November 29, 2024

What kind of twisted fairytale relationship have I put myself into?

When I first laid my eyes on Matt for the second time and saw how infatuated he was with me, I thought I had found the person I was going to spend the rest of my life with. He was the one who could save me from my monotone and meaningless life; a life where I couldn’t relate to anyone or anything. I thought that maybe after all these years, the universe or whatever force that watches over our lives had finally decided to give me the person I can be with; someone who really knows me.

Matt knows me, but do I feel the same about him? Do I know him? Sometimes I ask myself “What happened to the man I once knew? Did he change, or was I seeing him differently then?” When I moved in with him, I exposed myself completely to him, but apparently, he didn’t. When I think of him, all I can think about is a blurry outline and at first, I didn’t mind. I enjoyed the mystery and how slowly he unravelled parts of himself to me. I also accepted everything he did, because I truly believed he was my soulmate. I was submissive but only by choice, and allowed him be in charge. But lately, the things I’ve been figuring out about him are so alarming that I can’t help thinking, “I haven’t signed up for this.” The man I’ve been with for three months now has been living a double life all along. Every time he said he had to travel for work, he was indeed traveling, but not for work.

In the past couple of weeks, he’s been receiving too many calls from someone, a mysterious person he didn’t want me to find out about. I discreetly pretended I wasn’t noticing him walk to his office, close the door, locking it, so he can speak to him, or her. The fact he could be cheating crossed my mind, but that couldn’t have been the case because I knew he’s been fucking various people every time he said he wasn’t coming home at night. And since I’m still refusing to have sex with him, I’m letting this go. But those phone calls, they’re something else. They’re torture. There was no way he was seeing one specific person. Maybe it was a partner in crime; I wasn’t sure. My distrust towards him has led me to take the initiative and figure things out on my own.

Yesterday, I called him and asked when he’d be back and he said by midnight, so I came up with a plan. I wanted to get a hold of his cellphone, but there’s a finger print pass wording I had to figure how to unlock. In order to be able to snoop through his phone in the first place, I had to find a way to keep him distracted. But that wasn’t really smart so I thought of something else. Every night when he comes home, he drinks a few glasses of bourbon before he goes to bed, so I crushed a couple of sleeping pills, poured them in the decanter and mixed its content. I waited for him to come home and acted as normal as possible. He arrived, took his clothes off, turned on the TV, and started drinking. We talked as he did that, and after half an hour, he started to lose consciousness. Once he was asleep, I grabbed his cellphone and his finger, and unlocked it. I started reading his messages. I was shocked and annoyed there was nothing other than business messages and e-mails sent to him. He must’ve deleted anything he didn’t want me to see. Then I checked his recent calls. Nothing. There were a couple of unknown numbers, but none of those were recurrent so I assumed they meant nothing. Then I started looking through his pictures, and that’s when I found an unusual photo where he’s intimately holding a child. I kept scrolling and found another one with the same boy, alone sitting on a bench. I checked the dates and locations of both pictures: both were taken in Vancouver on dates he claimed he was leaving the city for business purposes. As it turned out, he wasn’t.

This morning I confronted him about the situation and he was furious at me for snooping around in his phone. But I didn’t let it go. I gave him no choice but to give me an explanation to what I had discovered. At this point there was a long pause which I recognized as a beginning to unexpected news. I held my breath and listened carefully. Then he said it: The boy in the picture was his own son. After that I could no longer focus. I didn’t even want to. His voice became barely audible. I was stunned, confused, and so angry as questions coursed inside my head. This has gone too far.

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