Title: The Secret Behind His Thursday Business Trips

My name is Laura Mitchell. I’m thirty-four years old and live with my husband in a quiet suburb of Seattle. From the outside, our marriage looked perfect.

My husband, Daniel Mitchell, is a polite and charming man who works as a business manager for a tech company. He earns a good salary—around $120,000 a year—more than enough for us to live comfortably in our small two-story house with a backyard.

We had been married for eight years.

During those eight years, Daniel was the kind of husband many of my friends envied. He was gentle, attentive, and never raised his voice at me. On weekends he often drove me to small restaurants by the ocean, and sometimes he even bought me roses simply because, as he said, “They reminded me of you.”

But about three months ago, something started to change.

At first, I didn’t notice it.

Daniel began saying that his company had a new project that required him to travel frequently to Portland for business. What was strange was how… consistent the schedule was.

Every Thursday he left.

On Thursday mornings around eight, he would take a small black suitcase and leave the house.

And he wouldn’t return until Sunday night.

At first, I thought it was normal. Work sometimes requires sacrifices.

In fact, I even felt sorry for him.

On Thursday nights when I stayed home alone, I often sent him messages like:

“Don’t forget to eat properly.”

Daniel always replied quickly.

“Don’t worry. I’m fine. Miss you.”

Those sweet messages reassured me.

Until one evening two weeks ago.

Daniel had just returned from one of his usual trips. I was collecting his clothes to put them in the washing machine when I suddenly froze.

On the collar of his white shirt… there was a red lipstick stain.

I stood there for several seconds.

My heart started pounding so hard that my ears rang.

In eight years of marriage, Daniel had never given me a reason to doubt him. But that lipstick mark was too obvious.

I held the shirt and walked into the living room.

Daniel was sitting on the sofa watching the news while drinking a beer.

I lifted the shirt.

“Daniel… what is this?”

He glanced at it. His eyes paused for a split second. Just one second.

Then he smiled.

“Oh… that must be from the client party. A girl got drunk and hugged everyone goodbye.”

I stayed silent.

He walked over and put an arm around my shoulder.

“You think I’m cheating?”

I looked into his eyes.

Daniel’s gaze was as calm as ever.

I told myself maybe I was overthinking.

“No… I was just asking.”

He kissed my forehead.

“Don’t imagine things. I only have you.”

That night we went to bed like usual.

But in my mind, that red lipstick mark kept replaying again and again.

I tried to forget it.

But the harder I tried… the more something felt wrong.

In the following weeks, Daniel continued to leave every Thursday.

The schedule never changed.

Thursday—he left.
Sunday—he returned.

Every time he walked out of the house, I stood by the window watching his gray BMW drive away until it disappeared around the corner.

And slowly, a feeling of unease began growing inside me.

Finally, this Thursday, I decided to do something I had never imagined I would do.

Follow my husband.

That morning Daniel left at eight as usual.

He kissed my cheek before leaving.

“I’ll be back Sunday.”

I smiled.

“Drive safely.”

But the moment his BMW turned out of our street… I ran to the bedroom.

I changed clothes quickly, grabbed my keys, and drove my Toyota Camry out of the garage.

My heart was racing.

I kept a safe distance behind Daniel’s car.

He drove out of the suburbs toward downtown Seattle.

That alone surprised me.

Because if he was going to Portland, he should have taken Interstate 5 south.

But Daniel turned toward the city center.

A chill ran down my spine.

The BMW finally stopped in front of a luxury apartment building near the harbor.

It was a modern tower with blue glass reflecting the sunlight.

Daniel parked in the underground garage.

I drove around the block and parked about fifty meters away.

My hands trembled as I unfastened my seatbelt.

I took a few deep breaths before stepping out of the car.

I stood across the street pretending to check my phone while secretly watching the building entrance.

About two minutes later, Daniel appeared.

He stepped out of his car.

He was wearing the light blue shirt I had ironed for him the night before.

My heart sank.

Because at that moment, a woman walked out of the building.

She looked about twenty-five.

Long blonde hair, tall figure, wearing a tight black dress.

She ran toward Daniel.

And before I could process what was happening… they hugged.

Not a polite hug.

Daniel wrapped his arms tightly around her.

The woman looked up.

Then they kissed.

Right there.

In broad daylight.

In front of the building.

My world seemed to stop.

I stood frozen.

I couldn’t hear the traffic.

I couldn’t hear the wind.

All I could see was the two of them standing there… like a happy couple.

After a few seconds, Daniel took her hand.

They walked into the building together.

The glass doors closed.

I was still standing there, unable to move.

A cold feeling spread through my body.

I don’t know how long I stood there.

Five minutes?

Ten?

Eventually I walked back to my car.

I sat in the driver’s seat but didn’t start the engine.

Tears began falling.

Eight years of marriage.

Eight years of trust.

And it turned out… it was all a lie.

But then another thought appeared.

Why would he have an apartment here?

If it were just an affair, they could meet in hotels.

Why a condominium?

And why every week?

The more I thought about it, the more something felt strange.

I wiped my tears.

Then I took out my phone.

I snapped a picture of Daniel’s BMW license plate in the garage.

Then I walked into the building.

At the reception desk sat a middle-aged man.

I forced myself to sound calm.

“Excuse me… I’m visiting a friend but I forgot the apartment number.”

He looked at me.

“Who are you looking for?”

I said Daniel’s name.

He typed on the computer for a moment.

Then he said:

“Apartment 1708.”

My heart pounded.

“Thank you.”

I stepped into the elevator.

When the doors closed, my hands were shaking so badly I had to grip the rail.

17th floor.

I walked down the hallway.

Apartment 1708 was at the end.

The door was closed.

I stood there for a few seconds.

Then… I knocked.

No answer.

I knocked again.

Still silence.

I was about to turn away when the door suddenly opened.

But the person standing in front of me… was not Daniel.

It was the blonde woman.

She looked surprised.

“Can I help you?”

I tried to stay calm.

“I’m looking for Daniel Mitchell.”

She blinked.

“He’s in the shower.”

Those words felt like a knife stabbing into my chest.

I took a deep breath.

“I’m his wife.”

The girl froze.

A few seconds passed.

But what shocked me most was… she didn’t panic.

She just stared at me.

Then she said something that made my entire world collapse.

“Oh… so you finally know.”

I stood there in silence.

“What do you mean?”

She opened the door wider.

“Come in. I think we should talk.”

My heart was racing.

I stepped into the apartment.

It was beautifully decorated.

A large living room with windows overlooking Elliott Bay.

Two glasses of wine sat on the table.

The woman gestured toward the sofa.

“My name is Emily Parker.”

I looked at her.

“How long have you and Daniel… been together?”

Emily stayed silent for a moment.

“Three years.”

Three years.

My head spun.

“Three years?”

Emily nodded.

“He said you couldn’t have children… and that your marriage was already falling apart.”

I froze.

“What?”

“He said your relationship only existed on paper.”

I laughed.

A bitter laugh.

“He told you that?”

Emily looked confused.

“Isn’t it true?”

I stared straight into her eyes.

“Daniel and I have never separated. And we’re planning to buy a bigger house to start a family.”

Emily’s face turned pale.

“What…?”

At that moment, the bathroom door opened.

Daniel walked out, drying his hair with a towel.

When he saw me… he froze.

The towel slipped from his hand.

“Laura…?”

I stood up.

Looking at the man I had loved for eight years.

My voice trembled but remained clear.

“Hello, Daniel.”

The room fell into a terrifying silence.

Daniel looked at me.

Then at Emily.

Then back at me.

For the first time… I saw panic in his eyes.

I took a deep breath.

“Go ahead.”

“Three years… right?”

Daniel opened his mouth.

But no words came out.

Emily turned to him.

“Daniel… you said your wife already knew everything.”

Daniel closed his eyes.

And in that moment… I understood.

It wasn’t just betrayal.

He had been living two different lives for three years.

I gave a cold smile.

“Every Thursday business trip… was actually here.”

Daniel stepped closer.

“Laura… I can explain.”

I stepped back.

“No need.”

I looked at him one last time.

“Three years of lies… what’s left to explain?”

I turned and walked toward the door.

Behind me Daniel shouted:

“Laura!”

But I didn’t turn around.

The elevator doors closed.

And as it descended… I knew that my eight-year marriage had ended on the 17th floor of that building.

But deep inside me, another feeling slowly appeared.

Not just pain.

But a cold determination.

Because Daniel Mitchell still didn’t know…

That the house we lived in, the $180,000 savings account, and even the BMW he was driving…

were all in my name.