AFTER 30 YEARS OF MARRIAGE, I FOUND OUT MY HUSBAND AND THE NEIGHBOR SHARE MORE THAN JUST A FENCE

Thirty years. That’s how long we’ve been married. Through house renovations, job layoffs, raising two kids, and a brief attempt at backyard chickens. We’ve seen each other through it all.

Or so I thought.

Our neighbor, Elise, moved in two years ago after her divorce. She was quiet at first, kept to herself. Then slowly, she and my husband, Theo, got friendly—harmless stuff. Lending tools. Chatting over the fence. A few inside jokes I didn’t quite understand.

I never questioned it. Not until I started noticing how often Theo found excuses to be in the backyard when she was. Or how he’d take out the trash right when she pulled into her driveway. One time, I caught a glimpse of them laughing over something on her phone, standing a little too close.

Still, I told myself I was overthinking it. After all, I’ve known this man for three decades.

Then last week, I was looking for a document in Theo’s filing cabinet. The top drawer stuck, so I gave it a tug—and a small envelope slipped down behind it.

It wasn’t addressed. Just folded once and sealed.

I opened it.

Inside was a handwritten note. The kind people don’t write anymore. Messy penmanship, soft paper, and the words:

“No one knows. They think it’s just a fence between us.”

I stood there holding it, heart pounding, when I noticed the return address scribbled faintly on the corner.

It was Elise’s.

And this morning, when I walked out to get the mail, I caught them again—just for a second—standing too close on her side of the fence.

She was holding the same 👇

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