Daniel and I used to have Friday nights together—movies, popcorn, laughter. Now? He was always “working late.” One night, while Jason slept, I heard a buzz downstairs. On the screen: Jessie calling. A smiling face, ponytail, school logo. Jason’s teacher. My blood froze.

I confided in my best friend Lana the next day, tears spilling into my cappuccino. “He’s with her,” I whispered. Lana leaned in, smirking. “Perfect. Then clean up the truth. One of our janitors called in sick at the school. You’ll go. Disguise, wig, name badge. No one will recognize you.” I laughed nervously, but hours later, there I was—in a curly red wig, oversized uniform, mop in hand—Agent Kacey on a mission.

At school, my heart pounded as I scrubbed hallways. No sign of Daniel. Until dismissal. Then I saw him, walking toward Jessie’s room. I pretended to mop nearby when Jessie’s syrupy voice floated out: “Tonight, same as always?” My stomach dropped. Betrayal confirmed. Just then, Jason walked in. I flinched, my mop hit the wig, and—plop. Jason’s eyes widened. “Mom?!”

Daniel froze. Jessie blinked. I wanted to scream, but instead, I grabbed Jason’s hand. “We’re going home.” Back at the house, rage carried me through shoving Daniel’s clothes into suitcases. That’s when a little girl appeared at the door, braids swinging, bright eyes shining. “Hi. I came with my Dad. My name’s Sofia.” Daniel stepped up, pale. “She’s… my daughter.”

My world spun. He explained: Jessie wasn’t a fling—she was his past. Sofia was his child. All Jessie wanted was for her to know her father. Fury battled relief. Betrayal turned into a twisted kind of truth. Life wasn’t ruined—just rewritten.