Chapter 3 - Six Months of Missing Pieces
We sat at the kitchen table until almost two in the morning.
The house was quiet.
Caleb was asleep upstairs.
The food Simone had cooked still sat in containers on the counter because neither of us had remembered to put everything away.
I looked at my wife across the table.
“Tell me the truth. All of it.”
She folded her hands.
“What do you want to know?”
“How it started.”
Simone stared at the wood grain.
“In March, we started talking more at work. We had lunch together sometimes.”
“Just the two of you?”
“Sometimes.”
I waited.
“He knew I was having a difficult time.”
“With what?”
She hesitated.
“With us.”
That hurt.
I had known we were tired.
We both worked demanding jobs. I was a mechanic for the city's transit department, often covering early morning or evening shifts when buses needed emergency repairs.
Simone worked at the clinic.
Between our schedules and Caleb's activities, we had very little time together.
But I hadn't known she considered our marriage in serious trouble.
“What did you tell him?”
“That we barely talked anymore. That I felt lonely.”
“Did you tell me those things?”
“Not enough.”
I nodded.
She wiped her eyes.
“Daniel listened.”
I looked toward the window.
A car passed slowly outside.
I waited until the sound faded.
“And then?”
“We started texting.”
“What kind of texts?”
She didn't answer immediately.
“Personal ones.”
“Romantic?”
“Yes.”
I swallowed.
“When did it become physical?”
She began crying harder.
“Andre, please.”
“When?”
“June.”
I felt sick.
June.
I remembered June.
Caleb had started summer swimming lessons.
I had taken him to most of them because Simone said the clinic was understaffed.
One Thursday, he'd looked into the bleachers and asked why his mother never came to watch.
I had told him she was working hard.
I had meant it.
“Those Thursday evenings,” I said slowly. “Were you with him?”
Simone covered her face.
“Some of them.”
I pushed my chair back.
For a moment, I couldn't sit still.
I walked to the sink and gripped the counter.
I thought about Caleb swimming across the shallow end, looking up after each lap to see whether his mother had arrived.
I thought about telling him to keep practicing because she'd make it next week.
I looked at Simone.
“He kept asking for you.”
“I know.”
“He was looking for you.”
She nodded, crying silently.
“And you were with Daniel?”
“Yes.”
That was the moment something inside me shifted.
Before, I'd been trying to understand whether my marriage could survive a betrayal.
Now I was beginning to understand how many ordinary moments had been sacrificed to keep that betrayal hidden.
I returned to the table.
“Does Daniel know our schedules?”
Simone nodded.
“He knew I usually worked Saturdays.”
“And that I usually leave the house by two?”
“Yes.”
I looked at the clock.
Yesterday, my supervisor had approved a shift swap because I wanted to spend the afternoon with Caleb.
Simone knew.
Daniel apparently didn't.
That explained the phone call.
He'd expected me to be gone.
“Were you planning to see him today?”
She stared at me.
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The answer I had been circling all evening.
This wasn't a misunderstanding.
It wasn't a careless message.
They had made plans around my absence.
Simone reached across the table.
“Andre, I know how terrible this looks.”
I moved my hand away.
“It doesn't look terrible. It is terrible.”
She pulled back.
“I don't love him the way I love you.”
I studied her face.
“Then why were you arranging to see him while I was at work?”
She didn't answer.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Then she said, “I liked feeling wanted.”
I let those words settle.
I could understand loneliness.
I could understand feeling overlooked.
I couldn't understand using those feelings to justify months of dishonesty.
“You could have told me we were in trouble.”
“I was afraid we'd fight.”
“And now?”
She looked around the kitchen.
“Now I'm afraid I'll lose everything.”
I glanced toward the hallway.
Caleb's school picture was hanging beside the refrigerator.
His smile was missing one front tooth.
We'd taken that photograph home only the previous week.
I looked back at Simone.
“Did you ever think about what Caleb might lose?”
She broke down.
I didn't comfort her.
Not because I wanted her to suffer.
Because I finally understood that comforting her had become my instinct even when she was the person who needed to take responsibility.
I stood.
“We need to decide what we're going to tell our son.”
Simone wiped her face.
“Are you leaving me?”
I couldn't answer yet.
May you like
But I knew one thing.
Whatever happened to our marriage, I wasn't going to build the next part of Caleb's childhood on another lie.
