NO ONE ELSE CAN KNOW,” IN MY HUSBAND’S COAT — I BLUFFED TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF IT.
Although I was happy in my marriage, balancing my family life and my work as a photographer was always a delicate dance. One morning, the kids were playing, and Denton had left for work, tossing an old coat onto the donation pile the night before. “Just clearing out clutter,” he’d said casually.
As I sorted through the pile, I felt something in the coat’s pocket — a small, folded note. The handwriting was neat but hurried, and it sent a chill through me: “THIS IS BETWEEN US. NO ONE ELSE CAN KNOW.”
On the back was a phone number. I froze, questions racing through my mind. Who wrote this? What was James hiding? That night, I acted normal, even as the note burned in my pocket. James laughed with the kids and kissed me goodnight as if nothing was wrong.
The next morning, after he left, I dialed the number. “Hello?” a woman answered. “I’D LIKE TO BOOK YOUR SERVICES!” I blurted, unsure if my bluff would work. “If you have my number, you know the payment terms,” she replied. “Come tomorrow at 2 p.m.” And she gave me the address. The next afternoon, as I stepped out of the taxi at 2 p.m., I was taken aback.
