At first, it was just annoying. A black Camry kept showing up in my assigned parking space, always with a polite note and a phone number left on the windshield. Every time I called, the man would promptly move the car, never offering an explanation. It was strange, but I let it go—until it started happening again and again, especially on my most exhausting workdays.
What began as a mild irritation soon turned unsettling. The man always wore the same hoodie and hat, appearing just long enough to drive off in silence. My wife Amy brushed it off as harmless, even calling it “sweet.” But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. One rainy Saturday, I spotted the Camry outside a grocery store. I followed my instincts—and the car—and what I saw next changed everything.
The mystery man wasn’t alone. Amy, my wife, was with him—smiling, holding his hand, looking happier than I’d seen her in months. I followed them back to our apartment, to my parking space, and watched him leave another note just like always. It hit me then: the notes were a signal. When I called, he knew to leave. Amy had orchestrated it all. I walked in on them moments later. Their betrayal wasn’t just emotional—it was calculated.
I left that night and never looked back. I filed for divorce and started over in a small studio with no assigned spots, no secret messages—just peace. The silence is heavy sometimes, but it’s honest. And after months of deception, that’s more than enough.