I remember feeling so worried about my husband, Jacob. For weeks, he had been driving across town every single night after work to care for his mother, Linda, who he said was very sick. He would come home exhausted, barely able to stand. His eyes had dark circles under them, and he was often too tired to eat. I felt guilty just watching him. He would kiss my cheek, mumble that his mom needed him, and then head back out the door. I told him over and over that he needed rest, but he insisted on going anyway.

Finally, last week, Jacob returned from work looking more tired than usual. His shirt was wrinkled, and his face looked pale. He mumbled, “Just need an hour, babe. Then I’ll head to Mom’s.” Before I could reply, he collapsed on the couch, fast asleep. Seeing him so worn out broke my heart. Something in me decided that enough was enough. He needed a break. So, while he slept, I quietly grabbed the car keys and a bag of groceries. I planned to go to Linda’s house instead. I thought: If she was truly sick, I could help with cooking and cleaning while Jacob got some rest.

I drove across town, worrying the entire time about what I might find. Would Linda be so ill that I’d need to call a doctor? Should I have woken Jacob to let him know I was doing this? But I brushed aside these doubts, telling myself I was doing a good thing.

When I arrived at Linda’s place, I spotted her standing at the door, looking out. My stomach fluttered with nervous energy. I imagined her opening the door in a robe, coughing, and frail from illness. But the moment she opened it, my world spun. Linda was dressed in a nice outfit, makeup on, nails shining with fresh polish. She looked healthier than ever. No sign of sickness whatsoever.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up. “I didn’t know you were coming. Where’s Jacob?” She stepped back, inviting me in. I blinked, trying to piece together what was happening.

With shaky hands, I set the groceries down. “He… he’s resting,” I said slowly. “He told me you were very ill, so I came to help.”

Linda frowned, lines forming on her forehead. “Ill? Me? I’m not ill at all. Haven’t been sick in ages.” Then she paused, scanning my face with concern. “Wait, Jacob said I was sick?”

I stood there, completely stunned. “Yes, for weeks. He’s been telling me every night that he has to come here after work to take care of you. He said you needed help cooking, cleaning, everything.”

Linda’s eyes widened in confusion. “He rarely visits me. The last time I saw him was about a month ago, when he stopped by for ten minutes to drop off a letter. I had no idea he told you I was sick.” She shook her head in disbelief, obviously as shocked as I was.

A wave of nausea hit me. If Linda wasn’t sick and Jacob wasn’t spending his nights with her, then where on earth was he going? My heart began pounding like a drum in my chest. All those times he came home exhausted, all those times he insisted he had to leave again to “take care of Mom,” all those tears I shed feeling sorry for him—were they all based on a lie?

Linda invited me to sit in the living room. She handed me a glass of water, and we tried to piece together the timeline. She explained that her health was fine, that she still went to her weekly gardening club and even played cards with her friends. She looked me in the eye and gently asked, “Are you okay? This must be such a shock.”

I nodded, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “I… I just don’t understand. He’s been gone nearly every night. I thought he was helping you. Why would he lie?” My mind raced with horrible scenarios: Could he be having an affair? Could he be gambling at a casino? Could he have joined some shady group? There was no easy answer.

After a few minutes of quiet, Linda insisted on driving me back home, but I told her I needed some air. I needed time to think about what to say to Jacob. My mother-in-law hugged me, telling me she was sorry for the confusion. She seemed genuinely upset that her son had involved her in such a big lie.

I got in my car and sat there, numb. A million questions swirled in my head. Should I call Jacob right away? Should I confront him calmly or pack my bags and leave? Anger, hurt, and betrayal all battled inside me. I decided not to call him. Instead, I drove home, set the groceries down, and waited.

An hour later, Jacob stumbled into the house, rubbing his eyes as though he’d just woken from a nap. He smiled weakly at me, probably about to say something like, “I better head to Mom’s now.” My hands clenched into fists. I forced myself to speak quietly: “I know,” I said. “I know Linda isn’t sick.”

His face drained of color. “What—where did you go?” he stammered, stepping back. “I… I don’t understand.”

I took a deep breath, my voice trembling. “I went to see your mother. I took groceries. She’s perfectly healthy. She hasn’t seen you in weeks.” My heart ached, but I kept my tone steady. “Where have you really been going every night, Jacob?”

He looked at me with wide eyes, his mouth opening and closing, no words coming out. I stood there, waiting for an explanation. The silence stretched on, growing heavy with each passing moment.

Now, here is my question: If you found out your partner lied about caring for a sick relative, would you confront them right away, or would you try to investigate more to find out exactly what they have been hiding?