I accused my husband of cheating on me. The words hung in the air between us, heavy and laden with the weight of my suspicion and pain. His eyes widened, a mixture of shock and hurt flashing across his face.
“How could you even think that?” he whispered, his voice trembling.
I felt a pang of doubt, but the late nights, the secretive texts, and the distant look in his eyes had built a wall of distrust I couldn’t ignore.
“I found the messages, Mark,” I said, my voice breaking. “From her.”
He took a step back, running a hand through his hair, his face pale. “It’s not what you think, Jenna. Please, let me explain.”
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