PART 2

I left the forks beneath the mattress and tucked Alex into bed.

Then I stepped into the hallway and called Brandon.

“Why are there dozens of forks hidden beneath our son’s mattress?”

Silence filled the line.

“It’s only a game,” he finally answered.

“What kind of game?”

“I called it Treasure Knights. The forks are silver swords protecting the castle.”

“Then why did you make Alex promise not to tell me?”

“Cece, you’re making this bigger than it is.”

“No. You involved our five-year-old son in a secret and repeatedly lied when I asked about it.”

Brandon exhaled slowly.

“My overtime hours were reduced. I didn’t want you worrying about money, so I invented a game to distract Alex when I came home late.”

His explanation made no sense.

“How long have your hours been reduced?”

“A few weeks.”

“How many weeks?”

“Maybe two months. I’m tired, and I have an early shift. Can we discuss this when I return on Sunday?”

I wanted answers immediately, but there was something desperate in his voice.

“Fine. Sunday. But you are going to tell me everything.”

After ending the call, I stood alone in the hallway.

Then I entered our bedroom and searched Brandon’s side of the closet.

I did not know what I expected to find.

Behind a stack of jeans, beneath an old shoebox, I discovered a manila folder.

Inside were overdue bills, credit-card statements, a second phone, and a signed rental agreement for a studio apartment across town.

My stomach twisted.

I called my sister, Marion.

“I think Brandon is having an affair.”

She immediately became alert.

I told her about the missing forks, the secret game, the second phone, and the apartment.

“A hidden phone and a secret apartment?” she said. “You need to speak to a lawyer before confronting him.”

“He said his overtime had been reduced.”

“That is exactly the kind of excuse people use when they are hiding something.”

Her words made my fear worse.

After we ended the call, I sent Brandon a message.

“I found the phone and the apartment agreement. Don’t come home on Sunday. Don’t come home at all.”

He called almost immediately.

For seven years, I had never heard my husband cry.

But that night, his voice broke.

“Cece, please let me explain in person. It isn’t what you think.”

“Then tell me now.”

“I can’t do this over the phone.”

“You had plenty of opportunities to tell me the truth.”

“I love you and Alex more than anything. Please let me come home and explain.”

I ended the call and slid down the wall.

For once, I did not try to hide my crying.

A few minutes later, Alex’s bedroom door opened.

He walked toward me in his dinosaur pajamas, holding a fork like a tiny sword.

“Mommy, why are you sad?”

“I’m okay. Go back to bed.”

Instead, he sat beside me and placed the fork in my lap.

“You can have one.”

“I don’t need it, sweetheart.”

“Yes, you do. Daddy said the forks are so you won’t be alone if he has to go away.”

I stared at him.

“What did Daddy tell you?”

“He said every fork was a promise. If he couldn’t come home for a long time, the forks would remind us that he was still trying to come back.”

Alex lowered his head.

“He said you were supposed to have some too, but I forgot to give them to you.”

I pulled him into my arms.

Whatever Brandon was hiding, it was not the affair I had imagined.

I sent him another message.

“Come home Sunday. We will talk.”

For the next two days, my mind moved between anger, fear, and confusion.

Why would Brandon believe he might have to leave us?

Why had he rented an apartment?

And why had he asked our son to build a collection of promises beneath his mattress?