When Patrick, Jane’s husband, starts paying more attention to his phone than to her, she suspects him of cheating.
The situation escalates when she finds a mysterious ring under the car seat.
Lately, everything about my husband seemed strange. Patrick, who used to be an open book to me, had suddenly become a mystery.
He had transformed from a man who never paid attention to his phone when we were together to someone who clung to it, guarding it like a valuable secret.
I spent most evenings eating alone because Patrick locked himself in our study and pretended to work, even though I heard him whispering on the phone.
“What’s going on, Patrick?” I asked him after enduring the same cold routine for two weeks.
“Work is tough, Jane,” he said, maintaining eye contact. “It will calm down soon, I promise.”
Normally, Patrick would sit down with me and discuss his work, but instead, he retreated to the study with a cup of coffee.
It wasn’t just the distance between us—it was the silence, the unspoken words hanging in our home.
A few days after that conversation, Patrick told me that I should use his car for work.
“Take mine, sweetheart,” he said after I mentioned that I would have to stop at a gas station and would be late for work. “I filled it up last night.”
I got into Patrick’s car and breathed in the familiar scent of his aftershave mixed with the worn leather of the seats.
While adjusting the driver’s seat, I found it—a beautiful ring hidden under the seat in a velvet box.
It wasn’t mine, that was clear.
But it was absolutely stunning, and it felt familiar. The delicate design and the way it sparkled in the light made my heart sink.
Whose ring was this?
I started the car and drove to work while questions swirled in my mind. Was there another woman? Were Patrick’s late nights and the guarded phone due to someone else? Who was on the other end of his quiet phone calls?
I entered my office, feeling the weight of the possibility that Patrick was cheating on me. My 30th birthday was coming up soon, and Patrick had said he had something big planned.
But what if he didn’t stay long enough to celebrate with me? What if he left me for someone else?
In a fit of anger—or perhaps desperation, maybe even revenge—I came up with a plan. If this ring belonged to the other woman in Patrick’s life or was meant for her, I wanted her to feel a fraction of the pain I was going through.
So, I took my bottle of habanero sauce—a staple for all my meals at work—and soaked the ring in it.
After it dried, I put the ring back where I found it and waited for the storm I was sure would follow.
Then I took my stethoscope and began seeing my patients.
When I got home, Patrick was cooking dinner, but the moment he turned off the stove, he put on his shoes.
“I have to go to my mom’s; she wanted help around the house. I’ll be back soon,” he said, heading for the door.
I paced the house, waiting for something to happen. I almost wanted to call Patrick’s mother to see if he really had gone to her.
“Pull yourself together, Jane,” I told myself as I helped myself to dinner.
My phone rang, pulling me out of my thoughts—I had to stay alert in case it was a medical emergency involving one of my patients.
Instead, it was Monica, my best friend, whose voice sounded panicked.
“Jane! I need your help!” she shouted into the phone, barely taking a breath.
“What’s wrong?” I asked calmly.
I put on a piece of jewelry, and it feels like my hand is on fire. What should I do? This has never happened to me! It’s so bad!”
Her words were a shock to my system. It couldn’t be a coincidence.
So the woman I thought my husband was cheating with wasn’t a stranger but my best friend?
After I calmed Monica down and suggested she dip her hand in yogurt, I cautiously asked her why she was in such pain.
“I… I don’t know, Jane. It started just when I put on the ring. Patrick didn’t know what to do either, so he told me to call you,” she said, gasping as she realized she had betrayed herself.
“Oh my gosh, Monica. Why were you with Patrick? Please, just tell me the truth.”
There was a pause. A brief moment of hesitation before she admitted the truth.
“It’s not what you think, Jane. Patrick and I were planning your surprise party. The ring is for you. It’s a family heirloom from Patrick’s side, and he wanted you to have it. He showed it to me because he just had it cleaned. I just wanted to try it on.”
The pieces of the puzzle finally came together. All those late nights, the secrecy, Patrick’s attachment to his phone—it was all for me.
In my haste to judge, I had nearly destroyed the trust and love we had built over the years.
I told Monica to get Patrick so he could bring her to me so I could take a look at her hand.
When they got home, I told them everything—the guilt was overwhelming, but I knew I had to make things right.
“It’s okay, Jane,” Monica reassured me. “We should have mentioned it earlier. I’m just glad we can clear this up now.”
I spent the next few days planning a special dinner for the three of us to make sure Patrick and Monica knew that I held no grudges.
“I need to apologize to both of you. I let my insecurities get the best of me and jumped to the worst conclusions.”
My husband reached across the table and took my hand in his.
“It’s alright, darling. What matters is that we’re honest with each other now. Here, I want you to have this.”
Patrick presented the ring again—cleaned and shining just as brightly despite the ordeal.
“You can have it now instead of on your birthday,” he grinned.
My bonds with Patrick and Monica had definitely been tested, but in the end, the truth made us stronger.
And I still had my birthday party to look forward to.
What would you have done?
