I woke before dawn, ironing Lucas’s new school shirt. It was his first day of first grade, and I wanted everything perfect. Travis, my husband, slept on the couch again, an empty beer can nearby. Lucas had been asking for weeks if his dad would come. I promised he would. That morning, Lucas smiled up at me. “Daddy’s coming, right?” “Of course,” I said, forcing it. But when it was time to leave, Travis rolled over and said he’d meet us later. My stomach tightened. At school, I kissed Lucas goodbye. Moments later, Travis finally arrived, disheveled and distracted.
As I turned to leave, I realized I’d forgotten Lucas’s water bottle. When I came back, I heard the teacher say, “Jamie, sweetheart.” Lucas smiled and walked right over.
Jamie?
He didn’t correct her. Travis stood there, calm. I asked Lucas later why he answered to another name, but Travis brushed it off. Something felt deeply wrong. After school, Travis announced a surprise father-son trip to Grandma’s. It sounded planned. He sent me home in a cab. Instead, I told the driver to follow them.
They stopped at a house I didn’t recognize. Lucas ran straight to the pool like he’d been there before. A blonde woman stepped out. Travis kissed her. She was Jenna—Lucas’s teacher. When confronted, Lucas explained quietly, “Daddy said to pretend I was Jamie. It made her happy.”
My heart broke. Travis admitted Jenna had lost a child named Jamie. He thought this was harmless.
It wasn’t.
That night, I went to his mother and told her everything. I packed Travis’s things and ended the marriage. Because while he built a secret life, I chose the truth: my son and I would never be part of anyone’s lie again.
