My jaw dropped when my son started sketching a grinning stranger. “He visits Mommy when you’re at work,” Oliver said simply. At first, I brushed it off as a child’s imagination, but then I saw a strange man entering our house, which sparked a terrifying search for answers.
I discovered the drawing while clearing off the dining table. Most of Oliver’s artwork was typical for a six-year-old: dinosaurs with rainbow-colored scales, our house with a volcano-shaped chimney, and stick figures of our family holding hands. But this picture made me stop.
Among the crayon scribbles was a tall figure with unnaturally lengthy arms and large hands, dressed in what looked like a suit. The face had an enormous grin that spread across most of its face.
“Oliver,” I called softly, trying to keep my voice calm as I touched the edge of the paper. “Is this me? Who is this?”
My son looked up from his LEGO blocks, his blue eyes shining with excitement.
The plastic pieces clattered to the floor as he dropped them. “That’s Mr. Smiles, Daddy! He’s Mommy’s new friend. He visits her while you’re at work.”
My heart skipped a beat. Laura and I had been married for nine years. We had our ups and downs, faced job changes and family tragedies, celebrated milestones and birthdays. But I never imagined she would…
No, I pushed that thought aside. There had to be a sane explanation. Laura wasn’t that type of person. We had built too much together.
“When does he come over?” I asked, trying to sound steady, despite my hands trembling.
Oliver placed another block on his tower, sticking out his tongue in concentration.
“Sometimes in the morning. Sometimes at night. He always makes Mommy and me laugh.” His face suddenly became serious, a small look of importance. “But, Daddy, it’s a secret! Don’t tell anyone!”
The mention of laughter and secrecy made my stomach turn cold.
That night, I barely slept, watching Laura breathe peacefully in the dark. Her steady breathing, once comforting, now felt like a tease. Every time she shifted, I wondered what she dreamt about and who.
The following day, I left work early, parked outside our house, and waited. The autumn air grew colder as the afternoon went on, with leaves skittering across my windshield. Just after 3 p.m., a sleek black car rolled into the driveway.
A tall, slim man got out and headed toward the front door. Even from a distance, I could see his broad smile as Laura welcomed him inside. The door closed behind them.
I held the steering wheel tightly until my knuckles turned white; the leather squeaking under my grip.
“Maybe this is all in my mind,” I whispered to myself, watching my breath fog the glass. “But if I’m wrong, I need to find out.”
Over the next few weeks, I began buying Laura flowers and small gifts to try to reconnect, but I also started gathering proof.
Receipts for dinners I never attended, phone calls she quickly left the room to answer, and more drawings from Oliver featuring “Mr. Smiles.” Each new clue felt like a brick in the wall growing between us.
Laura noticed my changing behavior.
“Are you okay?” she asked one day, touching my forehead with concern. “You seem distracted lately.”
Her genuine worry confused me. How could she pretend everything was normal if she was hiding something so big?
“Do you have someone else?” I asked.
“Someone else?” Laura looked at me wide-eyed, then shook her head.
“Of course not, honey!” she said, laughing softly. “Why would you think that?”
Maybe I should have confronted her then, but all my clues were circumstantial. I needed definitive proof.
One Friday night, I told Laura I’d work late, but instead, I set up a hidden camera in the living room, watching the feed from my car parked around the corner.
The screen glowed blue as I waited, my coffee growing cold.
On schedule, Mr. Smiles appeared, and Laura greeted him with her usual warm smile.
Then, something strange happened. He didn’t sit on the couch or share a meal with her. Instead, my sister entered, and Oliver ran down the stairs with a big smile. More people arrived—neighbors, friends.
