My Husband Went on a Business Trip — But I Found His Car Parked Outside a Motel

Then, we walked back to the car, where my oldest was waiting, sleepy and unaware of the storm brewing inside me.

I buckled them in, then sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles turned white.

I told myself to leave. To go home. To pretend I never saw it.

But I couldn’t.

Instead, I sat there. And I waited.

Minutes passed. Then, finally the door to one of the motel rooms opened, and out stepped my husband.

But that wasn’t the worst part.

He wasn’t alone. A woman followed him, her arm brushing against his as they walked toward his car.

I recognized her immediately and my entire body went cold.

It couldn’t be.

It was Emily.

The girl who had died in that car crash. The girl Scott had loved before me. The girl I had seen memorialized on our school’s memory board all those years ago.

The dead girl.

Scott and Emily got into his car and drove off, leaving me frozen in the parking lot.

I still don’t remember how I drove back home that day.

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