend I believed him.
A knock came at my hotel door.
I froze.
“Nia?””
My mother’s voice.
I didn’t answer.
“Nia, please.””
I walked toward the door.
Not to open it.
Just to listen.
“I know you hate me right now.””
I closed my eyes.
“You should.””
A quiet sob came from the hallway.
“But you deserve the whole truth.””
I opened the door.
My mother stood there holding a folder.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
“What truth?””
She handed me the folder.
“There was someone else before Marcus.””
My fingers tightened.
“What?””
She looked down.
“Someone who knew him before you did.””
I opened the folder.
Inside was a photograph.
Marcus.
Standing beside a woman I had never seen.
And behind them was a date.
A date from before I met him.
My mother whispered:
“Nia, that woman is the reason Marcus came into our lives.””
I looked at the photograph again.
The woman beside Marcus was smiling.
May you like
And written on the back of the picture were six words that made my blood run cold.
*She was supposed to be his wife.*
