I discovered the phone entirely by accident, three months back. It was a day like any other, except for the frustrating fact that one of my earrings had gone missing. In a fit of determination, I decided to search every nook and cranny of my husband’s car, hoping it might have fallen off there. I sifted through the glove compartment, under the mats, and between the seats.
But it wasn’t until I stretched my arm beneath his car seat, expecting to maybe feel the cool metal of my earring, that my fingers brushed against something entirely unexpected. There, hidden in the shadows, was a phone. Not his usual one, which was almost always glued to his hand or charging on our kitchen counter, but another one, a secret one.
At first, I thought perhaps it was an old device he’d forgotten about, but curiosity got the better of me. My heart was pounding in my chest as I powered it on, using the passcode I knew all too well from his regular phone. To my utter shock and dismay, it opened to a world I never knew existed.
There were text messages, endless conversations filled with words of affection, and photos. Photos of her, photos of them together, looking happy, looking like a couple deeply in love. They exchanged “I love you’s” with the ease of people who truly meant it, each message a dagger to my heart.