The crisp September air nipped at my cheeks as I stood at the bus stop, heart racing with excitement. Today was my son Bobby’s first day of school, and I couldn’t wait to hear all about it. As the yellow bus rounded the corner, I searched eagerly for him.
There he was! Bobby’s golden hair appeared in the window, and he waved frantically. “Daddy! Daddy!” he shouted, bounding down the steps into my arms.
“Hey, champ! How was your first day?” I asked, squeezing him tight.
Bobby launched into a whirlwind recap: “It was awesome! We got to color and sing songs and meet new friends—”
That’s when I noticed it: a bright yellow sticker on the back of his backpack. Probably a “Great job!” from his teacher, I thought. But as I reached to peel it off, my heart sank.
A little boy with a backpack | Source: AmoMama
The words made my blood run cold:
“If your wife’s name is Jane, tell her to call SAM. I RECOGNIZED THE BABY!”
I blinked, certain I misread it. No, it was clear.
Flipping it over only worsened my dread:
“If you are Jane, call me on this number, baby. You know who I am. Will be waiting for you, darling. Mwaah!”
A phone number was scrawled underneath.
“Daddy? Are you listening?” Bobby tugged at my sleeve.
I forced a smile. “Sorry, buddy. Got distracted. Tell me more about your day.”
As we walked home, Bobby chattered away, but my mind raced. Who sent this? We’d only moved here two weeks ago. And “baby”? “Darling”? What was happening?
I pulled out my phone, dialing the number with shaking fingers. Voicemail. I tried again. Each ring felt like a hammer to my chest.
By the time we got home, I had called a dozen times. Bobby ran inside, shouting, “Mommy! I’m home!”
I lingered on the porch, staring at that sticker. Seven years of marriage with Jane, and doubt crept in like poison.
“Aaron?” Jane appeared, wiping her hands on a dishtowel. “Everything okay?”
Looking at her—same kind eyes, same warm smile—I felt a stranger.
“We need to talk,” I said.
Her expression shifted as I showed her the sticker. “What? I don’t understand.”
“That makes two of us. Care to explain?”
She shook her head, tears brimming. “I swear, I have no idea what this is about.”
“Really? Because someone seems to know you well. Is there someone else, Jane?”
“What? No!” Her eyes filled with tears. “You know me!”
“Do I?” I interrupted, feeling the weight of my fears. “Because I’m not so sure.”
The next morning, we headed straight for Bobby’s classroom. As we reached the door, Jane gasped. “SAM??”
Confused, I turned to see Bobby’s teacher, Samantha, looking shocked.
“Oh my God! Jane? Is that YOU?!” Samantha exclaimed, hugging Jane tightly.
I cleared my throat. “Uh, would someone mind filling me in?”
Jane wiped her eyes. “Aaron, this is Samantha. My best friend from college.”
Samantha smiled sheepishly. “I’m guessing you got my little message?”
My heart sank. “You left that sticker on my son’s backpack?”
Samantha nodded. “Guilty as charged. I thought it’d be a fun way to reconnect.”
“Fun? Do you have any idea what I’ve been through?”
Samantha’s face fell. “Oh no. I didn’t think… I’m so sorry.”
Jane squeezed my hand. “No harm done, right?”
I wanted to argue but couldn’t. “Right. No harm done,” I said, forcing a smile.
Later, as we sat on the porch swing, I said, “I’m sorry for doubting you.”
Jane took my face in her hands. “You have nothing to be sorry for. That sticker would’ve freaked anyone out.”
“I love you, Jane. The thought of losing you…”
“You’re not going to lose me. I love you, more than you know.”
As we sat there, I vowed never to let fear come between us again. The truth can be simple—two friends reconnecting after years apart. My love for Jane deepened, and I promised to never doubt her loyalty again.
