I believed her.
Now I looked at the photograph again.
Jason was standing beside Lauren.
And sitting on his shoulders, laughing at the camera, was my daughter.
Sophie.
Five years old at the time.
Caleb, then barely four, stood in front of Lauren holding an ice cream cone.
My lungs forgot how to breathe.
The photograph wasn’t just proof of an affair.
It was proof that my children had been brought into it.
Lauren had not simply spent our anniversary with another man.
She had taken our children with her.
I stared at the screen.
Lauren was still standing several feet away.
“What is it?”
I looked at her.
She saw something in my face.
“Ethan?”
I turned the phone toward her.
For a second, she didn’t understand.
Then she did.
All the color left her face.
“Where did you get that?”
I felt something cold settle through me.
Not rage.
Something worse.
Recognition.
“You know the picture.”
Lauren’s mouth opened.
I said:
“You told me your mother was sick.”
She stared at Sophie on Jason’s shoulders.
“Ethan, I can explain.”
“Our anniversary.”
“I know.”
“You took our children to see him on our anniversary.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“What was it like?”
She started crying again.
“They thought he was a friend from work.”
I laughed once.
It sounded terrible.
“They thought?”
Lauren wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
“Please come inside.”
“No.”
“The neighbors can hear.”
I stared at her.
That was the first thing she thought of.
The neighbors.
I got into my truck.
Lauren reached the open door before I could close it.
“Please don’t show that to the kids.”
I looked at her.
“I would never do that.”
She flinched.
The implication landed.
I closed the door.
Then drove away.
I didn’t go to Natalie’s immediately.
I drove three blocks and pulled into an empty church parking lot because my hands were shaking too badly to keep driving.
I called Rachel.
She answered before the first full ring.
“Ethan?”
“Yes.”
Her voice cracked.
“I’m sorry.”
“How did you get the photograph?”
There was a pause.
“I found an old cloud backup.”
“Jason’s?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why tonight?”
“Because he told me he had an emergency work dinner.”
Of course.
Rachel continued.
“I didn’t believe him.”
“How long have you suspected?”
“About four months.”
“Only four?”
“I thought it started four months ago.”
“So did I.”
We sat in silence together, two strangers discovering the same thing from opposite sides.
Then Rachel said:
“There are more.”
My stomach tightened.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.”
She started crying.
“There are pictures going back almost two years.”
I looked at the church through my windshield.
The parking lot lights blurred.
“Do the kids appear in more?”
“Yes.”