I found my husband texting his coworker, and the sting of that moment stayed with me. Instead of exploding, I did something unexpected—I invited her, along with her husband and kids, over to our house. When I told my husband we were having guests, his face flushed instantly. As the kids ran off to play and the TV hummed in the background, a heavy, quiet tension settled in the room, like the air just before a storm.
But I didn’t confront anyone. I watched. I paid attention to the way they spoke, the tiny pauses, the energy between them. And slowly, I noticed something I hadn’t expected. The coworker was warm and respectful, completely appropriate. Her husband hovered close to her, clearly proud of their little family. My husband, meanwhile, sat stiffly, nervous but not flirtatious—just trapped in the weight of how things looked.
