My name’s Jonathan, and up until a few weeks ago, I thought I had everything figured out. I had a simple life, a loving wife named Mary, and our adorable little girl, Jazmin. Life was peaceful. Jazmin, with her mother’s dark eyes and my stubborn streak, was the center of our world. She could light up any room with her laughter.
Mary, my wife, was my rock. She wasn’t one for makeup, high heels, or flashy clothes. She was confident and comfortable in her own skin, and I loved that about her. The one pair of high heels she owned, she only wore twice in our six years of marriage. Mary would always say heels were too uncomfortable, and makeup wasn’t for her. I admired that she was real and never felt the need to dress up or be anything other than herself.
But lately, something felt off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something.
It all started when I came home from work one day, tired but eager to see my family. Jazmin was playing in the living room, her little feet awkwardly teetering around in Mary’s high heels. She was giggling and spinning in circles, clearly proud of herself. “I’m a princess like Mom!” she shouted, her voice full of joy. I smiled, scooping her up in my arms and giving her a kiss. “You’re the most beautiful princess in the world, Jazzy,” I said, but I couldn’t ignore the nagging thought in my head.
Mary never wore those heels, at least not when I was around. It didn’t make sense. Jazmin’s tiny fingers would even play with lipstick, smearing red streaks on her dolls’ faces, saying, “I look like Mommy!” But when was the last time I saw Mary put on makeup? She didn’t even wear lip balm often, so why was Jazmin suddenly obsessed with lipstick and high heels?
One night, I couldn’t take it any longer. As we sat down for dinner, I decided to ask Jazmin. I kept my tone light, trying not to let the worry show in my voice. “Hey, Jazzy,” I began, “you always say you look like Mommy, but I don’t remember her wearing heels.”
Her eyes widened with the certainty only a child could have. “She does, Daddy! Every day when you go to work.”
I felt a lump form in my throat. “What do you mean, every day?”
Jazmin nodded eagerly. “Mommy has lots of heels! She wears them when she drops me off at Aunt Lily’s house. I see her wearing red lipstick in the car, and then she leaves.”
At that moment, everything inside me stopped. My heart raced as I tried to make sense of her words. High heels? Lipstick? Dropping Jazmin off at Aunt Lily’s house? I was numb, unsure if what Jazmin was saying was true or if I was misunderstanding something.
“Are you sure, Jazzy?” I whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Yes, Daddy,” she replied, oblivious to the storm that was brewing inside me. “She looks pretty, but she only wears them when you’re not home.”
Before I could respond, Mary entered the room, smiling as she always did. But now, that smile felt like a mask. I tried to keep my voice steady. “We were just talking about princesses,” I said, my words feeling hollow.
The next morning, I decided to follow Mary. I lied about an early meeting and slipped out before she could notice. I parked down the street, just far enough to keep an eye on the house. My heart was racing, my mind was filled with questions, and I felt like an amateur detective in a bad movie.
At 8:30 a.m., Mary stepped out of the house. She was dressed casually, hair pulled back, no makeup—just like usual. She waved to Jazmin, who was watching from the window, and then walked to her car, carrying a tote bag. I waited for her to drive off before I followed, trying to stay hidden, my mind spinning with what Jazmin had said.
I followed her to Aunt Lily’s house, my pulse racing. Could it be that Mary was hiding something from me? Was I about to uncover a truth I wasn’t ready to face? My thoughts spiraled as I watched her pull into Aunt Lily’s driveway. I waited for a few minutes before slowly driving by, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was really going on.
What I saw next would shake my entire world.