Page 12 of Love You Madly

Red Flag #326.

Not long after that night, I found out that I was pregnant with Sara, and I was ecstatic. But then I borrowed Adam’s laptop and found Skype calls between him and a woman from one of the couples we knew. He claimed he was helping plan her fiance’s bachelor party, which made no sense. Adam had never planned a party in his life, wasn’t close to the groom, and was only in the wedding because of his friendship with the bride.

Maybe even a little too close.

Red Flag #400.

My rose-colored glasses were extra hazy, apparently. Becoming a mother was supposed to fulfill all my dreams. I had the house, the husband, and soon, the perfect little family with two-point-five kids and a dog. Isn’t that the dream I was chasing?

When we moved back to Iowa from Seattle, Adam told me he wanted to have an open marriage. I told him I wanted a divorce or, at the very least, a trial separation. The expectation during the separation was for us to keep things quiet until we figured out what we wanted. I was so embarrassed at the idea of my family finding out.

As a result… he started looking for hookups on Craigslist.

Red Flag #704.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen this side of him. And apparently, won’t be the last.

It’s been three days since we moved in, and the new house is slowly starting to feel like home. Sara’s giggles echo through the rooms, and even Adam has been more helpful than usual. There's a cautious sense of optimism in the air, but it feels fragile, like it could shatter at any moment.

Then I see it—Adam’s phone, left carelessly on the kitchen counter, lighting up with a new notification. My heart sinks. He never leaves his phone unattended. It’s practically daring me to pick it up.

I know it’s wrong, an invasion of privacy. But after all the times he’s broken my trust, the resentment burns hotter than the guilt. Screw it. My hands tremble as I grab the phone and check the notification.

There it is–FlameFinder, a dating app, bold and blatant on his screen.

Red Flag #751.

My heart sinks, but anger surges even faster. Really, Adam? Not even a week into our new home, and you’re already looking for your next fling?

I stand there, frozen in disbelief. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe he just hasn’t deleted the app since we moved in. I knew he had it during our trial separation, but now? Now, when we’re supposed to be rebuilding? I don’t know his password, so I can’t check the details. All I see is that flame icon, a symbol that now haunts me. I have no proof he’s using it, but the doubt gnaws at me, eating away at whatever hope I have left.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm inside me. Logic tells me to confront him, but fear and frustration hold me back. Instead, I download the app on my phone and create a profile. I upload a recent selfie and add a headline:

I’m just waiting to see how long it takes for my husband to figure out he’s been caught.

Subtlety has never been my strong suit.

Throughout the day, Adam is his usual self, even sweeter than normal. He makes breakfast for Sara and me, and for a brief moment, it almost feels like we’re a happy family again. But the sight of his phone sitting on the counter nags at me, a relentless reminder that things are far from perfect.

Later that evening, while Adam is in the shower, his phone lights up again with another notification from FlameFinder. My patience is wearing thin—I can’t keep pretending nothing’s wrong.

I head into the bathroom, determined to confront him, but as soon as I open the door, I’m met with the unmistakable sound of his fist slapping against his own wet skin. His back is to me, but it’s obvious what he’s doing, even through the steam clinging to the glass shower door.

The pit in my stomach deepens, but this time, it’s not just disappointment–it’s rage.

You’d think I’d want to join him, maybe take care of him. Nope. I’ll see myself out. I don’t need to see anything more than that. No, thank you. It hits me in that moment just how much I’m no longer attracted to my husband—in any way.

The next morning, Adam is up early, heading out to do who-knows-what, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I spend the day unpacking, but the weight of his potential betrayal hangs over me like a dark cloud. Every time I hear his phone beep, my stomach tightens into knots.

Days blur together, each one indistinguishable from the last. Adam continues to play the role of a devoted husband, but the cracks are starting to show. Then, out of nowhere, he asks if I’ll go with him to a funeral visitation. Apparently, his highschool friend’s dad passed away. We went to high school with the same crowd, but I don’t recall anyone losing a parent recently.

Turns out, it’s Janelle’s dad—Janelle, the girl he dated all through high school. The girl he broke up with just before he and I started dating the first time.

"Adam," I say cautiously, the unease clear in my voice. "I don’t think Jess would be comfortable with me going. If you want to attend, I won’t stop you, but it feels inappropriate for me to tag along."

I never really knew Janelle VanPelt. She was homeschooled, and our paths never crossed. Still, I remember their breakup wasn’t exactly amicable, and she definitely didn’t appreciate finding out that Adam and I got together soon after.

“I already talked to her about it,” he says casually. I wasn’t aware they still spoke, and the thought unsettles me. “She said it would be okay. I think she would actually appreciate it if you came with me.”

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