For the past two months, my husband, Jake, had been leaving every Sunday to “help his brother repair his car”. He always took his toolbox, put on an old T-shirt and left at about 9 a.m. He returned late, exhausted and covered with dust.

At first, I did not ask any questions. Jake was always the guy who helped. And his brother, Mike, wasn’t really an expert on the automobile.

But as the weeks turned into months, the malaise began to be felt. Two months of Sunday devoted to car repairs seemed… excessive. How badly could Mike’s car break down?

I started to wonder if I was not naive, but I acted casually the first time I questioned what they were doing.

“It’s the third Sunday in a row, Jake,” I said once, trying to keep a light tone while he was catching his keys. “How long does it take exactly to fix a car?” And what exactly does she have? ”

He just gave me that tired little laugh, this familiar fold forming at the corner of his eyes. “Don’t worry about that, baby. It’s just that the car ages and needs a lot of work to make sure it keeps driving. You can’t imagine the mess that is under the hood,” he replied before heading for the exit.

It was then that I began to notice certain things. Jake never took any new car parts with him. Not once. And he could never indicate the specific repairs he made. It was always “the car.”

Something was not sticking. Yes, Jake wasn’t the type to lie. But how could I be sure?

Last Sunday, everything changed. I met Sarah, Mike’s wife, at the grocery store. We were on the fruit and vegetable shelf when we clashed with each other.

“Hey, Emily. I’m glad to see you,” she told me.

We chatted a little bit, catching up with the usual things. Then Sarah said, “Hey, before I forget. Could you perhaps send Jake later? The lights in our hallway still make his own, and the last time Mike tried to fix them, he almost electrocuted himself. ”

I laughed. “Isn’t he here right now?” I asked, when I frowned. “I mean he could take a look at your lights while they take breaks to work on Mike’s car. ”

Sarah looked at me. His friendly smile faded, replaced by a frown of confused eyebrows. “Mike’s car is fine,” she said slowly, with her forehead folded. “What are you talking about?” Jake did not come for a long time. ”

My eyes were wide-ranging when his words were recorded. It was confirmation that Jake had been lying to me from the beginning.

Sarah immediately noticed my distress. “Emaily, are you all right?” What did Jake tell you? ‘ she asks, touching my shoulder.’

“He… he told me he was at your house every Sunday, to help Mike with the car,” I stammered, looking closely at Sarah’s face. It was clear, without any allusion to any secret, which meant that it was just as confused as I was.

“It makes no sense,” Sarah continues, shaking her head. “Let me call Mike. ”

“No, wait,” I prevented her from catching his phone. “He’s probably going to cover up Jake. ”

I bite my lip and I thought about my options while fixing nothing around the store. Finally, an idea arose in my head. “Next Sunday, Jake will leave as usual, so I’ll follow him.”

“I’m going with you,” she proposed, and I couldn’t say no. Perhaps I would need that support.

The following week took place at a slow pace, but Sunday finally arrived. I tried to act normally by preparing breakfast and discussing his work with Jake.

An hour later, I watched him do his usual routine: toolbox, old T-shirt, casual it “Last, baby. “

As soon as his car got off the aisle, I called Sarah. “He left,” I said when she answered, heading to my front windows and glanced through the blinds.