Her Well-Hidden Secret

Ever since we started dating, I had never once gone through Nydia's phone. After all, everyone is entitled to their privacy.

But for some reason, tonight, I felt an inexplicable urge to take a look.

I tried a few passwords—my birthday, her birthday, and even Rylee's—but none of them worked.

Nydia walked in and saw me fiddling with her phone. Her expression darkened slightly.

"What's this? After all these years of marriage, have you finally decided to start playing detective?" she teased, then casually unlocked the phone and handed it to me.

On the screen was a chat with someone saved as "Ms. Wright", with a profile picture of a woman. The messages consisted of files and timestamps.

"That's Ms. Wright from our company. She's been eyeing me for a promotion and has been piling on the work. Satisfied now?" Nydia explained.

I gave the chat a quick glance, then chuckled and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

She gently punched me in the chest as I apologized. "I'm sorry. How about I make it up to you? I booked us a table at Dawnlight Bistro tonight. Candlelight dinner for two."

I smiled, cupped her face, and kissed her lightly. Nydia flushed and nestled into my arms.

Still, for reasons I couldn't explain, I noticed she was trembling slightly.

-

I had reserved a private room for dinner.

Shortly after we sat down, a small group of performers came in to entertain us. Nydia rested her head on her hand, watching them with rapt attention.

The clock in the room ticked away. At 7:20 PM, I excused myself to the restroom.

While looking at her phone earlier, I noticed that the files from "Ms. Wright" always included a peculiar sequence of numbers: 720.

It reminded me of a quirky college roommate I once had. He had a habit of sending cryptic numbers in our group chats—numbers like 820, which he explained meant 8:20 PM.

Back in college, we had weekly evening study sessions, but he wasn't a fan. During those sessions, he'd send us a string of numbers.

It was his way of telling us he was leaving and when, so we could cover for him if the supervisor came around to check attendance.

The thought crossed my mind: Could the timestamps in Nydia's messages mean something similar?

Standing by the restaurant window, I laughed at myself. Was I seriously letting a random number in a file name make me suspicious of my wife?

It was absurd. Completely out of character for me.

I splashed cold water on my face in the restroom, trying to shake off my doubts. Feeling a bit more grounded, I turned to head back to the private room—only to freeze in place.

Standing just outside the restaurant's entrance was my stepmother-in-law, Lauren. And next to her was Rylee.

Lauren's face was stormy as she dragged Rylee forward, completely ignoring the fact that they were in a public place. Rylee's cheeks were streaked with tears, and her round little face bore a fresh scratch that was still oozing blood.

Something inside me snapped.

I hurried over and scooped Rylee into my arms.

Rylee clung tightly to my neck, her small voice sobbing as she called out, "Daddy…"

My heart shattered. I gently patted her back, trying to soothe her.

Lauren's demeanor shifted the moment she saw me. Gone was her domineering aura, replaced by the meekness of a scolded child.

"Kids will be kids. She bumped into a chair, and I was just about to take her to get it bandaged," Lauren explained with a nervous smile while shooting pointed glances at Rylee.

Rylee trembled harder and buried her face deeper into my chest.

"Even so, she's just a child, Lauren. You can't drag her around like that. She can't keep up," I said, my anger barely contained.

If she weren't Nydia's stepmother, I might not have held back.

Lauren's face flushed with embarrassment as the attention of nearby diners turned toward her. I noticed her left hand twitch slightly—she seemed to be considering some sort of retaliation.

I stepped forward, my tall frame looming over her, cutting off whatever thought she had in mind.

Lauren glared at me, huffed indignantly, and scurried off.

I turned my attention back to Rylee, holding her close as I whispered reassurances. My anger simmered beneath the surface as I carried her back to the private room.

But when I opened the door, wanting to confront Nydia, I realized the room was empty.

I called over a waiter, who informed me she had left shortly after I excused myself.

Closing my eyes, I thought about that so-called Ms. Wright's cryptic file names and the surveillance camera I had found at home.

Piece by piece, it felt like something much larger—and far more unsettling—was coming together. Some secret, hidden in plain sight, was waiting to be uncovered.