I hated that I was doing this. But I had absolutely no choice.
Then I went to bed and lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, telling myself I'd have answers by morning.
***
At dawn, I pulled up the footage on my laptop while the coffee brewed, expecting to see one of my kids creeping down the hallway in the dark.
What I saw instead made me set the mug down so hard that coffee splashed across the counter.It wasn't the kids. It was Peter.
I had absolutely no choice.
He'd checked the kids' doors before moving quietly to my purse. He opened my wallet, pulled out a fold of bills, and tucked them into his jacket pocket without a moment's hesitation.
Then he grabbed his keys off the hook and walked out the front door like he owned every second of it.
The timestamp read 2:07 a.m. My husband had been sneaking out of our home in the dead of night, and I'd been sleeping right through it.
I rewound it. Watched it again and again, as if repetition might turn Peter back into someone else.
My mind went to all the worst places — gambling debts, a second phone, and a motel room somewhere across town.
My husband had been sneaking out of our home in the dead of night.
