Our Mortgage, Her Home

My husband wouldn't let me see the apartment we bought for our marriage.

He said the construction had stalled and it would just upset me.

For three years, every time I brought it up, his face clouded with worry.

We'd moved to a neighboring city with higher-paying jobs to keep up with the mortgage, renting a place while working ourselves to the bone.

Then last week, I passed through our hometown on a business trip and happened to swing by that development.

What I saw wasn't an abandoned construction site at allit was a lush, upscale community lined with trees.

The buildings were pristine, with children playing outside.

I found our building and took the elevator up to the fifteenth floor.

The door to unit 1502 opened.

A woman in loungewear stood there, looking every bit like the lady of the house.

I'd seen her before.

My husband said she was a friend's sister. He'd posted photos of them on social media.

I froze in the doorway. She froze too.

I double-checked the number1502. This was it.

The exact floor and unit we'd agonized over before finally deciding.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her tone guarded.

I opened my mouth but couldn't figure out how to answer. This was my place. Who was I supposed to be looking for?

"Is this your house?" I blurted out.

She looked me up and down, her expression dripping with confusion, then rolled her eyes and slammed the door in my face.

I stood there staring at the closed door, my head buzzing.

I don't really remember how I got back to the hotel.

I just remember sitting on the edge of the bed for a long time, staring at nothing, then booking the next train back to our rental.

When I pushed open the door, my husband Derek was busy in the kitchen. He heard me come in and poked his head out. "You're back? Hungry? Dinner's almost ready."

"How was work today?" He handed me a fork. "Business trip wear you out?"

I shook my head. Said it was fine.

He sat down across from me and put a piece of steak on my plate. "Eat up. You've been looking thin lately."

I lowered my head and mechanically shoveled food into my mouth, but my mind was stuck on what I'd seen earlier.

The upscale community. The fully finished condo. The woman in loungewear.

And the three hundred thousand dollars we still owed on the mortgage.

"Hey," I looked up, "I still want to see that place."

Derek paused for a second but quickly recovered. "Why are you bringing this up again?"

"I just feel like... we've been paying this mortgage for so long. I should at least see it once."

"How many times do I have to tell you? It's nothing but a construction site right nowsteel beams and concrete. What's there to see?"

He sighed, his voice tinged with resignation.

"Once they restart construction and it's safe to go in, I promise I'll take you. You'll be the first."

I watched him. His face showed nothing unusual. He even smiled at me.

"Is the mortgage stressing you out again? If it's too much, I can cover more this month. Don't overthink it. If you're tired, take a few days off."

I lowered my head and kept eating.

He kept talkingsomething about a project at work, a possible year-end bonus, telling me not to pinch pennies so much, to spend money when I needed to.

I listened, murmuring agreement, but inside I felt cold.

Three years.

For three years he'd been like this every day. Gentle. Caring. Always looking out for me.

But that community this afternoon. That door. That woman.

And just nowthat brief pause in his hand.

Suddenly, the man who'd slept beside me for three years felt like a stranger.

The next day I called in sick and went back to that development.

This time I went straight to the property management office.

"Hi, I'd like to look up information on unit 1502."

The manager looked up, his eyes professionally wary. "And you are?"

I handed him my phone, showing our marriage certificate and a screenshot of the purchase contract.

"I'm the owner of that unit."

He studied it for a while, asked for my ID, cross-checked everything several times, then finally spoke. "What would you like to know?"

"When was this unit delivered?"

"End of 2019," he said matter-of-factly. "Over three years ago now."

My head started buzzing.

Derek had told me it stalled exactly three and a half years ago.

"Who's living there now?"

He hesitated, probably noticing my expression, and lowered his voice. "A young woman, early twenties, quite pretty. She said..."

"Said what?"

"That it's her boyfriend's place." He paused. "Your husband."

I gripped the counter, my nails digging into the surface.

"I have security footage," he said quietly. "Would you like to see it?"

I nodded.

He pulled up the past six months of recordings and fast-forwarded through them.

On screen, Derek appeared at the building entrance again and againsometimes carrying grocery bags, sometimes holding that woman's hand.

They stood downstairs. She rose on her tiptoes and kissed him. He smiled, wrapped his arm around her waist, and they walked into the building together.

Every single one of those days matched when he'd told me he was on a business trip.

I stared at the screen, my stomach churning.

I covered my mouth, spun around, and rushed to the bathroom. I hunched over the sink, dry heaving for what felt like forever, but nothing came up.

The property manager knocked on the door. "Are you okay?"

I splashed water on my face, walked out, nodded at him, and said nothing.

After barely pulling myself together, I went home.

When I opened the door, Derek was sitting on the couch watching TV. He stood up immediately when he saw me.

"You're home early today."

"You look terrible." He walked over and reached to feel my forehead. "Are you sick?"

I instinctively stepped back.

His hand hung in midair. He looked confused for a moment, then smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," I said. "Just tired."

"Then lie down and rest. I'll get you some hot water." He turned toward the kitchen, his voice full of concern. "What do you want for dinner? I'll make it."

I sat on the couch, watching his back.

He was bustling around in the kitchen, just like yesterday, just like every day for the past three years.

But all I could see was the footage playing in my head.

His arm around her. Her rising on her toes to kiss him. Him smiling and pulling her close.

I covered my mouth. My stomach lurched again.

Friday night, Derek said he had a business trip over the weekend.

"There's a project we need to discuss. The client can't travel, so we're going to them." He packed his suitcase as he talked. "I'll be back Monday night."

I leaned against the bedroom doorway, watching him. I made a small sound of acknowledgment.

He zipped up the suitcase, walked over, and hugged me. "Make sure you eat properly while I'm gone. Don't skip meals."

I nodded.

Early the next morning, I took a cab to his company.

The receptionist didn't recognize me. She asked who I was looking for.

"Is Derek on a business trip?" I stood at the front desk without moving.

"And you are?"

"His wife," I said.

She froze, didn't respond.

Just then, a middle-aged man walked by. He looked like one of Derek's coworkers.

He'd overheard our exchange and gave me a once-over.

"You're Derek's wife?"

"Yes."

He frowned. His expression was strangelike he didn't believe me, but also like he was working something out.

"Derek took time off. He's taking his girlfriend to her prenatal checkup." He spoke slowly, deliberately, as if making sure I heard every word. "If you're going to make up a story, at least make it believable."

My mind went blank.

"I am his wife."

"We've been married almost five years."

He looked at me. His expression shifted from doubt to pity to something else entirely.

He pulled his files closer to his chest and took a step back.

"Is something wrong with you?"

He tapped his temple, looking at me like I was crazy.

"Call security!"

I don't know how I ended up being pushed out the door.

As security grabbed my arm and walked me out, I didn't even struggle.

I crouched on the sidewalk, buried my face in my knees, and cried until I was shaking, until there were no tears left.

Monday. The day Derek said his business trip ended.

Seven p.m. He came home right on time.

"The house," I said. "I want to talk about it."

He paused, his face still wearing that gentle expression. "What about it? Thinking about that stalled project again?"

"It's not stalled."

I locked eyes with him.

"I went there today."

His expression didn't change, but his hand holding the remote paused for a second.

"Why would you go there?" He shook his head with a smile, his tone like he was coaxing a child. "Didn't I tell you? It's just a construction site. Waste of a trip."

"Construction site?"

My voice came out so quiet it didn't sound like mine.

"I saw the building today. Fifteenth floor. Fully finished."

He stopped talking.

"I also saw the person living in 1502." I said, "She asked who I was looking for, then shut the door."

The remote clattered to the floor. He didn't pick it up.

The air went still. So still I could hear the refrigerator humming.

"Derek." I said his name. "Tell me right now. Is that building stalled or not?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it.

A few seconds passed. He lowered his head, his voice dropping. "The developer did have problems back then. But later a new company took over and they restarted construction. I didn't mean to hide it from you, it's just..."

Just whathe didn't finish.

"Just what?" I finished for him. "Just that you happened to move another woman in?"

He jerked his head up. "It's not what you think!"

"Then what is it?"

I pulled out my phone, found the security footage from the property office, and held it up to his face.

On screen, he had his arm around that woman, standing at the building entrance. She rose on her toes and kissed him.

He glanced at it. His face changed.

"What is this?"

I asked.

He didn't answer.

"Last week you said you were on a business trip. Was that a business trip?"

He lowered his eyes. His Adam's apple bobbed.

"There's one more thing." I put my phone away. "I went to your office that day."