My husband Henry always left for work in his shiny SUV, dressed sharply in his business attire, ready to take on another day. For ten years, this routine was a constant in my life—something I never questioned. I thought I knew every little detail about Henry, from how he liked his coffee to how he hummed in the shower. But all of that changed the day I saw him switching cars halfway through his day, abandoning his pristine SUV for a rusty old Mustang. It was the moment I realized something was off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.
It all started on an ordinary Tuesday. I was at home folding laundry when my phone rang unexpectedly.
“Mrs. Diana? This is Jessica from Dr. Khan’s office. I’m calling to confirm your appointment for this afternoon,” the voice on the other end said.
I balanced the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued folding my son’s tiny superhero socks. “Yes, that’s right—2 p.m.,” I confirmed.
There was a brief pause, then she added, “Dr. Khan mentioned there’s a specific detail about your husband she’d like to discuss. She said it’s important.”
My hands froze. “I’m sorry, what about my husband?”
“That’s all she said, Mrs. Diana. Will you
