“We’re all at school. Are you okay? You sound weird.”
My heart started racing.
“I’m fine, sweetie. Just… checking something.”
“Mom,” he hesitated, “is everything okay with you and Dad? We’ve noticed you guys fighting more.”
“Everything’s fine,” I lied, my voice cracking.
“Just adult stuff. Don’t worry about it. Okay.
Thanks, sweetie. Love you.”
After I hung up, the realization hit me like a brick: Someone else was in my house. With Justin.
But who?
My brain immediately went to the worst place. WAS IT HIS MISTRESS?
I tried to call Justin, but when he picked up, his response was the same as always: “It’s the kids, Nicole. Stop overthinking it.”
“Stop lying to me!” I screamed into the phone, my hands shaking.
“I just talked to them — they’re at school!”
There was a long pause. “I have to go,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Justin, don’t you dare hang up —” The line went dead.
But now, I couldn’t ignore it.
Someone was sneaking into my house, using the scale, and Justin was covering it up. I needed to figure out who.
The next night, after I got home, I sat down and combed through every notification on the app. That’s when I noticed the pattern: Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday.
Always at 1:50 p.m.
The next day was Thursday. And I knew exactly what I had to do.
I left work early, parked my car down the street, and waited. My heart pounded as the clock ticked closer to 1:50 p.m.
“Please let me be wrong,” I whispered, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
“Please, please let me be wrong.”
At exactly 1:50 p.m., I got the message. And at 1:53 p.m., I saw someone walking out of my house.
From behind, they looked like a woman — lean, with a long ponytail swinging back and forth. But then they turned, and I FROZE.
It wasn’t a woman. It was a MAN.
My mind raced with possibilities, each worse than the last. Was Justin living some kind of double life?
Furious, I jumped out of the car and marched toward him.
“HEY!” I shouted. “WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!”
He turned, startled. “Oh, uh… you must be Nicole.
Justin’s wife.”
My stomach twisted. “What? Who are you?
And why do you have keys to my house?”
He raised his hands like I was about to arrest him. “I guess Justin didn’t tell you about us,” he said sheepishly. “Please don’t judge him!
He was too embarrassed to talk about it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped. “What US?!”
“I’m Derek,” he said quickly. “Justin’s old college friend.
He called me a couple of weeks ago. He’s been worried about his weight and getting out of shape. I’m a personal trainer and sports masseur.”
My head spun.
“You’re… his TRAINER?”
“Yeah, I —” Derek started, but I cut him off.
“No, stop. Just stop.” I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to make sense of it all. “You expect me to believe that my husband, who’s been acting like he’s having an affair, gave you keys to our house for… FITNESS TRAINING?”
Derek nodded, looking genuinely apologetic.
“Justin didn’t want you to know because he was embarrassed about gaining weight. And the keys… look, after each session, I give him a massage to help with muscle recovery. He has to lie still for about ten to 30 minutes afterward, so he asked me to lock up when I leave.
That’s why he gave me the spare keys. I’m really sorry for the confusion.”
He hesitated before adding, “I know how this looks, but Justin’s been going through a lot. When he lost his job —”
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded.
All the sneaking around, all the gaslighting… over personal training? My husband had been fired six months ago and must’ve felt so uneasy about himself. And I didn’t even notice how he’d been depressed and how he’d gained weight.
So that’s why he bought the digital scale.
I felt guilty for not noticing how much he’d been struggling, but at the same time, I was upset that he’d kept something so big from me.
When I walked into the house ten minutes later, Justin acted completely normal, like nothing had happened. “Hey,” he said casually, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You’re back?!
I was just about to jump in the shower.”
I didn’t say a word, just nodded and watched him walk upstairs. My thoughts were racing, but I waited. When he came back downstairs after his shower, I was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, waiting for him.
“So,” I began, arms crossed, “how long have you been hiding Derek from me?”
His face turned pale.
“You… met Derek?”
“Yeah, Justin. I met Derek. The guy with a ponytail who’s been sneaking into our house three times a week.
Care to explain?”
“Nicole, I can explain everything —”
“Can you?” I interrupted, my voice shaking. “Because Derek already did. About the training sessions.”
The color drained from his face as he sighed, collapsing onto the couch.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he admitted. “I’ve been feeling terrible since I lost my job. I gained weight, and I just… I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”
“Laugh at you?
Justin, I thought you were CHEATING on me! You lied, gave someone keys to our house, and made me feel like I was crazy!”
“I know,” he said quietly, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” I choked out. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat.
I kept imagining the worst possible scenarios!”
“I was ashamed,” he sobbed. “I failed you. Failed our family.
I thought if I could just get back in shape, find a new job… maybe I could be worthy of you again.”
I stared at him, my anger softening just a little. “Justin, I’m your wife. You don’t have to hide things from me.
But you sure as hell don’t get to gaslight me either.”
The next day, I decided to convey an unforgettable message to Justin.
The house was packed with friends and family when he got home from his evening walk. Balloons shaped like dumbbells hung from the ceiling, and a giant “Justin’s Fitness Journey” banner stretched across the living room along with his “before and after” photos.
“What… what is this?” he stammered, looking around in horror.
“A party!” I said brightly. “To celebrate your hard work.
Since you went to such great lengths to hide it, I thought it deserved some extra attention.”
His face turned red as everyone clapped and cheered.
“Nicole,” he whispered, pulling me aside, “I don’t deserve this. After everything I put you through…”
“You’re right,” I said firmly. “You don’t deserve it.
But you know what you do deserve? Support. Love.
Understanding. All the things you were too afraid to ask for.”
“I promise,” he said, his voice cracking, “no more secrets. No more lies.”
“Good,” I smiled, squeezing his hand.
“Because I already changed the locks.”
As the party continued, I leaned over and whispered, “Next time, just tell me the truth. It’s a lot easier than this.”
He nodded, squeezing my hand back. “Next time,” he promised, “we face everything together.”
Source: amomama
