I didn’t scream. I didn’t call him. I just stood there in the laundry room, the hum of the washing machine filling the silence, and felt a cold, hard knot form in my stomach.

That Wednesday, I told my boss at the billing office that I had a migraine and needed to leave early.

Instead of going home, I drove to the address on the receipt. It was a beautiful neighborhood, the kind of place where the lawns are perfectly manicured and everyone has a three-car garage. I parked my old Buick three houses down and waited.

At exactly 4 PM, Mark’s silver sedan pulled into the driveway. He got out carrying a gift bag. He walked up to the front door, let himself in with a key, and closed the door behind him.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely grip the steering wheel. I waited twenty minutes. Then, I got out of the car.

When I rang the doorbell, a young, attractive woman with dark, styled hair opened the door. She was wearing a silk blouse. And there, resting against her collarbone, was my grandmother’s gold filigree pendant.

I stared at the pendant. The world seemed to shrink down to that tiny piece of gold.

“Can I help you?” she asked, looking at my old faded raincoat and my worn shoes with a slight, polite confusion.

“Who are you?” I asked. My voice sounded flat, hollow.

“I’m Elena,” she said. “Are you looking for someone?”

“My name is Claire,” I said. “I’m Mark’s wife.”

Elena’s eyes went wide. She took a step back, her hand instantly flying to her throat, her fingers covering the gold pendant. “What? No. That’s… that’s impossible. Mark’s wife died 3 years ago. From cancer.”

“He told me his wife died,” she whispered, her face turning completely pale.

“Not yet,” I said.

I pulled out my phone, snapped a quick photo of her face and the pendant, and turned on my heel.

I walked back to my Buick, got in, and drove home. I didn’t cry. I felt completely numb, like my brain had simply shut down to protect itself from the pain.

I sat at our kitchen table for two hours, waiting for him. When Mark finally walked through the door at 6:30 PM, smelling of that vanilla perfume, I didn’t say a word. I just slid my phone across the table, showing the photo of Elena wearing my grandmother’s pendant.