The Camera I Installed for Our Baby Became His Love Letter to Her

For an entire year after our daughter was born, my husband slept in the guest room.

For her safety, I'd installed a camera in the master bedroom that ran twenty-four hours a day.

That night, while he was in the shower, his phone kept chiming with one notification after another.

I had never once checked his phone, but in that moment, as if guided by some unseen hand, I picked it up.

In the message thread, almost every night in the small hours, he'd been sending the same woman a clip from that camera, along with a line of text.

"See? I didn't touch her today."

"Don't worry. Just looking at her makes me sick to my stomach. Nothing's going to happen between us."

In those clips, there I was in the middle of the night, hair a mess, pacing the bedroom over and over with the baby in my arms.

There I was, crying, blaming myself because our daughter was sick.

There I was, even, half-dressed and nursing.

Every breakdown, every lonely, ragged hour of my nights had been captured by that camera in perfect clarity.

That camera I'd installed only for our daughter's safety.

And now it had become the blade driven into me, the loyalty token my husband handed to another woman.

——

I had never gone through Donald Butler's phone, so naturally he'd never bothered to delete a thing.

I kept scrolling up, reading through every little piece of how they'd fallen for each other.

It started with "Nice work on the proposal today. Get some rest."

Then later, "What are you up to? I can't really sleep."

Then, the night they made it official, "Now you have a boyfriend."

After that, it was one clip after another of me in the dead of night, hair wild and face haggard, paired with Donald's vows of devotion.

"Don't worry, I'm sleeping in the study. I haven't touched her."

My hands shook harder and harder until I could barely hold the phone.

So this was what it felt like, watching the intimate details of your husband's romance with another woman.

The sound of running water in the bathroom stopped.

I set the messages back to "mark as unread," then calmly returned the phone to where it had been.

Donald walked over to me, toweling off his wet hair.

"Why are you still sitting in the living room? Not tired tonight?"

I lifted my eyes to look at him.

From eighteen to twenty-eight now. A full ten years.

I had loved this man for ten whole years.

When I didn't answer, Donald set down the towel and sat beside me.

"Why do you look so pale?"

"Are you feeling sick somewhere? Should we go to the hospital and have it checked?"

I drew in a deep breath.

"Donald, come sleep in the bedroom tonight."

Donald had work in the mornings, and after our daughter was born, I'd been the one to move him into the study so I wouldn't disturb his rest. At first he'd been reluctant, but over time we'd both gotten used to sleeping in separate rooms.

This was the first time I'd ever asked him to move back.

Donald froze, as though he hadn't expected me to bring it up.

"Wh… why? Why are you suddenly saying this?"

His evasiveness made my heart sink for a moment.

Maybe afraid he'd upset me, Donald softened his voice.

"Rowena Summers, you know how it is. There's a really important project at the company right now, and I've been exhausted lately."

"Besides, I have to work late at odd hours, and you're already worn out taking care of the baby. Teresa Acevedo's still so little."

"I'm afraid I'd disturb you both and keep you from sleeping well."

The tenderness in Donald's eyes brimmed so full it nearly spilled over, and every word out of his mouth was for the good of me and our daughter, exactly the same as he'd been these past ten years.

If I hadn't just seen those messages on his phone, I would have believed every word he said was sincere.