I left the forks beneath the mattress and tucked Alex into bed.
Then I stepped into the hallway and called Brandon.
“Why are there dozens of forks hidden beneath our son’s mattress?”
Silence filled the line.
“It’s only a game,” he finally answered.
“What kind of game?”
“I called it Treasure Knights. The forks are silver swords protecting the castle.”
“Then why did you make Alex promise not to tell me?”
“Cece, you’re making this bigger than it is.”
“No. You involved our five-year-old son in a secret and repeatedly lied when I asked about it.”
Brandon exhaled slowly.
“My overtime hours were reduced. I didn’t want you worrying about money, so I invented a game to distract Alex when I came home late.”
His explanation made no sense.
“How long have your hours been reduced?”
“A few weeks.”
“How many weeks?”
“Maybe two months. I’m tired, and I have an early shift. Can we discuss this when I return on Sunday?”
I wanted answers immediately, but there was something desperate in his voice.
“Fine. Sunday. But you are going to tell me everything.”
After ending the call, I stood alone in the hallway.
Then I entered our bedroom and searched Brandon’s side of the closet.
I did not know what I expected to find.
Behind a stack of jeans, beneath an old shoebox, I discovered a manila folder.
Inside were overdue bills, credit-card statements, a second phone, and a signed rental agreement for a studio apartment across town.
My stomach twisted.
I called my sister, Marion.
“I think Brandon is having an affair.”
She immediately became alert.
I told her about the missing forks, the secret game, the second phone, and the apartment.
“A hidden phone and a secret apartment?” she said. “You need to speak to a lawyer before confronting him.”
“He said his overtime had been reduced.”
“That is exactly the kind of excuse people use when they are hiding something.”
Her words made my fear worse.
After we ended the call, I sent Brandon a message.
“I found the phone and the apartment agreement. Don’t come home on Sunday. Don’t come home at all.”
He called almost immediately.
For seven years, I had never heard my husband cry.
But that night, his voice broke.
“Cece, please let me explain in person. It isn’t what you think.”
“Then tell me now.”
“I can’t do this over the phone.”
“You had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth.”
