Shadows of the Past

I never considered myself insecure. I always trusted—until the day I caught my husband talking to his ex. I found out by accident. His phone lit up on the counter, and her name was there. My stomach dropped. “Why is she texting you?” I asked, trying to stay calm. He hesitated. “It’s nothing. Just catching up.”

Catching up. That’s what he called it. Everything changed after that. I never used to check his phone or question his late-night messages. But now, every glance, every smile at his screen made my heart race. When I asked to see his phone, he refused. “If you trusted me, you wouldn’t need to check,” he said. I wanted to trust him. But how could I, when he was hiding things?

One night, I finally admitted, “I don’t want to feel like this.”

“Then stop,” he sighed.

“It’s not that easy.”

He insisted he wasn’t doing anything wrong. “So why won’t you show me your phone?” I asked.

“Because I shouldn’t have to prove my innocence every time you get suspicious.”

That night, I lay awake, torn between doubt and trust.

The next morning, over coffee, I made my choice. “I need honesty—not just words. If there’s nothing to hide, prove it.”

He hesitated, then exhaled. “And if I don’t?”

“Then I have my answer.”

A long silence. Then, finally, he reached for his phone. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was everything. But at least now, I would know.