I am sitting in the driver’s seat of my beat-up 2016 Honda Civic, staring blankly out the windshield, trying to process the single phone call that just blew my ten-year marriage into a million irreparable pieces.

It started like any other ordinary Tuesday. I was on my lunch break, eating a sandwich in my car to get some quiet time away from the office, when my phone rang.

The caller ID just showed a local number. I usually let those go to voicemail, but I was waiting for a call from my dentist, so I answered. “Hi, is this Sarah?” the voice asked. It was a man, sounding cheerful and professional. “I’m calling from the service department at the Hyundai dealership.

We just got a notice from the manufacturer about a minor warranty recall on your 2024 Hyundai Tucson, and we want to get you scheduled to bring it in.” I chuckled, swallowing a bite of my sandwich. “I think you have the wrong number,” I told him politely.

“I don’t own a Hyundai. I drive a 2016 Honda Civic, and it definitely doesn’t have a warranty anymore.” The man on the other end went silent for a moment. I could hear the click-clack of a keyboard in the background. “That’s strange,” he said.

“Let me verify the account. You are Sarah Miller, correct?” My stomach gave a tiny, involuntary flutter. “Yes.” “And you live at…” He proceeded to read off my exact home address. Then, before I could even process that, he read off my date of birth and my exact driver’s license number.

“Ma’am, we have you listed as the primary on the financing for a 2024 Tucson. Are you sure no one in your household purchased this vehicle?” My blood ran completely cold.

The sandwich in my lap felt like a lead weight. My first thought was identity theft.

Someone had stolen my information and bought a car. Panic started to rise in my throat. I asked him to tell me exactly when this car was purchased. “Looks like the deal was finalized in mid-October of last year,” he replied, his tone shifting from cheerful to slightly concerned.

“It was a pretty straightforward transaction. There was a trade-in credit applied from a 2019 Nissan Rogue, which brought the financing amount down significantly.” The world outside my car window seemed to stop spinning. The breath was completely knocked out of my lungs. I have never owned a Nissan Rogue in my life.

But my husband, Mark, did. Mark drove a 2019 Nissan Rogue for years. Last October, right around the time this mysterious Hyundai was purchased, Mark told me he was selling his car. He said it was starting to have transmission issues and he wanted to get rid of it before it completely broke down.

A week later, he came home without the car, claiming he had found a private buyer on Facebook Marketplace who gave him $6,000 in cash.