My ex-wife came to see our son. She ended up staying the night. I let her sleep on the couch. After midnight, I heard something I wasn’t supposed to hear.

Around 12:40 AM, I woke up.

I’ve always been a light sleeper—years of parenting will do that. Normally, when I wake up at night, the house is silent.

But this time I heard something.

Footsteps.

I stayed perfectly still, listening. The sound was coming from the living room. A faint glow from the kitchen light slipped under my bedroom door.

Then I heard a whisper.

“I’m sorry.”

It was Laura’s voice.

But it wasn’t the quiet whisper of someone trying not to wake a child. It sounded heavy, full of guilt and regret.

I held my breath.

Then I heard another voice.

A man’s voice.

“It’s not enough,” he said quietly. “You can’t keep running back to him every time things get difficult.”

My chest tightened.

There was someone else in my house.

A soft sound followed—a kiss.