I Told My Mother the One Secret I Couldn’t Tell My Husband—Then I Found Her in His Arms Five Minutes Later
“Mom?”
Diane jumped away from him, her purse still sitting on the counter beside the dinner plates.
I looked from her to Noah and tried to make what I had seen fit inside the house we lived in.
“You hugged me upstairs.”
I pointed toward the stairs.
“Five minutes ago.”
Noah started to say my name, but I saw Mom's purse and remembered the question she'd asked me earlier that evening.
“You asked if we were okay.”
She began to cry.
“I was worried about you,” she said.
I grabbed a plate and smashed it into the sink, nowhere near either of them.
The sound startled me, and then I was crying too.
“Stop worrying about me!”
Noah took a step toward me.
“DON'T.”
He stopped, but Mom reached out her hand, and I backed away from her even farther than I had from him.
Weeks before that dinner, I'd trusted her with something about my marriage I hadn't been able to tell Noah.
Standing in that kitchen, I had no idea what she had done with those words, or how I was going to ask her.
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