I worked two jobs to help fulfill my husband’s dream of becoming a doctor — at his graduation, he handed me divorce papers, but just as I was walking away, one of his classmates said, “Before you leave, there’s something you should know.”

I had hung the curtains.

I had arranged the bookshelves.

I walked through the door and stood in the hallway for a moment, looking at it all.

Then I went to the desk in the second bedroom, the room Nathan had used as a study, and I started opening drawers.

I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.

I told myself I was looking for anything that confirmed what Daniel had shown me, anything that added to the picture.

But the truth was simpler than that.

I was looking for the version of my life that had been running parallel to the one I thought I was living.

I found it in the bottom drawer, beneath a folder of old lecture notes.

A second phone.

Prepaid.

Fully charged.

I turned it on.

It was password protected, but the screen lit up with a notification before it locked — a missed call from a contact listed only as C.

I set it on the desk.

I called Daniel.

“He has a second phone,” I said when he picked up.

A pause.

“Where did you find it?”

“Bottom desk drawer.