I pulled down the first journal and opened it.
But Susan's words were echoing: "Two. A boy and a girl."
I pulled down the first journal and opened it.
The first entry was a week after our wedding. He wrote about our terrible honeymoon motel. The broken air conditioner. My laugh.
I flipped through the pages.
Page after page about us.
He wrote about our first fertility appointment. Me crying in the car.
He wrote, "I wish I could trade bodies with her and take this pain."
I went to the next journal. Then the next. Page after page about us. About our fights. Our inside jokes. My migraines. His fear of flying. Holidays. Bills.
No mention of another woman.
No secret kids. No double life.
The writing got darker.
By the time I reached the sixth journal, my eyes burned.
Halfway through, the tone changed. The writing got darker.
He wrote: "Susan pushing again. Wants us locked in for three years. Quality slipping. Last shipment bad. People got sick."
Next entry: "Told her we're done. She lost it. Said I was ruining her business."
Next: "Could sue. Lawyer says we'd win. But she has 2 kids. Don't want to take food off their table."
