Strange things I found in my husband’s car: a broken button, lipstick, a floss pick, and a bangle. Anytime I found these items, I asked my husband how they got into his car. He had a nice way of explaining them away. He was driving a company car, so he mostly told me these items might have found their way into the car because of the colleagues he picked up from work.

FOLLOW US ON WHATSAPP CHANNEL TO RECEIVE ALL STORIES IN YOUR INBOX

I didn’t have any evidence, but his explanations sounded very shallow to me. A broken button? How can someone dress for work and have a broken button? What was the person doing before she left her lipstick in the car? I could forgive the floss pick, but the bangle—how did it get removed?

I was always scared in my soul that my husband was up to something. So I searched his bag when he wasn’t aware. I went through his phones. He had two phones: a personal one and a company phone. The personal one had the security of a prison in Azerbaijan. There was a password at every step, so I couldn’t access it.

I would smell his shirts before I washed them, just in case there was a female perfume on them. I would check his pockets, hoping I would find condoms. My heart would have been at ease if I had found condoms. That would have told me he was using protection, but I didn’t find any. I even searched his shoes. You know men. When they want to hide something, they put it in unexpected places. I didn’t find anything.

I prayed about it. I even fasted about it, telling God to open my eyes to what was going on in my marriage. Every time I prayed, I was at peace but didn’t hear a word from God. I told myself, “Maybe it’s the devil sowing the seed of doubt in my marriage. That’s why prayers bring me peace but no answers.”

I kept my calm and stopped searching. I gave my all to the marriage, hoping that if I did, everything would fall into place.

One early morning, I was sweeping around the compound when I got to where my husband’s car was parked. I looked at the back seat and something drew my attention. It was white and behind the driver’s seat. I went to the room, got the car keys, and came back to check what it was. It was a lady’s panty with a sanitary pad still attached to it.

I’m a woman, but I was disgusted. There was a bloodstain on it. Not much. I left it there and quickly went inside to call him to come and see it. I asked him, “What is this?”

His face went from indifferent to horror before he asked me, “How would I know?”

I said, “How did this get into your car? First of all, you came home very late last night, and this is in your car? Who does it belong to?”

My husband swore heaven and earth that he knew nothing about the panty. He said, “Let’s just say I’m cheating on you and I had an affair in this car. So you mean to tell me the lady was so silly she would forget her panty in the car and walk home naked? Give me some respect. This doesn’t make sense.”

I looked at him closely as he spoke. His eyes were saying something else. He turned to walk away and told me, “I didn’t think you could go that far, but if you did this intentionally, kindly take it away. It’s disgusting.”

I stood by the car and cried. “God, what is happening?” I took a photo of it and left it inside the car. My heart was beating fast. I was asking myself a whole lot of questions. “My husband would mess with a woman in her menstrual cycle? What don’t I do for this man that he had to go that far?”

I sat in a chair in the bedroom, distraught and thinking, when I saw his phone screen light up. It was a call from a number that wasn’t saved on his phone. I wouldn’t have done that, but at that moment I wasn’t thinking straight, so I picked up the call.

The caller didn’t wait for me to say hello. She quickly barged in, “I’ve been texting you all morning. It looks like I left my panty in…”

And then she hit the brakes. Maybe it was the way I was breathing heavily, or perhaps I made a sound that made her realize I wasn’t the person she was talking to. She stopped abruptly and said, “Jeff… Jeff, why are you not talking?”

I answered, “This is not Jeff, but thank you for…”

The line dropped before I could finish my statement.

I went to him in the bathroom. I screamed, “You said you knew nothing about the panty, so why is a woman calling to ask about it?”

He rubbed the soap off his face and saw his phone in my hand. “What are you saying? What has come over you?”

I answered, “Finish bathing and open your phone. We’ll read the texts together.”

I waited until he finished, but he quickly snatched the phone from me. He said I was running mad and should have my mind checked. “You’ve been suspecting me since we got married, always asking questions about your little findings. Why are you here if you still don’t trust me?”

I jumped and grabbed him by the neck, shouting that he should open the phone. Maybe my son heard the sound of the commotion and opened the door. He asked what was going on, fear evident in his voice. I had to smile and tell him all was well. My husband had the breathing space to run away.

At that very moment, I prayed and asked God what I should do about it. All day there was this calm in my heart, as if I wasn’t the woman who had been fighting early that morning.

I called his parents and narrated everything, from the buttons to the lipstick and then to the stained panty. “He’s running away with the evidence. I know he’ll delete everything.”

When his parents called us, he sought to paint me as a deranged woman who saw things that didn’t exist. He made that statement again that if I didn’t trust him, I should leave the marriage. I listened to him this time and left with the kids the very next day.

It took him a whole month to respond to my parents’ call to come home. That disrespect alone told me I had better not go back to that marriage. I got a divorce and went my way.

Three years later, my ex-husband is being moved from one prayer camp to another and from one hospital to another, looking for a cure for a disease no one knows the origin of.

I Called My Girlfriend And Another Man Answered The Phone

At first, they said I had cursed him. I laughed because if I had that power, I would have used it to discover the truth earlier. He’s stuck in bed. He can’t walk or even sit for long. All he does is cry. They don’t talk much about what’s wrong with him, but I know he’s suffering the wages of his sins. He made me look mad, but now he’s the one going mad because of his situation.

—Cecelia 

This story you just read was sent to us by someone just like you. We know you have a story too. Email it to us at [email protected]. You can also drop your number and we will call you so you tell us your story.

******