Jenny had no idea a surprising discovery would upend her dreams when she moved into her fiancé’s home.
A strange yellow suitcase left on her porch revealed a painful betrayal, setting her on a path of bravery and self-discovery.
I recently moved into my fiancé’s house, excited to begin our new lives together.
He’s been abroad on business, so I’ve been here alone, trying to make the apartment feel like home. Everything shifted yesterday, from enthusiasm to surprise and dismay.
Yesterday I returned from a long day of shopping. As I parked into the driveway, I noticed a large yellow suitcase on the threshold.
It wasn’t only the size or the vibrant color that attracted my attention; it was the short note attached it.
The note said, “Open and run.” My heart pounded.
Should I call the police? Curiosity got the best of me. With shaky hands, I opened the luggage, bracing for the worst.
What I discovered was even more surprising.
The luggage included photographs, letters, and memories.
There were photos of my fiancé and another woman, their faces close and personal.
The letters described their connection and plans, and even addressed me as an impediment to their pleasure.
“What on earth is this?” I whispered to myself while scrolling through the photos. My hands shook while I read the letters. Each word felt like a sword in my heart.As I sat there shocked, my phone rang.
The number was unknown. I responded with a trembling voice.
“Hello?””Hi, is this Jenny?” a woman inquired. “Yes, who is this?” I answered.
My name is Claire. I am the woman in the photographs. “I left the suitcase on your doorstep.””Why?
“Why would you do that?” I inquired, my voice breaking. “I discovered the truth about you and your fiancé recently,” she told me.
“He has been lying to both of us. I attempted to contact you before, but this was the only option I could think of.
I remained silent, pondering her remarks. Claire went on, “I’m very sorry you had to find out in this way. I believed you deserved to know the truth.”How long have you known?” I finally inquired.
“About a month,” Claire replied gently.
“I didn’t believe it at first. I felt you should know before it progressed any further.” My phone rang again while I was still processing Claire’s admission. This time, it was my fiance.
The story doesn’t end here — it continues on the next page.
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