I always thought it was adorable when Pico picked up phrases — his laugh sounded just like mine, he’d greet me with “Good morning!” when I entered the kitchen, and sometimes he’d even say things like “Where’s my coffee?” in a voice eerily like mine.
But about two months ago, he started saying something different.
“Don’t tell her.”
He repeated it over and over, in a soft voice with the same pause between words. At first, I assumed he’d heard it from a movie or background noise.
Then things got weirder. Even when no TV or radio was on, Pico would say it, tilting his head, puffing his chest, sounding like he was hiding something. I tried to ignore it, thinking parrots mimic what they hear. But the words felt too deliberate—as if Pico knew something I didn’t.
One night, while I was on the couch, he added a new line:
“Don’t tell her. I’ll make it right.”
That sent a chill down my spine. It wasn’t just random mimicry anymore — Pico was trying to tell me something important. My mind raced, and I asked softly, “What are you trying to tell me?”
He blinked and repeated: “Don’t tell her. I’ll make it right.”
My heart flipped. Immediately, I thought of Rob, my fiancé. Things seemed fine between us after five years, but now I was filled with doubt. How could Pico know something about Rob?
At first, I tried to brush it off — maybe Rob said something by accident. But then one day, Rob came home late and acted distant. When I asked about his day, he gave vague answers and kept checking his phone.
That night, Pico said the words again, clear as day: “Don’t tell her. I’ll make it right.”
Rob suddenly froze beside me, glanced at Pico’s cage, then back at me — caught.
I asked, voice trembling, “What’s going on? Why does Pico keep saying that?”
Rob looked at the bird, guilt written all over his face. After a long silence, he confessed, “I need to tell you something. I did something wrong.”
My heart pounded. “What do you mean?”
He admitted, “I’ve been seeing someone else. I thought I could fix it and hide it, but things got worse.”
I felt like the floor dropped beneath me. “You… you’ve been seeing someone else? How could you?”
He apologized, saying he never meant to hurt me and wanted to make it right.
I was flooded with betrayal and confusion — but then it hit me. Pico had been warning me all along.
I looked at Pico sitting calmly on his perch. Had he really known before I did?
Angrily, I said to Rob, “You lied to me.”
Rob begged for forgiveness, promising to change, but I knew I couldn’t stay with someone who betrayed me — especially after Pico’s warnings.
In the days that followed, I chose to end things. It was heartbreaking, but I trusted myself and Pico.
Life has strange ways of revealing truth. Pico wasn’t just a pet — he was my unexpected guide, showing me what I needed to see.
The lesson I learned: trust your instincts. Sometimes the truth comes from the most unlikely places — and when it does, you’ll find the strength to do what’s right.
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