Sarah was dusting the shelves in Nicholass study when her rag brushed a stack of papers on the edge of the desk. The sheets fluttered onto the floor and she cursed under her breath while gathering them up. Something glinted beneath the armchair a small black object. She reached down and pulled out a smartphone snug in a worn case.
Its odd, she muttered, turning the phone over in her hands.
Nicholass brandnew iPhone was always either in the pocket of his blazer or on the nightstand. This one looked cheaper, simpler, and completely unfamiliar. She pressed the power button the screen lit up, showing the time and date, no lock. A knot formed in Sarahs throat and her heart tightened.
She slipped into the armchair, eyes glued to the device. In their twentythree years of marriage theyd weathered fights, hurts, and doubts, but a second phone? Sarah never considered herself a jealous wife. She trusted Nicholas and was proud of their life together. Now the black box seemed to hold secrets that could shatter everything.
Twentythree years, two daughters could it all be for nothing? she thought, scrolling through the menus mechanically. No photos, just a handful of contacts numbers listed only by digits and initials. Then a conversation with A.S. caught her eye.
Tonight at 7, as usual? Nicholas had written three days earlier.
Yes, Ill be there, a brief reply came.
Two days later:
Thanks for yesterday. As always, you were brilliant. Nicholas.
Glad you liked it. Can you make it tomorrow? Sarah.
Ill try, but I cant promise, Nicholas typed.
Sarahs vision darkened. She had never imagined herself suspecting anything. A burning mix of hurt, anger, and disappointment surged through her. Twentythree years of trust, and now this?
The front door slammed. Nicholas had come home from work earlier than usual. In a panic Sarah slipped the phone into the pocket of her bathrobe, grabbed the rag, and pretended to continue cleaning.
Sarah, where are you? Nicholass voice called from the hallway.
In the study, tidying up, she answered, trying to sound normal.
Nicholas entered tall, fit, in a crisp suit. At fifty he still looked younger than his peers and often turned heads. Sarah had once been proud of that, but now a chill of fear ran down her spine.
How was your day? she asked, dusting a bookcase.
Fine, he loosened his tie and stretched. Just tired. Had a picky client that ate up three hours.
Which client? A.S.? Sarah wanted to ask, but held back.
What are you up to so early? he asked, looking at her.
Just missed you, he said, slipping his arms around her from behind, his cologne mixing with the faint smell of old cigarettes a habit hed quit five years ago. The scent prickled her.
Im off to the shower, Nicholas kissed her cheek and left.
Alone, Sarah sank onto the sofa. Should she cause a scene now? Follow him? Or confront him directly? The foreign phone pressed heavily in her bathrobe pocket. She pulled it out and reopened the messages. Nothing explicit no love notes or intimate photos. Yet the very existence of a second phone spoke volumes.
The evening passed in strained tension. They ate together, watched a series, talked about the girls. Their elder daughter, Poppy, lived in Manchester with her husband and a twoyearold son. The younger, Milly, was finishing university. Nicholas behaved as usual chatting about work, making jokes, asking about her day. Nothing suspicious, if one ignored the hidden phone.
At ten oclock he slipped into the shower, and Sarah decided to act. She retrieved his formal blazer from the wardrobe and checked the pockets empty. She opened his briefcase also empty. Just as she was about to give up, she spotted a tiny card in the side pocket of the blazer. A business card for Anna Sinclair with a phone number. Could this be the A.S. from the messages?
The bathroom water stopped. Sarah hurriedly put everything back, slipped into bed, and pretended to be asleep. Her heart hammered so loudly she feared Nicholas might hear it.
In the morning she rose before him and stared at his sleeping face familiar, beloved, now suddenly foreign. How could he do this? What had he been missing all these years?
At breakfast she could no longer hold back.
Nick, are you happy with me? she asked, stirring sugar into her tea.
He raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Whats with the earlymorning questions?
Just answer, she pressed.
Of course I am, he said, covering her hand with his. Twentythree years together, after all.
His touch, once comforting, now felt like a sting.
Dont you ever want something someone else?
Nicholas frowned.
Sarah, whats going on? Youve been odd since yesterday.
I just want an answer.
I dont need anyone else. Youre my wife, the mother of my children, my rock. Thats all, he said firmly. What nonsense is this?
His words sounded sincere, but Sarah no longer knew what to trust. The second phone still smoldered in her bathrobe pocket, and Anna Sinclairs card lay on the table.
Get going, youll be late, she managed a crooked smile.
When Nicholas left, Sarah again pulled the foreign phone and scanned the messages. She typed the name from the card into her computer. Anna Sinclair turned out to be a private guitar teacher. Her socialmedia profile showed a pleasant woman in her forties with bright auburn hair and a slim figure.
So thats who A.S. is, Sarah thought, bitterness rising.
At lunch she called her longtime friend Nina.
Can you believe it? I found Nicks second phone, Sarah said, voice shaking.
What? Seriously? Whats on it?
Sarah recounted the messages, the card, the auburnhaired teacher.
Oh, Sarah Nina sighed. Im sorry. What will you do?
I dont know. Twentythree years I thought we were fine.
Maybe it isnt that simple, Nina suggested cautiously. Talk to him.
What do I say? Ive been spying and found a secret phone?
Its better than guessing in your head.
After the call Sarah felt even more tangled. Part of her wanted a dramatic showdown, another part feared destroying what they had built. Could there be an innocent explanation? What could a hidden phone possibly hide?
That evening Nicholas returned with a bouquet of her favourite lilies.
Whats this for? Sarah asked, feeling the flowers compress in her chest a gift of guilt?
Just wanted to make you smile, he said, kissing her cheek. Youve seemed down lately.
Really? she managed a halfsmile.
During dinner they talked about everyday things, while the phone in her bathrobe pocket seemed to pulse, reminding her of its presence. Finally Sarah could hold it no longer.
Nick, what would you say if I got a second phone and hid it from you?
Nicholas swallowed his wine.
In what sense?
Literally. A secret phone for secret chats.
He frowned.
Id ask why you needed it and who you were talking to.
Sarah swallowed.
And if I said it wasnt your business?
Then Id suspect somethings off, he said, setting down his fork. Why the questions, Sarah?
She stood, walked to the bedroom and returned with the black phone.
I found this in your study, under the chair, she placed it on the table. Read the messages from A.S. and the card in your blazer.
Nicholass face went pale. He stared at the phone, then at his wife, surprise flickering in his eyes.
So thats where it was! he exclaimed, slapping his forehead. Id been looking everywhere!
Thats all you have to say? Sarahs voice trembled. Twentythree years, Nick! How could you?
What? he stammered. Wait, you think
I know! she snapped, throwing the card at him. Evening meetings, secret messages, Sarah suspects something! That auburnhaired teacher how long has this been going on?
Nicholas suddenly burst into laughter loud, genuine, tears streaming. Sarah froze, shocked by the unexpected reaction.
Sorry, he said, wiping his eyes. Sarah, love, its not what you think.
What is it then? she asked, arms crossed.
Sit down, Ill explain. Just promise not to interrupt, he said, pulling a chair closer.
She sat reluctantly.
Remember last year I turned fifty? Nicholas began. You kept asking what I wanted for my birthday and I kept saying nothing.
She nodded.
Ive always had a foolish dream to learn guitar. Ive been taking lessons from a private teacher for months. Thats Anna Sinclair. Shes a guitarist, not a masseuse. She massages as a hobby.
And the secret phone?
I bought a cheap secondary phone so you wouldnt see my lesson schedule or messages. I wanted to surprise you on our anniversary next month with a song Id learned. When you started asking why I was staying late, I panicked youd discover the plan. All as usual was me talking about the lessons. The note Sarah suspects something was me trying to cover my nervousness.
Sarah stared, unsure whether to believe him. The story sounded absurd, but the guitar in his hands would prove it.
Prove it, she demanded.
Nicholas sighed, left the study, and returned with a guitar case hidden behind winter coats. He pulled out an acoustic guitar, sat on a chair, and clumsily strummed a few chords before breaking into a shaky rendition of her favourite song, Everything About You. He missed several changes, but the effort was clear.
Sarah covered her face, tears slipping down, a mix of embarrassment and relief.
Im sorry, she whispered as the last chord faded. I let my imagination run away with me.
Nicholas set the guitar aside and knelt before her.
No, Im sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I thought it would be a funny surprise, a bit of romance it turned out a mess.
Why didnt you tell me straight away? she asked.
Because I was ashamed, he admitted. At my age, learning an instrument feels childish. I thought youd laugh.
Fool, she said, brushing his cheek. I would have liked to see you try.
Now I know, he said, kissing her hand. Should I keep the lessons or give up on my gray hairs?
Keep them, she smiled through tears. Just no more secret phones.
They stayed up late, him showing his modest progress, her laughing at his misstrummed chords. As they finally lay in bed, she sighed.
Its amazing you can still surprise me after all these years.
And I hope I can keep doing that, he murmured, pulling her close.
The next morning Sarah called Nina.
Guess what? It wasnt what I feared at all, she said, relief bright in her voice.
No way! He actually wanted to learn guitar?
Exactly! And it made me realise how little we talk about our hidden wishes. Were always busy with work, the kids, the house
Sounds like you both need more surprises, Nina laughed.
That evening Nicholas returned to find a candlelit dinner on the table and a small box beside his plate.
Whats this? he asked, curious.
Open it, Sarah said, smiling mysteriously.
Inside lay a guitar pick engraved with For my personal musician and two notes: one for a piano lesson shed booked for herself, the other a weekend getaway reservation at a countryside hotel.
Lets dream together, she said simply.
Nicholas embraced her, and they stood there, feeling as if they were rediscovering each other after a long pause. Ahead lay many more years, now filled with space for new discoveries and simple joys. The lesson was clear: even after decades, honesty and sharing ones hidden hopes keep love alive, and a little curiosity can turn suspicion into a melody of understanding.
