My husband started working late every Friday, always with a new excuse. One night, his phone buzzed—and the name on the screen made my blood turn to ice. That was the moment I grabbed the mop.
Daniel and I used to have our nights. You know the kind: the kids asleep, both of you in pajamas, him holding a bowl of popcorn, the two of you curled under a blanket, watching a movie you’ve seen five times already but pretending it’s the first.
Now? I’m sitting alone in bed, rubbing hand cream into my palms.
Jason had fallen asleep half an hour earlier. And Daniel…
Then I heard it—a phone buzzing downstairs. Somewhere on the first floor.
Strange. If he was already home, why wasn’t he coming upstairs?
I crept down the stairs barefoot, careful not to make a sound on the wooden steps. The guest bathroom light was on. Water was running. But that wasn’t what caught my attention.
It was the buzzing phone.
“Jessie calling…”
Her name lit up the screen, along with a photo of a woman with perfect teeth, a perky ponytail, and a button-down shirt embroidered with the school logo.
Wait a second… is that…?
Yes.
That was Jason’s new teacher.
My legs gave out, and I sank onto the staircase.
Seriously? You’re sleeping with our son’s school teacher?
And you even had the nerve to save her photo as her contact picture? When did this even happen?
I stared at the bathroom door. My hand moved toward the phone.
But… I’m not the kind of person who breaks doors or screams bloody murder. That has never been me.
No. If there was truth to uncover, I would find it. Quietly. On my terms.
I sat across from my best friend Lana at our usual Friday café—well, my usual café. Back then, Daniel never had time for it anymore. The cappuccino in front of me had gone lukewarm. My spoon traced slow circles in the foam.
“I just… I don’t even recognize myself anymore,” I said, my voice shaking as I fought back tears.
Lana leaned forward and gently rolled her eyes.
“Oh, come on…”
“Especially on Fridays,” I continued, my throat tightening. “Remember how it used to be our night?”
“Let me guess,” she said. “Now he’s always ‘working late’?”
I exhaled slowly into the steam rising from my cup.
“Every Friday. He says it’s school duty. Some after-school club or another.”
“But…?” she prompted.
I hesitated, then leaned closer and lowered my voice.
“But yesterday… his phone buzzed while he was in the bathroom. And I saw the name.”
Lana froze.
“Go on.”
“It said Jessie calling. With a photo. A woman smiling like she’d just stepped out of a toothpaste ad. Ponytail. School logo on her shirt.”
I paused.
“It was Jason’s new teacher.”
Lana’s eyes widened.
“Nooo.”
“Yes.”
She slapped the table lightly.
“Oh, no no no. That’s not school duty. That’s extracurricular drama. Okay. You need to do something.”
“Me?” I nearly choked on foam. “Lana, I still blush when I tell Jason Santa Claus is real. I can’t even lie to my cat without tearing up!”
“Perfect,” she said. “Because you won’t have to lie. Just… clean a little.”
“…What?”
“One of our cleaning girls called in sick. The school put in a request. My husband runs the service, remember?”
“Yeah, but—”
“I’ll tell him we’re sending a replacement. Someone new. You.”
I stared at her like she’d completely lost her mind.
“You want me to become a janitor?”
“Just for a week! I’ll give you a disguise. My party wig—red and curly. A name badge. No one will recognize you. It’s your chance to snoop without looking suspicious.”
I let out a half-laugh, half-wheeze.
“I’ve been scrubbing our floors for fifteen years. Maybe it’s time I go professional.”
“Exactly!” Lana winked. “You already have the experience. You’re just changing locations.”
My brain was screaming.
What if someone recognizes me? What if Daniel sees me?
Or worse…
What if I see something I can’t unsee?
I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe I’m considering this. I haven’t even pretended to be someone else since I wore bunny ears to Jason’s Easter play.”
“Honey,” Lana said, grinning, “those bunny ears were iconic. This? This will be legendary.”
And just like that, Operation “Clean Up the Truth” was born.
The next morning, I made breakfast as usual, left Daniel a note saying I had errands to run, and trusted that he’d take Jason to school.
I rushed across town to Lana’s house. Her hallway smelled like freshly ironed laundry, coffee, and expensive coconut perfume.
I smelled like nerves.
Standing in front of her mirror, I stared at my reflection.
“I don’t look like me,” I whispered, tugging at the red wig. “I look like a lunch lady who yells ‘everyone in line!’ three times before collapsing.”
“Exactly!” Lana beamed as she fastened the collar of my oversized navy uniform. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Uhh…”
“Perfect disguise,” she continued, clicking a name badge onto my chest. “No one suspects the janitor.”
I looked down. It read: “Kacey.”
My shoes were orthopedic. Rubber gloves bulged out of my pocket like I was planning a chemical heist. I was one mop away from a sitcom.
“You’re sure no one will recognize me?”
Lana shoved a walkie-talkie into my hand.
“Honey, you look like a school ruler—everyone’s seen one, no one remembers what it looks like.”
Thirty minutes later, her car screeched to a stop behind the school. The air was silent, misty, and faintly smelled of boiled sausages drifting from the cafeteria.
“You’ve got this,” Lana said as she unclicked my seatbelt, like she was sending me into battle.
“You’re Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. But instead of red boots, you’ve got bleach and a backup mop.”
“Oh, fabulous. Pretty Woman with floor cleaner.”
“If anything goes wrong, hit the panic button. Or just run.”
She flung the door open and practically shoved me out.
“Good luck, Agent Kacey. Kacey doesn’t panic. Kacey mops.”
The school security guard barely looked up.
“New one?”
“Mhm.”
“Don’t use the staff microwave. Smells like fish.”
Cool.
My heart pounded like I’d just robbed a bank. Every step down the hallway echoed too loudly. A group of middle schoolers passed by. One girl leaned toward the other.
“Who is she?”
“She’s a liar…”
Oh no. They know. They all know. They can see through me.
I turned, ready to faint—only to realize they were laughing over chips.
“…and my mom puts raisins in potato salad. I told her that’s like a culinary crime.”
Oh. Raisins in potato salad. Not me. Yet.
Paranoia: 1. Reality: 0.
I sighed and got to work.
There was no sign of Daniel all day.
Until the final bell rang.
The halls exploded with noise and backpacks. Some kids ran to clubs, others straight outside. Then I saw Jason, walking and chewing an apple. He looked healthy. Happy. Alive.
And then I saw Daniel—heading straight toward Jason’s classroom.
Jessie’s classroom.
The same Jessie who smiled from his phone screen like a toothpaste model.
I spun around, sucked in my stomach, and pretended the floor near her door was desperately filthy.
The door creaked open. Jessie’s voice floated out, syrupy sweet.
“Yeah, yeah… tonight, same as always?”
Same as always?!
My palms went slick. My mind screamed.
There it is. The betrayal!
And then—
“Dad?”
Jason.
My son stepped into the classroom.
“I forgot my pencil case…” he mumbled, then looked straight at me.
I flinched. My mop slipped.
The handle knocked into my wig, and in a flash, the fiery red curls flew off and hit the floor with a thud.
Jason stared.
Oh no. No. No no no.
“Mom?!”
Dead. I’m dead.
Daniel looked up, startled.
“…Sweetheart??”
Checkmate, Kacey.
There I stood on a freshly mopped floor, face burning red, heart pounding like the automatic hand dryer in the staff bathroom.
My husband was the one suspected of cheating—yet I was the clown in this comedy of errors.
I wanted to cry. Instead, I smiled.
“Hi, honey! Just came to get Jason.”
“You look… weird.”
“I’m coming with you,” Daniel said, stepping closer.
“Oh no, no,” I replied sweetly, meeting his eyes. “You’ll stay where you planned to spend your evening.”
I grabbed Jason’s hand and walked out before either of them could say another word.
Only when the door shut behind us did the tears finally fall.
I thought I was coming to catch a cheater. But nothing had prepared me for what came next.
At home, my rage was boiling over—but I kept it hidden from my son.
“Jason, you can skip school tomorrow. Don’t even worry about homework. Go watch cartoons.”
“Mom! Yay!”
“Someone in this house deserves to relax,” I called as I stomped upstairs. “Wash your hands and pour yourself some pancakes.”
“Okay!”
I yanked open the wardrobe and began throwing Daniel’s clothes into a pile.
“Jeans. Vacation pair. Great—take a vacation now.”
“Socks… wow, matched pairs. A miracle.”
“Oh, the ‘Best Husband Ever’ T-shirt? Sorry, Mr. Marks & Spencer. Today I’m not in the mood for irony.”
I dragged the suitcase downstairs. As I hauled the second one onto the porch, I froze.
A girl stood outside.
Slim. About ten years old. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hair neatly braided. She twirled on her toes like she’d been waiting a long time.
“Good afternoon!” she chirped.
“Hello…”
“I came with my Dad.”
Excuse me?!
I nearly dropped the suitcase.
At that moment, Daniel stepped out of the car.
“Hi… I, uh… Can we come in?”
“What is going on? Who is this girl?”
She smiled at me like we were old friends.
“My name’s Sofia.”
“She’s my daughter,” Daniel said quietly.
I stared at her. She stared back—big, light eyes. The same ones my husband had.
Jason peeked around the corner.
“What’s going on?”
“You have a guest,” I told him. “Be polite. Your dad and I need to talk.”
I turned to Sofia.
“Sweetheart, go join Jason. Cartoons are serious business.”
Once they disappeared, I faced Daniel.
“You should’ve told me right away.”
“I know. But I was scared. Jessica… We were together before you. She left without a word. Now she’s back.”
“And you?”
“I don’t want to lose you. Jessie’s married now. She doesn’t want anything from me—just for Sofia to have a father.”
“Everyone has a past, Daniel. But if this is part of your future, I want Jason to know his sister—not discover it the way I did. With wigs and mops.”
Daniel smiled gently. “We were thinking about which school to move her to. Clara was afraid it would be awkward.”
“It will be right.”
I was still furious—but deep down, I was relieved. I loved my husband.
“I’m going to the kitchen. The kids need milk.”
“Oh… and the suitcase?”
“You’ll carry it,” I said. “For once in your life, do something on your own.”
Note: This story is a work of fiction inspired by real events. Names, characters, and details have been altered. Any resemblance is coincidental. The author and publisher disclaim accuracy, liability, and responsibility for interpretations or reliance. All images are for illustration purposes only.
