Why My Husband Divorced
It was one of those peaceful, quiet afternoons that make you feel at ease, surrounded by the calm of the open field and the gentle rustling of leaves.
I leaned against the truck, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the solitude, and thought about sharing a small moment of my day with my husband.
The truck looked picture-perfect against the trees, so I snapped a quick photo and sent it off without a second thought.
The reply came back almost instantly, and it wasn’t what I had anticipated.“Who’s that in the reflection?”I frowned, reading his words again, unsure of what he meant.
I hadn’t seen anyone. “What reflection?” I typed back, a slight unease building.“The rear window. There’s someone there,” he replied, his tone suddenly more serious.
Heart pounding, I opened the photo and zoomed in, focusing on the rear window’s reflection. At first, I assumed it was just a glare, maybe a trick of the light or a shadow from the trees. But as I studied it more closely, my stomach twisted.
There was, indeed, a figure—a faint outline of a person standing just behind me. The more I looked, the more familiar the shape became. A man in a hat, his face obscured by the brim’s shadow.
