My husband, Mark, left for Switzerland on a business trip just a few days ago. He’d been excited about this opportunity for weeks, talking endlessly about the towering skyscrapers and luxurious hotels he’d see.
I was happy for him, of course, but I couldn’t shake a nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Today, as I was tidying up our bedroom, I noticed a corner of something blue peeking out from under his side of the mattress.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I lifted the edge to investigate. My heart nearly stopped when I pulled out Mark’s international passport.
For a moment, I stood there frozen, passport in hand, my mind racing. How could he have gone to Switzerland without this crucial document?
Was he even in Switzerland at all? A thousand questions flooded my thoughts, each more unsettling than the last.
With trembling fingers, I opened the passport, half-expecting to find it expired or damaged – anything that might explain this bizarre situation.
But no, it was perfectly valid, with Mark’s serious face staring back at me from the photo page.
I sank onto the bed, still clutching the passport, as a mix of emotions washed over me. Confusion, anger, fear – they all swirled together into a knot in my stomach.
Where was Mark really? Why would he lie about his destination? And most importantly, what was I going to do now?
As I sat there, trying to make sense of it all, my phone buzzed with a message. It was from Mark, sending a cheery update about his day in Switzerland, complete with a photo of him in front of beautiful building sceneries.
I looked from the phone to the passport in my hand, feeling like I’d stumbled into some kind of twisted alternate reality.
One thing was clear: I had a mystery on my hands, and I was determined to unravel it. Little did I know, this discovery was just the beginning of a journey that would change everything I thought I knew about my life and my marriage.