For the past six months, my husband Jerry had been completely consumed by his new project. But yesterday, we finally managed to take a vacation. He tried to postpone it, claiming the timing wasn’t right, but I insisted—we had already booked everything, from plane tickets to hotel rooms. The trip was happening.
Once we boarded the plane, I quickly dozed off, resting my head on Jerry’s shoulder. But when I opened my eyes sometime later, I realized I was leaning against a stranger. I jerked upright, ready to apologize—or scream—when he leaned in and whispered:
HIM: “Please stay quiet. We don’t have much time. I saw you both at the airport, and I think you should know something. When your husband returns in a few minutes, act normal.”
ME: “What are you talking about? Who are you?”
HIM: “Just listen. I overheard something—by accident.”
I blinked, confused and groggy. The man looked to be in his mid-thirties, dressed simply in a gray hoodie. He wasn’t anyone who would normally stand out—but his eyes were intense. Urgent. Almost pleading.
ME: “Overheard what?”
HIM: “A conversation your husband had. With a woman. He called her Lena. They met near the duty-free shop. I heard him say, ‘Once I finalize the deal overseas, we’ll have everything we need. She won’t suspect a thing.’”
My heart skipped a beat.
Lena.
Jerry had mentioned that name once before—a so-called colleague from a past business trip. I hadn’t thought twice about it. Until now.
Before I could ask another question, Jerry returned from the restroom, drying his hands on a napkin. The stranger immediately leaned back in his seat and turned toward the in-flight movie. I sat up straight, trying to calm my racing mind.
Jerry smiled casually, oblivious. “You were out cold,” he joked, placing a hand on my knee.
I forced a laugh. “Yeah, I guess I was more tired than I thought.”
The rest of the flight passed in a haze. My thoughts kept spiraling. Who was that man? Was he lying? Or had he just exposed something I was never meant to know?
When we landed, I scanned the crowd for the stranger. He was gone.
Our destination was Santorini—a romantic escape Jerry had said would help us “reset.” He played the part of the perfect husband: planning candlelit dinners, spa appointments, even a private sunset cruise. But everything now felt like a performance. Behind every gesture, I heard the stranger’s words echoing in my head.
Two days in, I cracked.
Over dinner, I casually asked, “Hey… whatever happened to that coworker Lena? Haven’t heard you mention her in a while.”
Jerry froze—just for a second. Barely perceptible, but I noticed.
“Oh, Lena? She left the company a while ago. Moved to Berlin, I think,” he replied smoothly.
I nodded and smiled, pretending to accept the answer. But something didn’t sit right.
That night, after Jerry fell asleep, I quietly went through his suitcase. At first, everything seemed normal—until I found a second phone, tucked inside one of his shoes.
My hands shook as I turned it on. It wasn’t locked.
