Judith asked me to never open her old red suitcase in our closet, which I did for 11 years. I heard a voice in the luggage one night. Curiosity won. Its contents wrecked my life.
Luna loved cuddling up by the window to watch the snowfall. She disappeared that night. Felix slept on a chair with his paw over his eyes, blissfully unconscious.
I sipped whiskey in the recliner, letting the fire and Christmas lights calm me. Business kept Judith away again. Another last-minute excursion. Another lonely night without her.
I hated being alone over Christmas week, but she said it was crucial for her business and we’d make up on Christmas Eve.
I’d heard everything. Still, I let her leave. I always did.
On my way to refill my glass, I heard a disturbance upstairs.
At first, I ignored it. A home produced noise. Some heating vents shook like ancient bones, and it moaned and groaned. It wasn’t that. This speech seemed muffled, as if spoken behind something thick.
My heart was thudding like a warning drum as I laid the glass down carefully.
Felix remained still. I tested the fireplace poker’s weight as I climbed the stairs. My fingertips clung to the chilly iron.
The sound improved up stairs. Soft, rhythmic wail. The sound drew me to our bedroom. It came from the closet.
“Luna?” I nudge the door with my foot, whispering. No reply. As if on repeat, the voice repeated every several seconds. I gripped the poker harder.
I opened the door.
Luna flew out like a bullet, her gray fur puffing like a ghost. She escaped my legs and ran down the corridor. I shakily breathed, chest tight with relief. Of course. She was probably stuck. Cats explore everything.
But that voice continued.
It came from Judith’s old red luggage in the corner. Luna probably knocked it over.
I froze.
“Promise me you’ll never open it,” she urged years ago. “Just personal stuff. Nothing you care about.”
Like an idiot, I promised. A year has passed since our marriage. I trusted her.
The voice repeated. Two syllables repeatedly. “Mama.”
Dropping to my knees. Short, shallow breaths. I considered it a toy. Sound-activated doll. But Judith didn’t keep toys. She disliked kids. They were unwanted.
Judith would be furious if I broke my vow, but I couldn’t leave her luggage with that child’s voice playing. Had to know what was happening.
The suitcase zipper snagged midway, requiring me to pull harder.
Metal teeth opened loudly in the calm room. Removed the lid. Topped with a digital recorder. Tiny speaker crackled.
“Mama.”
I felt it more this time. Under the recorder were neatly wrapped baby garments and heaps of pictures, like her secret memories. Spread them on the nightstand.
Air exited my lungs.
Judith smiles, nuzzling a boy’s cheek. Got her eyes. Another older youngster smiled with lacking front teeth. Playing beach with both kids, Judith holds hands. She hugged them in front of a new Christmas tree.
What the…” My voice whispered.
I flipped quicker. Birthday parties and theme park visits bring more smiles. I found a folder in the baggage. Two birth certificates were inside. Reading made my hands shake.
My name was not recorded as the mother, but Judith was. Marcus was indicated as the father.
Staring at the names made my thoughts wander like a loose tooth. Judith had kids. Not one. Two. Who was Marcus?
Blood drummed in my ears like battle drums.
Luna walked near the door while I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop and Felix on my lap, his warmth anchoring me. Put Marcus’s full name in the search bar.
Results were swift.
The first connection was a public social media presence. I felt a chest punch from the headline photo.
Judith. She held onto a man with a kid on his shoulders and a girl at her side. They all appeared cheerful.
“Family day with my love ❤️,” read the caption.
Scrolling down revealed earlier posts. Marcus, Judith, and a surrogate mother enclosed the baby bump like a precious object. We couldn’t have done it without her. Thank you for starting our family.”
My hands clenched. Judith led a double life. Why did we lie throughout our marriage? It puzzled me. I thought we were glad.
I sank in my seat, dazed at the secret I’d discovered. Then money hit me.
Judith always liked good things, and I spoilt her. I was rich and pleased to spend money on my lovely wife. I never questioned her extravagant spending since it didn’t matter. For her happiness, I would have given her the moon.
Not anymore.
Judith returned home beaming two days later.
Did you miss me, babe? Tossing her luggage beside the door, she inquired.
“Always.” I kissed her cheek and grinned.
We ate steak by candlelight that night. I poured her wine and saw her eyes crinkle with joy as she ordered me to do this every time she left.
Just grinned. I was ten steps ahead. The final two days were spent planning and maneuvering. I canceled her credit cards, emptied our bank accounts, and called a lawyer to initiate divorce proceedings.
I even hired a private investigator to prove her double life. It was all new to Judith.
The next day, she returned from work to snow. She ascended the porch, typing on her phone, hardly looking at the door before turning the knob. It stayed put.
I saw her turn her head through the doorbell camera. Confusion. She inserted one of her keys. It fit wrong.
Cold air misted her breath. She called with twitching fingers. I’m here, darling. It appears you neglected to mention the locks. Please let me in—it’s chilly outdoors. Thanks, love.”
Her voice sounded sweet. She believed she was in charge. The intercom button was pushed.
I know everything, Judith. Lying to me for 11 years. Two kids. Another dude. All my money.”
She blinks rapidly. Her mask crumbled, releasing control like steam from a busted kettle. She snarled after parting her lips in surprise.
“But how… You opened my suitcase! Her voice rose with each syllable, turning astonishment into wrath. How dare you disobey me, traitor! I said never to open it! I said it was confidential and my! And you—”
She inhaled sharply.
She grabbed her coat like she needed a squeeze. You think you’re smart now, right? Like you finally understood. Oh, please.” Her hollow chuckle was piercing and cruel.
The doorbell camera caught her attention. She stared with rage and scorn, not appealing. Her tone became colder and more menacing.
“Here’s what’s going to happen,” she continued, her voice chilly as the snow.
“Unlock this door. Right now. You’ll apologize for your error. You’ll grovel again because that’s Ethan. You will do it because you know you need me more than I need you.”
I don’t. Judith, the divorce is filed. Goodbye.”
Then Judith raged.
Her fists hit the door, destroyed a porch ceramic planter, and crushed the Adirondack chairs while shouting that I wrecked everything.
She fell to her knees on the lawn, head down, her face in her hands when she ran out of steam. Her wrath turned into sorrow as I watched her disintegrate.
“There she is,” I said through the camera. The actual Judith.”
I had my first solo Christmas in 11 years. Felix slept on his favorite recliner as Luna watched the snowstorm from the window. I drank whiskey beside the fire, surrounded by lights.
The corner had Judith’s old red luggage.
I never moved it.
Some pledges are worth breaking.
