The next morning I drove to the bank before my husband even woke up.
I kept telling myself there had to be some normal explanation. Maybe an old account. Maybe money he forgot about.
But the woman at the desk looked at me strangely the second I mentioned the account number.
Then she asked, “You’re his wife?”
I said yes.
She hesitated for a second and quietly told me the account had another authorized user.
A woman.
Not me.
I honestly felt sick right there in the chair.
When I asked for the name, she said she couldn’t legally tell me.
But she didn’t need to.
Because a few minutes later, the woman walked into the bank herself.
And my husband’s face was on the lock screen of her phone.
