Betrayal from trusted individuals hurts hardest. I didn’t realize it until a grocery store stranger saw my spouse and shattered my perception of him. What she said haunts me.
The sunset sun produced deep shadows across Henderson’s Market’s parking lot. As we carried goods into the trunk, Justin hummed, unusual for my quiet spouse. Eggs, milk, apples… I’d learned to love the everyday aspects of marriage over eight years.
“You’re in a good mood today!” I joked, pushing his shoulder.
He flashed that crooked grin that made me fall for him in college. “Just thinking about how lucky I am!”
After all these years, my heart still flutters. Maybe we were finally beyond that hard phase. Late nights at work, distant chats, and his sleepy start put me off. All seemed to lift.
Then she emerged.
With her hospital insignia shining, a woman in blue scrubs, maybe in her early 60s, passed us with a coffee. Then she saw Justin. She halted mid-step, squinted, and smiled the widest I’d ever seen.
“Well, if it isn’t the proud new daddy!”
Words hit me like freezing water. Justin stopped humming. His entire body stiffened.
“How are you holding up, dear?” she said, unaware of the bomb she unleashed. “That was probably the longest labor I’ve seen in 20 years. Eighteen hours! How are the baby and your wife doing?”
I saw my husband’s face become white. “I… er… you’ve got the wrong person,” he choked.
Sheila, her badge said, looked perplexed. “Oh? I could’ve sworn…” she said. “Sorry about that. You just look exactly like someone I know.”
She left, leaving us in the parking lot. Justin dropped the vehicle keys twice before opening the door.
“That was weird,” I murmured, looking for some answer in his expression.
“Yeah. Really weird. She probably thought I was someone else.” He ignored me. He continued playing with his keys.
I stared at the ceiling while Justin slept beside me that night. So sure, the woman was. Worked 18 hours. Baby. A wife.
Married to him. We’re babyless.
Rolling over, I studied Justin’s sleeping face. The same face I kissed goodbye every morning for eight years. The identical hands that held me during our wedding. How can a stranger know him better than me?
“You’re overthinking this, Livie,” I said. “People make mistakes.”
But doubt had been sowed and was developing.
I couldn’t concentrate. I kept thinking about the woman’s comments. By 1 a.m., I thought I was paranoid. Maybe Justin was correct. Just mistaken identity.
I got up for water at 2:17 a.m. to avoid waking him. His side of the bed was chilly and deserted when I turned. Checked the bathroom. He wasn’t there.
It was then I heard it. Phone call.
Justin’s quiet, agitated voice from his office came as I passed the corridor.
“She bought it completely. The whole mistaken identity thing. We can breathe easy now.”
Ice formed in my blood. I leaned toward the wall to hear more.
“I know, I know. It was close. Too close. But Olive doesn’t suspect anything.”
He mentioned me.
“Look, I’ll figure something out. I just need more time.”
I stepped away from the door, my heart racing to escape. I grabbed the kitchen counter… my fingers tense and breath shallow, like the walls might hear.
“Think, Olive. Think!” I said.
Then the reality hit me like an invisible hand.
Mia… dearest buddy.
Her house was two streets away. She gave birth three weeks ago… a girl named Sasha. I learned the father was someone she met online. An expat working abroad. We never met since our schedules “never aligned.”
But her due date… Justin started working late and departing for “emergency business trips.” on her due day.
My legs gave out, and I fell onto a kitchen chair.
No. This is impossible. My dearest pal Mia. Our friendship began in high school. My maid of honor. She helped me choose kitchen curtains.
Yet the parts were falling into place with terrible clarity. She avoided me lately. I found her anxious when I phoned. She usually shifted the conversation when I questioned about the baby’s paternity.
“This isn’t happening,” I muttered to the empty kitchen. “This can’t be happening.”
I scarcely slept that night. I returned to Henderson’s Market the next morning after Justin left for work, expecting to see Sheila. I didn’t know what I was thinking. Perhaps an indication of me becoming insane. That it was all my imagination.
I strolled the aisles, picking up and returning unwanted products. I almost gave up when I saw her.
Sheila was chatting to a customer service rep. My heart raced. This was my time to learn or prove everything incorrect.
I approached carefully, palms sweaty.
“Excuse me. Sheila?”
I saw recognition in her eyes as she turned.
“Oh! You’re the girl from yesterday. Small world. Came to meet my cousin who works here, dear.”
I shakily breathed “Yes. About that…” “I think there might’ve been a misunderstanding. You said you knew my husband.”
Her face shone. “Your husband??”
“Yes. The tall man who was with me yesterday… do you know him? Sheila, please… speak up.”
“Oh, of course I know him! Sweet man. First-time dad jitters, but he was wonderful during the delivery. Held the mother’s hand through the whole thing. I thought he was her husband, actually. I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know.”
“Do you… do you remember the mother’s name?”
Shelia paused. “Well, I probably shouldn’t say. Patient confidentiality and all that. But I can tell you this… he was listed as the birth partner on all the paperwork.”
“What does that mean exactly?”
“Well, usually it’s the father or the spouse. Someone who’s going to be actively involved in the baby’s life.”
The earth shook as if the planet retreated. Before my legs gave out, I grabbed the counter.
“Thank you,” I muttered.
I stared at my phone for 20 minutes in the parking lot. Right there was Mia’s number. Calling her was enough. But I was afraid of what I may hear.
I dialed last. On the second ring, she replied cheerfully.
“Olive! What a nice surprise. How are you?”
“I need to ask you something, Mia. And I need you to tell me the truth.”
“What’s going on?”
“I met the nurse. Sheila. The one who delivered Sasha. She recognized Justin. Said he was your birth partner.”
Long, dreadful quiet. Then “Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say? Oh?”
“Olive, I…”
“You knew we were still together. You’ve been to our house. You sat at my kitchen table and lied to my face.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Then make it simple for me, Mia. Is Sasha my husband’s baby?”
Another extended pause. So: “Yes. Yes, she is! God… she is. Yes!”
World quieted. Except for my heartbeat and distant cars, all else evaporated. I just thought of Mia and Justin’s kid.
“How long?”
“Two years. Olive, he told me your marriage was over. He said you were staying together for appearances… for his family, okay? He said you hadn’t been happy in years.”
“That’s not true.”
“He said you were controlling. That you made him feel trapped. That he was only staying because divorce would ruin his reputation with his family.”
Words were knife-twisted. “We were building a life together, Mia. We were planning to start trying for a baby next year.”
“He never told me that.”
“Of course he didn’t. How could you do this to me? How could you both do this to me?”
“I’m sorry, Olive. I really am. But you have to understand… we love each other. We didn’t mean for it to happen this way.”
“Love?? You call this love? Lying and sneaking around… and destroying my marriage?”
“Maybe now you can finally move on. Maybe this is better for everyone.”
I hung up.
***
Driving home in a haze, muscle memory guided me through familiar but unfamiliar streets. It everything looked alike. Nothing was identical. The house we purchased together. Our planted garden. The planned future. Nothing.
All falsehoods underpinned it.
Packing a backpack with shaky hands. Essentials only. I couldn’t remain longer. I couldn’t pretend everything was normal when hubby got home from work.
I wrote on the kitchen table. Four words: “I know the truth.”
He’d comprehend. He was always wiser than he thought.
Three towns away, I traveled to my sister’s. She took one glance at my face and grabbed me without asking.
***
Divorce was cruel. In little town Cedar Pines, everyone had an opinion about right and wrong. Some sided. Some merely watched the drama like their favorite soap show.
I stopped caring. Let them chat.
Justin sought to defend his actions. Confused, he said. And that he never intended to hurt me. He planned to inform me later.
“When?” I inquired in one of our last discussions. “When Sasha graduated from high school? When we were both old and gray?”
That stumped him.
***
Henderson’s Market was my grocery store three months later. It was my first return since that day. My strength has grown. More stable. My agony had faded, leaving a peacelike feeling.
In the vegetable department, I noticed Sheila in her scrubs, perhaps eating supper after a long shift.
With a hesitant smile, she approached me.
“I hope you know I’m sorry about all that confusion,” stated. “I had no idea I was causing problems. Hope everything’s okay… at home.”
I glanced at her and knew she’d caused my best experience. She broke my lie and made me face reality.
“You didn’t cause any problems. You showed me who I was really married to. And for that, I’m grateful.”
She looked astonished, then relieved. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“I’m more than okay. I’m free.”
People believe they can hide the truth in lovely falsehoods and hope it remains buried forever. Truth is like water. It always reappears. It seeps through fissures, pops up unexpectedly, and floods everything you thought you’d established on firm ground.
Justin and Mia felt they were smart and careful. I played the fool while they believed they might have the perfect family.
Everyone eventually pays for deceit. Not only does the truth free you… It destroys everything phony. Everything.
