The day my son introduced his girlfriend to me should have been a joyous occasion. I had prepared a lovely dinner, lit a few candles to set the mood, and made sure everything was perfect. My husband was away on a business trip, so it was just the three of us. I was eager to get to know the girl who had stolen my son’s heart. And she was wonderful. Polite, sweet, engaging. She asked about my cooking, complimented our home, and laughed at all the right moments. Everything was going well. Until she looked at the framed photo on the shelf.
Her entire expression changed in an instant. It was subtle, but I caught it—a flicker of shock, a tightening of her lips, a sudden stiffness in her posture. It was like she had seen a ghost. My heart skipped a beat as I followed her gaze to the photograph. A picture of my husband, standing in front of our favorite vacation spot, grinning with his arm around me.

She hesitated. Then, she looked at me, her eyes filled with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, maybe. “I… I’m so sorry,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to tell you something. I know this man.”
I blinked, my pulse quickening. “You know him?”

She swallowed hard, as if she were about to deliver a painful truth. “Yeah. He’s my aunt’s boyfriend. I’ve seen him at family gatherings.”
The world around me seemed to tilt. “You must be mistaken,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “My husband travels a lot, but we’ve been married for twenty-two years. He’s not—”
“I’m not mistaken,” she interrupted, her voice steady, firm. “I’ve had dinner with him. He’s been at my aunt’s house more than once.”