When my five-year-old mentioned visiting \u201cDaddy\u2019s other kids\u201d at the \u201csecret house,\u201d my heart stopped. I thought I knew my husband completely, but what I discovered left me speechless. I never thought my husband could do something like this.<\/p>\n
It was a Tuesday.<\/p>\n
Just a regular Tuesday that started like every other day in our quiet suburban life.<\/p>\n
I picked up my son Tim from kindergarten, and he was his usual bubbly self.<\/p>\n
His cheeks were smudged with glitter glue, and he was proudly holding up a floppy paper plate turtle with googly eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, Mommy!\u201d he beamed, holding it up like it belonged in the Louvre.<\/p>\n
I smiled, crouching down to his level. \u201cWow, buddy. That is absolutely amazing.<\/p>\n
Is it a ninja turtle?\u201d<\/p>\n
No,\u201d he giggled. \u201cIt\u2019s just Turtle. He doesn\u2019t fight anybody.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s really slow, but he\u2019s nice.\u201d<\/p>\n
I buckled him into his car seat and handed him his afternoon juice pouch. He stabbed the straw in with the dramatic flair of a tiny samurai, took a long sip, and then casually said the sentence that completely upended my world.<\/p>\n
\u201cMommy, can we go to the playground near Daddy\u2019s other house again? I miss his other kids.\u201d<\/p>\n
Daddy\u2019s other house?<\/p>\n
His other kids?<\/p>\n
For a moment, I thought I\u2019d misheard him.<\/p>\n
I forced myself to laugh, because what else do you do in such situations?<\/p>\n
\u201cWhose kids, sweetheart?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
He shrugged like it was the most obvious thing in the world. \u201cDaddy\u2019s other kids! The ones who call him \u2018Dad\u2019 too!<\/p>\n
They had juice boxes and a bouncy couch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen did you meet them?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen you were in the airplane on your work trip. Daddy said it was a secret house.\u201d<\/p>\n
The airplane.<\/p>\n
My last work trip.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been gone for three days at a tech conference in Austin, presenting our new software to potential clients. Jake had volunteered to handle everything at home, insisting he had it covered.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean it\u2019s a secret house?\u201d I asked, my heart hammering so loud I was sure Tim could hear it.<\/p>\n
He leaned forward in his car seat, lowering his voice like he was letting me in on the world\u2019s biggest conspiracy.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy said not to tell you \u2019cause it\u2019s just for fun times.<\/p>\n
The kids there have balloons everywhere, and the TV is so big it takes up the whole wall.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t say another word for the rest of the drive home. I couldn\u2019t. My throat had completely locked itself shut, and my mind was racing through every horrible possibility I could imagine.<\/p>\n
The story doesn\u2019t end here \u2014 it continues on the next page.<\/p>\n
Other kids calling Jake \u201cDad.\u201d A secret house.<\/p>\n
Instructions not to tell Mommy.<\/p>\n
When we pulled into our driveway, our house looked exactly the same as always. But everything felt different now, like I was seeing it all through cracked glass.<\/p>\n
That night, after bath time and our usual bedtime routine, Tim fell asleep surrounded by his army of stuffed animals. I sat on the edge of our bed, staring at his little blue tablet that we\u2019d given him for educational games.<\/p>\n
The GPS app glowed in my trembling hands.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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