For 18 years, Adam and I had built a life together—two kids, a house, the usual ups and downs of marriage. He had always left school drop-offs to me, grumbling about morning traffic and how he wasn’t a “morning person.”

So when, two months ago, he suddenly volunteered to take our 10-year-old daughter, Ellie, to school every morning, I was surprised.

“I just want to spend more time with her before she grows up,” he said.

It was sweet. I was touched.

Then, last Tuesday, Ellie casually dropped a bomb.

“Dad always stops somewhere before school. He leaves for 10 minutes.”

A chill ran through me.

I kept my face neutral. “Oh? Where does he go?”

She shrugged. “I dunno. Just says ‘Wait here, kiddo’ and leaves.”

Something was off.

The next morning, I decided to follow him. I stayed a few cars behind, watching as he drove past Ellie’s school and pulled into an empty parking lot behind a strip mall.

My heart pounded as he got out, glanced around, and walked toward a sleek black car. The passenger door opened.

A woman stepped out.

Tall. Blonde. Smiling.

Adam leaned in close. Too close.

Then she reached into her bag… and handed him something small.

He took it, nodded, and slipped it into his pocket.

My breath hitched. My stomach twisted.

What was I seeing? A deal? An affair? My mind spun.

I gripped my phone, snapped a picture, and drove away.

That night, I placed his dinner on the table and casually asked, “How was drop-off?”

“Same as always,” he said, cutting his steak.

I smiled. “No detours?”

He paused. Just for a second.

My heart hammered.

Then he laughed. “Of course not. Why?”

I took a breath, reached into my pocket, and slid my phone across the table. The picture glowed on the screen.

His face drained of color.

“Try again, Adam,” I said, my voice like ice. “What exactly have you been doing every morning?”