Then, his sister suddenly asked in French, “Does she know about the other…?” She stopped mid-sentence, glancing nervously at my husband.My heart raced. I calmly kept eating, pretending I hadn’t understood. Later that night, when we got home, I gently asked my husband in French, “What is it that I don’t know?” He froze—he hadn’t realized how much I’d learned. After a long pause, he explained. It wasn’t about another woman, as I feared.
