A Stranger’s Note on My Husband’s Car Made Me Call My Lawyer

When Sierra is in mom-mode, trying to get her kids off to school, she finds a sticky note on her husband’s car that makes her question where he had been the entire weekend. Wanting answers, she phones the number on the note and slowly, secrets unravel with her marriage.

It was a typical Monday morning. I was in my mom zone, trying to get the kids off to school on time. That’s when a piece of pink paper changed everything.

A close-up of smiling children | Pexels

I had just put the kids into the car and was about to put their lunch bags and backpacks in with them when I saw the bright pink sticky note plastered on the trunk of my husband’s car.

I paused, my heart pounding, and walked over to read it.

A pink sticky note on a car | Source: Midjourney

“Sit tight,” I told the kids. “I’m coming now! I just want to see what’s on Dad’s car.”

“Okay, Mom,” Natasha shouted from the backseat.

Children sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney

Sorry, I scratched your car last night. You shouldn’t park on the street though! -Neighbor from 283. This is my number in case you need anything!

Confusion and nausea washed over me. We don’t live near a house with that number, and my husband, Thomas, always parked in our garage.

A woman reading a sticky note | Source: Midjourney

“What was it?” my daughter asked when I slid into the driver’s seat.

“Nothing, honey,” I said. “Just a piece of paper that got stuck on Dad’s car.”

A woman in the driver’s seat | Source: Unsplash

Tom had just returned from a business trip this morning, so his car should have been parked at the airport the entire weekend.

My mind raced, and a sinking feeling settled in my stomach.

I knew that something was about to change.

A man wearing a suit | Source: Unsplash

“Enjoy your day, babies!” I said as the kids got out of the car at drop-off.

“Don’t forget, we have to make cookies for school tomorrow,” Natasha reminded me. “We need like sixty cookies, Mom.”

I left the kids and drove to the grocery store, needing to get everything for the cookies that we needed to bake.

An aisle in a grocery store | Source: Midjourney

“Can I help you, ma’am?” a young woman asked me as I walked up and down the baking aisle. She tied the grocery store’s apron tightly onto her.

“No, thank you,” I said absentmindedly. “I’m just browsing.”

A person tying an apron | Source: Pexels

But my mind just couldn’t stay focused at all. What was Thomas playing at?

I filled up the cart as I went up and down the aisle, getting enough ingredients for everything we needed and then paid.

Then, I decided to call Thomas and just check in.

A woman holding a phone and a card | Source: Pexels

“Hi, honey,” I said the moment he picked up.

“Hey, Sierra,” he said. “Are you okay? I’m just getting into a meeting now. I’ll speak to you later.”

And he cut the call.

A woman using her phone | Source: Pexels

“What on earth is going on?” I said aloud as I picked up gummy worms for Jake, my son.

Later, I picked up the kids and made toasted sandwiches while Natasha and I baked for her class.

A child holding a plate of toast | Source: Pexels

“Is everything okay, Mom?” Natasha asked, mixing in the chocolate chips. “You’re not helping Jake with homework.”

“Everything is fine,” I said, turning my focus back to my children.

Chocolate chips in a container | Source: Pexels

But still, my mind raced and I couldn’t shut it off. I was distracted and unable to stop the conspiracies that plagued my mind.

That evening, after tucking the kids into bed, I dialed the number on the note. The phone rang twice before a cheerful voice answered.

A little girl tucked in bed | Source: Pexels

“Hello, is this house 283?” I asked, nervously.

“Yes!” the woman said. “Who am I speaking to?”

“Sierra,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I found your note on my husband’s car this morning. Can you tell me more about the incident?”

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

There was a brief pause.

“Oh, yes, I’m Jane. I’m really sorry about that. I accidentally scratched his car when I was parking last night. I live at 283 Elm Street. Are you new to the neighborhood?”

My heart pounded.

“No, no,” I said. “I’m sure Thomas was just visiting a friend. Don’t worry about the scratch, I saw the car. It’s all good!”

A parked car | Source: Pexels

“Oh, are you sure?” she asked. “I’m sure that the insurance will cover it.”

“I’m sure,” I said, turning to look out the window. “But can you tell me where exactly he was parked?”

There was silence for a moment.

When Jane spoke, her voice was softer.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Pixabay

“He was parked right outside my house. There’s a small park across the street, and next to it, is a woman’s house. I’m sorry,” she said.

“Thank you, Jane,” I said.

I hung up, my mind reeling. Thomas had lied to me. He wasn’t on a business trip. He hadn’t even left the car at the airport.

A house with a garden | Source: Midjourney

Instead, he was at some woman’s house.

I didn’t want to confront my husband yet. I needed proof first. So, I got into bed beside him and forced myself to fall asleep.

A woman sleeping in bed | Source: Unsplash

The next morning, I gave the kids cereal for breakfast while trying to decide my next move.

After dropping them off at school, I drove to Elm Street. According to the GPS, it was about twenty minutes away from me. I looked for the park and the house next door.

Bowls of cereal | Source: Midjourney

Before doing anything else, I knocked on the door. A few moments later, a woman in her thirties opened the door.

“Hi, can I help you?” she asked.

“My name is Sierra,” I said. “I believe my husband, Thomas, was with you this weekend?”

Her eyes widened, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

A white front door | Source: Midjourney

“Oh, my God. I had no idea he was married. Please, come in. I’m Mary.”

My heart ached, and my wedding ring seemed to get tighter around my finger.

“He didn’t mention us? His family?” I asked.

Mary shook her head.

A woman hiding her face | Source: Unsplash

“No, he told me he was single. We met at a local market, and we’ve been seeing each other for a few months now. But he did say that work has been hectic recently. So we haven’t seen each other very often.”

“Mary, I need your help. I need evidence of his infidelity for my divorce lawyer. I can’t stay married to a man like this, especially with my kids. Can you help me?”

People at a farmer’s market | Source: Unsplash

Mary looked at me with determination.

“Of course,” she said. “We need to catch him in the act.”

Later that evening, Mary was going to text Thomas and invite him over. She told him that she really wanted them to have dinner together at home.

“I’ll tell him that I cooked,” she told me as I left her home. “That usually gets him here.”

A homecooked meal | Source: Midjourney

I left the kids with my mother and drove to Mary’s house, ready to catch Thomas in the act. When he arrived, Mary kissed him at the door.

My stomach turned, but I snapped the picture anyway. Then, I stepped out of my hiding place.

“Thomas,” I demanded. “What the hell is this?”

His face turned pale.

A couple embracing | Source: Unsplash

“Sierra, what are you doing here?”

Mary crossed her arms, glaring at him.

“You lied to both of us, Thomas,” she said. “How could you? And you have children?”

He stammered, trying to find the right words, but there were none.

“It’s not what it looks like,” he finally managed to say.

“Save it,” I said, holding my camera. “I have all the proof I need. I’m ready to file for divorce.”

A close-up of a camera | Source: Unsplash

“Sierra, please,” he said, trying to follow me to the car.

I brushed him off and got in, ready to head home to my children.

In the following weeks, Mary and I became unlikely friends, bonded by our shared betrayal. The most surprising thing was how quickly my children got attached to her.

On the day that the papers were finally signed, I felt the biggest sense of relief and empowerment.

Two woman sitting together | Source: Unsplash

Sure, my heart was broken, and so was my home. But as I was trying to fix myself, my children stepped in, ready to fill my life with the joy that only children can.

As for Thomas? He moved back in with his parents. He didn’t even put up a fight to make things better.

Two smiling children | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?