He said we needed a new family picture.
Something polished, something “nice enough to frame for the hallway.” I didn’t question it. We were already dressed—he had some work commitment, I slipped on a blazer, and by some miracle, the kids were in great moods. Even our daughter chose her outfit without protest (her Elsa costume, of course).
He propped his phone on a chair, set the timer, and we all leaned in, smiling like the picture-perfect family. One of those snapshots that makes everything look easier than it is.
Later that night, once the kids were in bed and I was folding laundry, I thought I’d send the photo to my mom.
That’s when I saw it.
His laptop was sitting on the dining table, still open just enough to cast a faint glow across the wall. I wasn’t snooping—I just happened to walk by. But something caught my eye.
There, on the screen, was a document titled “Plan B.”
My heart gave a stutter. I froze.
It could’ve been anything, I told myself. A work file. Some old draft. But something about it made me pause. Maybe it was the late nights, the hushed phone calls, the sudden distance. I stepped closer.
And then I saw the list.
Names I didn’t recognize. Dates. Destinations. A plane ticket booked for a city I knew had nothing to do with his job. He was going somewhere—alone.
My chest tightened as I kept reading. Hotel bookings. Cryptic notes. It was too detailed, too rehearsed. Definitely not business.
Then I saw a message he had typed out, like a script:
“Everything’s ready. Once this is done, we move forward. She won’t suspect a thing.”
She won’t suspect a thing.
The words hit like ice water.
I clicked to the next page, desperate for an explanation. But there wasn’t one—just more plans, more proof that this wasn’t a harmless trip. It was something much bigger. Something that excluded me entirely.
The date of the flight? Just days away.
I closed the laptop slowly, my hands trembling, heart racing. My husband—the man I trusted, the father of my children—was planning something behind my back.
And whatever it was, he didn’t want me to find out.
But I had.
And now… I couldn’t unsee it.