I was unpacking the first boxes in our new place when I borrowed the iPod on his speaker dock for some music. It kept chiming. I shouldn't have looked. I'm so glad I did.

For two years my husband had a second life I never heard. Then a phone update woke a sound he never meant me to hear.

A guilty tip from his ex-wife's coworker told him who she'd been seeing. He thought he finally had the whole truth. He had less than half of it.

At the family party I slipped into the dark study to find him by the window. I pressed close and told him exactly what we'd done. Then he turned around.

His phone was unlocked, face-up on the counter. I didn't have to snoop or decode a single thing. The contact name did all the work.

My husband got jumpy whenever I came home early. I never found a single text or receipt. The thing that finally told me the truth had feathers.