My heart pounded harder, and nausea rose through my body. What had I just stumbled upon?
I excused myself from the table, my heart pounding in my chest as I climbed the stairs. What could possibly be under the bed?
My mind raced, thinking of all the mundane things that could be there. I mean, really? A suitcase, dust bunnies, Camille’s shoes, or a secret stash of chocolate?
But nothing could have prepared me for what I found.
I bent down and pulled out a small black box. As I opened it, my hands trembled.
Inside, there were photos, dozens of them. Camille, nearly naked, posing for someone else’s eyes. Under the photos were letters, neatly folded and addressed to a man named Benoit.
I rifled through them, reading enough to piece together what had been happening right under my nose. Camille had been having an affair.
My heart pounded harder, and nausea rose through my body. What had I just stumbled upon?
As the truth sank in, everything went black.
When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed, the bright fluorescent lights blinding me. The sterile smell of disinfectant hit my nose, and I realized I wasn’t at home anymore. My throat was dry, and I tried to speak, but only a croak came out.
“You passed out in your bedroom, mate,” Nolan said from the chair next to my bed, his head propped up by his hand.
“What happened, Chad? What did you find there?” he asked.
It all came flooding back in a flash. And for a moment, I almost felt light-headed all over again.
The black box, the photos, the letters, the betrayal…
What on earth was Cami playing at? Who was this woman that I married? Who was this stranger in her place?
“You were taking forever, so I came up to check on you,” Nolan continued. “I found you passed out cold, and then I saw the box. And the contents of the box… Look, I just put everything back inside and shoved it back under the bed and called Camille. While she was checking you out, I called the ambulance.”
“How did you know?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “She did it so well. I never suspected a thing.”
“I overheard them,” Nolan said. “While we were eating, I picked up on something your wife said in French. It was something about how she had decided to hide everything under the bed. That’s why I told you to check.”
“And I did French throughout high school, Chad,” he continued. “I understood enough to know something was wrong. Something was shady about the way she said it. And her mother was almost excited by it all…”
It felt like the world was spinning around me, and I couldn’t catch my breath.
“Where’s Camille?” I asked after a moment.
“She’s downstairs. She’s getting coffee or something,” Nolan said. “I told her that I’d wait here for you.”
I let out a low breath, my mind racing.
Honestly, what now? How was I supposed to confront Camille about all this? We had built a life together, and now it felt like it was crumbling before my eyes.
The next day, I was discharged, and Nolan drove me home. When I got in, Camille was waiting for us, looking highly concerned.
She immediately began fussing over me, making sure I had everything I needed: water, a juice made from organic fruit and vegetables, and even a platter of fresh fruit.
