Sarah and David. Together forever. June 10, 2009.
Sarah? Who’s Sarah? And David? Is that the boy’s name? But what does John have to do with this? Why did he hide this photo? I put the photo back in the box and grabbed the USB drive. Now I wanted to know even more about what was inside. But for that, I needed a computer.
I left the cactus and the soil scattered on the floor and hurried to the living room, where our laptop was. My hands were shaking a little as I turned it on and inserted the USB drive. A window with the USB drive’s contents appeared on the screen.
Several folders with incomprehensible names. Numbers, letters, no clue as to their contents. I opened the first folder.
Inside were PDF documents. I clicked on the first one, and a scanned passport appeared on the screen. Neither mine nor John’s.
The passport was issued in the name of David Miller. Date of birth: June 10, 2009.
The same day as indicated in the photo. The next document was the birth certificate of this same David. Mother.
Sarah Miller. And the father’s name paralyzed me. Father…
John Anderson. My husband. My vision went dark; the room blurred before my eyes.
How is this possible? John has a son. A son he never told me about. And a wife.
This Sarah, who is she to him? I mechanically opened other documents. Marriage certificate between John Anderson and Sarah Miller, dated May 15, 2009.
A contract for the sale of an apartment in both names. Insurance policy for all three of them: John, Sarah, and their son, David.
It was like a punch in the gut. Is John married? Does he have another family? A child? But how is this possible? After all, we’ve been married for six years. I frantically compared the dates.
We married Sarah in May 2009. And John in September 2017. It turns out he was already married when we got married? All these years!
Who? A mistress? A second wife? A person without official status. My head was spinning from the amount of information and emotions overwhelming me. But I forced myself to keep studying the contents of the USB drive.
In the next folder, I found photographs. Dozens, hundreds of photographs. And she was in every one of them.
Sarah. Sometimes alone, sometimes with the child, sometimes. With John.
Here are the three of them on the beach. Here celebrating a birthday. Here on Christmas morning at kindergarten, proud parents filming their son’s performance.
Ordinary family photos. Just like the ones John and I have. Only in these, another woman was in my place.
I didn’t know what to think. How did John manage to live a double life? How did he manage to divide his time between two families? And most importantly, why did he do it? In the third folder, I found videos. I clicked on the first file, and John’s face appeared on the screen.
He was looking directly into the camera, a certain vigilance in his gaze. “If you’re watching this video, Sarah, it means something went wrong,” he began. “I want you to know that.”
I love you and Davey more than anything in the world. Everything I do, I do for you. If anything happens to me, I have all the necessary documents in the box.
Bank accounts, real estate, insurance. Everything is in your name and our son’s name. You’ll be safe.
I promise.” The video ended, and I continued staring at the screen, not believing what I was seeing or hearing. I love more than anything in the world.
And what about me? Where do I fit into this picture of the world? I opened a few more videos. Some showed ordinary family moments. The child’s birthday, some trips, get-togethers at home.
In others, John addressed the camera again, talking about some love affairs, potential danger, and the need to be careful. He spoke incoherently, dropping hints, clearly afraid to call a spade a spade. I scrolled to the end of the folder and found a video from last month.
Just a few weeks ago. In it, John was standing in a room that looked like a hotel room. “Sarah, I’ll be delayed in Miami for a couple more days,” he said.
Things aren’t going as well as I’d like. Give Davey a kiss for me and tell him Dad will be back soon. To Miami.
But John told me he was going to Chicago for a meeting with partners. He lied to me. However, after everything I’d seen, this deception seemed insignificant.
I closed the video and leaned back in my chair. Absolute chaos reigned in my head. I couldn’t accept that the man I had lived with for six years, whom I trusted, whom I loved, had been leading a double life all this time.
He was the husband of two women, the father of a child whose existence I didn’t even suspect. How is this possible? How did he manage to divide his time between us? I tried to remember how often John was away from home. Business trips.
He traveled constantly on business. Sometimes for a few days, sometimes for a week, and sometimes for a month. I never questioned the necessity of these trips.
His job required frequent travel, and I assumed it was normal. And now it turns out these business trips. Or at least some of them.
Were nothing more than shared time with the other family. This thought was so far-fetched, so unbelievable, that I couldn’t accept it. I opened the folder with the documents again and began to methodically go through them.
Maybe I misunderstood something. Maybe there was another explanation. But the more documents I reviewed, the clearer the picture became.
John had another family I knew nothing about. Among the documents, I found a lease for an apartment in Boston. The apartment was rented to Sarah Miller, even before my wedding to John.
And judging by the renewal dates, she was still living there. In Boston? Just a few hours’ drive from our city. I felt nausea rising in my throat.
I needed fresh air. I shut down my computer, took out the USB drive, and walked over to the window. I opened it wide and took several deep breaths, trying to calm myself.
What should I do now? How should I react to such a discovery? My first impulse was to immediately call John and demand an explanation. But I held back. In that state, it was unlikely I could have a constructive dialogue.
Besides, maybe it would be better to find out for myself first, gather as much information as possible before confronting him. My gaze fell on the clock. Almost noon.
I’d spent several hours in front of the computer, unaware of how time was passing. My stomach growled treacherously, reminding me that I hadn’t had breakfast yet. But the thought of eating disgusted me.
How can I think about food when my life has been shattered, like that unfortunate cactus pot? The pot. I’d completely forgotten about it. The soil was still scattered across the bedroom floor, and the poor cactus was lying on its side.
I needed to clean everything up, but I didn’t have the strength. Instead, I went back to the computer and inserted the USB drive. This time I decided to carefully examine all the files, all the documents, to get a complete picture.
Among other things, I found bank statements. The accounts were opened in Sarah Miller’s name, but the regular deposits came from John’s card. The amounts were quite significant…
About the same as his monthly earnings. It turns out that all these years he split his income between two families. But he always said he didn’t earn as much as he’d liked.
We saved, set aside for the future, and denied each other some things. But in fact, he only gave half of his income to another woman and their son. I tried to remember when I first noticed something odd about John’s behavior.
But nothing specific came to mind. He had always been a loving husband, calling me from business trips, bringing me gifts, and taking an interest in my affairs. Yes, lately he had become more withdrawn, sometimes distracted, but I attributed it to fatigue and work problems. How blind I was!
How I didn’t notice the obvious signs. Now, looking back, I remember a lot of details that should have alerted me. His strange calls, which he preferred not to make from home, but on the street or in the car.
