He left with a backpack, a passport, and a promise: “Don’t worry, I’ll behave.” I believed him—he was my husband, after all. When he returned from Thailand, something was different. He seemed distant, but I dismissed it as post-vacation blues. Life went on, and the months slipped by. Then, nearly a year later, an email from a stranger landed in my inbox. The subject line alone sent a chill through me: “You don’t know me, but I know your husband.” What she revealed didn’t just shatter my marriage—it made me question whether I had ever truly known him at all.
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The email left me unsettled, pulling my thoughts back to Thailand. Sitting alone in my living room, I stared blankly at the screen, lost in the haze of memories. Jake’s laughter echoed faintly in my mind, along with his vivid stories about the beaches—moments that now felt painfully distant. Had there been any signs? None came to mind. The idea of him leading a separate life, hidden beneath the one we shared, sent a chill through me. I needed answers, and it was time to find them.
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