My husband went on a business trip to another city for a month, and I decided to move his favorite potted cactus to another location, but I accidentally broke it while carrying it. My hair stood on end when I saw what I saw inside…(7/9)

I quickly packed the essentials into a small bag and looked back at the apartment. Six years of living within these walls. Six years that turned out to be built on lies.

It was painful to realize this, but even more painful was the uncertainty. What awaits me? Will I ever see this house again? And will I see John? I closed the door and went downstairs. Outside, it was quiet; nothing boded danger.

But after John’s words, I began to get suspicious. It seemed like someone was hiding around every corner, that every passing car was following me. When I arrived at the station, I bought a ticket for the nearest train to Cleveland.

While waiting to board, I looked around nervously, searching for suspicious people. But no one paid any attention to me. Ordinary passengers, busy with their chores.

The train arrived on time, and I sat by the window. When the train pulled away, I finally allowed myself to relax a little. Whatever awaited me in Cleveland, at least I was moving, not sitting at home waiting for an unknown danger to find me.

Familiar landscapes unfolded through the window. The city, gradually replaced by suburbs, then fields, forests, and small towns. A peaceful, ordinary landscape that contrasted sharply with the chaos in my soul.

I thought again about John, about his double life, his secrets. Who was he really? Why did he lead such a strange, divided life? And most importantly: Did he ever truly love me? Or was I just part of a complex game? Looking back on our years together, I tried to find signs that indicated his deception.

Were there moments when he fainted? When his mask fell away, revealing his true face? I couldn’t remember anything specific. John had always been a caring and loving husband. Yes, he had frequent business trips, strange calls, and unexplained absences.

But I attributed all of that to the peculiarities of his job, to his stressful schedule. I never suspected that behind these little oddities lay a whole second life. How did he manage to lead a double life for so many years? How did he divide his time between two families? How did he remember who he told what, what stories he told? It required incredible organization, almost an acting talent.

Or… or my pathological ability to lie. The train arrived in Cleveland in two hours. I stepped off the platform and immediately headed to the taxi stand.

I gave the driver the address: 101 Pushkin Street. The ride took about 20 minutes.

The car stopped in front of a small, one-story house with a neat front yard. Nothing fancy. An ordinary house in a quiet part of a provincial town.

Who lived here? Seriously, one of John’s aunts? And did she know about his double life? I paid the driver, grabbed my purse, and walked to the door. For a moment, I was plagued by doubt. What would I say to the hostess? How would I explain my appearance? But there was nowhere to hide.

I opened the gate and walked up the path to the front door. I took a deep breath and pressed the buzzer. Several seconds passed before the door opened.

On the threshold stood an elderly woman in her 70s, with a kind, wrinkled face and an attentive gaze. “Hello,” I said. “Are you Mary?” The woman nodded, examining me closely. “Yes, it’s me. And who are you?” “My name is Emily,” I replied. “Emily Anderson.”

“I am.” I’m from John’s side.” At the mention of John’s name, the woman’s face changed. Anxiety and alertness flashed in her eyes.

“Come in,” she said quickly, stepping aside and letting me in. “No need to linger on the threshold.” I entered, and Mary immediately locked the door with all the padlocks.

There were at least three of them, which seemed odd for a quiet provincial town. “Follow me,” she said, leading me down a small hallway to the living room. The room was cozy and clean, with furniture that looked unchanged since the Soviet era.

A sofa with a knitted cover, a sideboard with crystal china, a television on a piece of furniture, shelves along the wall. Everything evoked the measured, tranquil life of an elderly woman. Nothing hinted at secrets or dangers.

But my attention wasn’t focused on the interior details, but on the people sitting on the sofa. Sarah and David. They were there, safe and sound.

“Emily!” Sarah exclaimed, leaping up from the sofa. “Thank God you’re here too. We were so worried.”

She came up to me and hugged me tightly, like an old friend. David, a slender teenager with a face that easily resembled John’s features, looked at me with curiosity and some attention. “Do you know each other?” Mary asked in surprise, shifting her gaze from me to Sarah.

“Yes,” Sarah replied. “We met yesterday. Emily.”

She’s John’s wife. The other one.” Mary shook her head.

“Oh, John, John. What have you done?” I sank into an armchair, feeling the tension of the past few days begin to dissipate. At least Sarah and David were safe.

And so was I, it seemed. For now. Tell me what happened,” I asked, turning to Sarah.
“Who broke into the cabin? Why did you run away?” Sarah sat down next to me and began to tell me. After our conversation at the café, I returned to the cabin and told David the truth. Not everyone, of course, omitted some details, but I explained that his father leads a double life, that he has another wife…

David was in shock; he refused to believe it. We talked at length, trying to understand what it all meant. And then, late at night, I found that note in John’s office.

He warned of the danger and advised me to go there, to see his aunt. I didn’t know whether to believe him, but I decided not to risk it. We were going to leave in the morning, but we didn’t have time.

They arrived first. “Who are they?” I asked. “Two men in black suits,” Sarah replied. “They arrived at the house in a black van.”

I saw them from the bedroom window and immediately realized they were up to no good. David and I managed to sneak through the back door and hide in the neighbor’s shed. We watched as they broke down the door and entered the house.

There they turned everything upside down, looking for something. And then they left. We waited until dark and walked to the nearest town. From there, we drove to Cleveland.

I had Mary’s address; John mentioned it once. “Weren’t you followed?” I asked. Sarah shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

We were very careful. I threw away my phone so they wouldn’t track us. I bought a new one here in Cleveland to send you a message.

“I don’t know if you understood?” “Understood,” I nodded. “That’s why I came to the cabin. And, apparently, I almost ran into the same people. I told them about my visit to the cabin, how I hid in the woods from strangers in black suits, about John’s call and his warning.”

“So it’s true,” Sarah said thoughtfully. “We really are in danger.” “But why? What did John do? And who are these people?” All eyes turned to Mary.

If anyone could shed light on John’s secrets, it was probably her. The old woman sighed and got up from the sofa. “I’ll make some tea,” she said.

The conversation would be long. While Mary busied herself in the kitchen, Sarah and I exchanged news. I told her about the note found in the safe’s hiding place, about the strange coordinates and codes.

“What does all this mean?” Sarah wondered. “It sounds like a spy novel, not real life. Maybe it is,” came Mary’s voice, returning with a tray of teacups and a plate of biscuits.

“Perhaps John really is connected to what we would call espionage.” She placed the tray on the table and sat down in the armchair opposite us. “Actually, I’m not John’s aunt,” she began.

“I’m his curator. Or rather, I was, until he decided to quit the game.” “Curator?” I asked again. “In what sense?” “John works for the special services,” Mary explained.

“Or rather, he worked. He was an undercover agent for an international criminal group specializing in arms and drug smuggling.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“John? A special services agent?” It sounded so absurd, so implausible, that I almost laughed. But Mary’s face was completely serious. “Are you joking?” Sarah asked, apparently feeling the same way I did. “I’m afraid not.” Mary shook her head.

John was recruited 15 years ago, while still a student. He was specially integrated into the organization. To do so, he had to create a new personality, a new biography.

And then another, when it was necessary to expand his circle of contacts. But why did he have to get married? Sarah wondered. “Why start a family if he was working undercover? This is part of the legend,” Mary explained.

“A family man inspires more confidence. Besides, it gave him a certain stability, an anchor in the real world. Undercover agents often lose their sense of their own personality.”

Family helped John remember who he really was. “And the second family?” I asked. “Why did he need me if he already had Sarah and David?” Mary looked at me sympathetically. “It wasn’t planned.”

John met you during one of the operations. You were only supposed to be a source of information, but he fell in love. He truly fell in love, for the first time in many years.

He shouldn’t have married you; It was a violation of every rule, but he couldn’t resist. His words took my breath away. John truly loved me.

I didn’t pretend, I didn’t play a role, but I truly felt something. “If you’re his guardian, why did you allow it?” Sarah asked, and I sensed bitterness in her voice. “Why didn’t you stop him when he decided to start a second family? I tried,” Mary sighed. “I convinced him it was too risky, that he was endangering himself, the women, and the child.

But he was steadfast. He said he’d overcome it, that he could protect everyone. And I must admit, he succeeded.

Until recently. “What changed?” I asked. Mary hesitated, as if weighing how much she could tell us. Six months ago, John received information about a large shipment of weapons.

It wasn’t a common weapon, but a chemical one, prohibited by international conventions. He passed the information to management, and an operation was set up to intercept it. But something went wrong.

The criminals learned of the impending raid and managed to escape. They suspected there was a mole among their ranks and began investigating. John realized the circle of suspects was narrowing and his exposure was in danger.

It’s only a matter of time. He decided to disappear, fake his death, and start a new life. With the two of you.

How so? We exhaled at the same time as Sarah. “He had a plan,” Mary continued. “He prepared documents, money, new identities for you and the child.

He was going to talk to each of you first, explain the situation, and then arrange your meeting. He hoped that, if not you would become friends, you would at least coexist peacefully for the sake of common safety. But he didn’t have time.

They discovered him sooner than expected. “What’s wrong with him now?” Sarah asked, her voice trembling. Mary held out her hands. “I don’t know.”

He contacted me three days ago, said I needed to keep a low profile, and that he would get back to me when it was safe.” I haven’t heard from him since. A thick silence fell over the room.

Each of us tried to comprehend what we were hearing. John. He wasn’t just a person leading a double life, but an undercover special services agent.

It explained a lot. His frequent absences, his strange phone conversations, his reluctance to talk about his work. But accepting this truth wasn’t easy.