My husband was at work when my father-in-law pulled me aside and told me he needed to show me something in the bathroom. When I entered, tile and cement were scattered on the floor and a plastic bag lay among the debris.
We were alone at home. My husband had left for work and I was doing chores when a rough hand settled on my shoulder.
“Where’s your husband?” a hoarse voice asked from behind me. I spun around to find my father-in-law standing there, pale and trembling. “At work,” I answered, bewildered.
“What’s wrong?”
“Go to the bathroom. I found something… I think it belongs to your husband.”
My stomach dropped. “He’s… cheating on me?” I murmured.
“No,” he said. “But you should see for yourself.”
I walked into the bathroom and stopped d3ad. The wall by the sink had been smashed; chunks of tile and plaster lay everywhere, and a clear plastic bag rested in the dust.
He wordlessly indicated the bag. I crouched, picked it up with shaking fingers, and unsealed it.
