Months after our wedding, hotel key cards started appearing in my bag. My husband found one, accused me of cheating, and threatened divorce. Our prenup gave everything to the innocent party in such a case. I denied it, confused. I had no explanation for how the cards kept showing up, and the more I insisted I had no idea where they came from, the angrier he became. What hurt most was not the accusation itself, but how quickly he believed the worst. I started questioning myself—every moment, every errand, every grocery run—trying to remember if I had somehow picked them up by mistake. But the cards were from hotels I had never visited, and the mystery of it all made our home tense and fragile.
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