My husband’s Apple Watch lit up beside the fruit bowl with four words that instantly changed the feeling of an ordinary morning: “Last night was perfect.” Cameron had told me he was working late the night before, and after nine years of marriage, I had never felt the need to search through his phone or question his honesty. But seeing that message left a strange feeling in my chest. When he kissed my forehead and casually mentioned he might have another late night, I stayed quiet. Instead of confronting him, I decided to find out what was really happening.
After breakfast, I followed Cameron from a distance, keeping several cars between us. I expected to discover something painful, something that would explain the secretive behavior. Instead, I watched him stop at a florist and buy a single white rose. Then he picked up a navy garment bag from a tailor before driving to the Oakridge Community Center, where a ballroom social was being held. Confused, I followed him inside and looked through a hallway window.
