I always thought Ethan was working late, putting in long hours so we’d be ready to start a family once we were financially stable. That’s why I didn’t think twice when a toothbrush slipped from his suit pocket one morning. My heart skidded—did it mean he was brushing his teeth at someone else’s home?
My mind raced. Desperate for truth, I followed him one evening after he said he’d be late again. No office. No hotel. Instead, I found myself staring at a small house with green shutters and a bird feeder. He unlocked the door and slipped inside.
I crept to a cracked window—and what I overheard turned my world upside down. Ethan wasn’t cheating. He was … adjusting the shower’s temperature. For our daughter, who’d just returned home from the hospital and his workplace without saying a word.
My anger collapsed into tears. I had broken into his safety zone, scared him, and nearly ruined everything. The toothbrush wasn’t about betrayal. It was a symbol of his quiet love—the small things he did so I didn’t notice his good intentions.
