Life is funny in that it can take you by surprise at any time and completely upend your perspective. I experienced something similar after learning a ground-breaking fact about the person I was in love with. I’m Jonathan, and until a few weeks ago, I believed I understood everything. I’m just a regular guy living a straightforward life.
Mary and I have been married for six years, and our lovely little daughter, Jazmin, is ours. This spirited five-year-old with my rebellious streak and her mother’s dark eyes is the joy of my life. Jazmin is the type of child who can bring a smile to your face simply by entering the room.
About Mary, she has always been my pillar of support.
She is the type of woman who is self-assured, organic, and at ease in her own flesh; she doesn’t need to put on airs. That was one of the things that initially drew me to her. You know, Mary has never been one to wear statement pieces or makeup.
In all the years we’ve been dating, I believe I’ve only seen her wear her one pair of high heels maybe twice.Mary has consistently said that wearing heels is extremely unpleasant and that she is not like makeup.
That’s something I’ve always admired about her: her genuineness. However, something hasn’t been right recently, and I’m not exactly sure what it is.It all began approximately one month ago. After work, I would be worn out but excited to see my daughters when I got home. And there would be Jazmin, stumbling around in those exact same high heels, beaming with pride akin to a peacock and wearing an ear-to-ear grin. “Like Mom, I’m a princess!” She would chirp, her little voice beaming with happiness.
I would always pick her up, give her a kiss on the cheek, and tell her, “Jazzy, you are the most beautiful princess in the world.” She would chuckle and put her tiny arms around my neck. However, as the days went by, that persistent feeling began to surface. Why is this taking place? Where was she getting the inspiration for the lipstick and heels? It was nonsensical. Mary never applied lipstick or wore heels. The last time I saw her, she was usually just wearing her flats and maybe some lip balm. It gnawed at me more and more the more I considered it.
I sat at the dinner table one evening, exhausted from another exhausting day, and pushed my food around my plate, trying to make sense of it all. Jazmin was on the floor in her customary location, and Mary was singing as she cleaned the dishes. She was playing with her dolls, who had similarly developed small, lipstick-like crimson streaks on their faces. I made the decision at that point that I could no longer ignore it. I beckoned Jazmin near me and gently lifted her onto my lap.
“Hi Jazzy, you always say you look like Mom, but Mom never wears heels,” I said in a lighthearted manner.She gave me a wide-eyed look, as though I had just stated the most perplexing thing ever. “She does.” Jazmin urged, giving a passionate nod. “Every day that you report for duty.” My heart skipped a beat. “You mean, like, every day?” She clarified, her voice full of that infantile confidence, “Mommy has so many heels.” “She picks them up and delivers me to Aunt Lily’s place. In the car, I witness her applying red lipstick before she drives off.
Time simply stopped at that very moment, I promise. I tried to take in what my daughter was saying as I looked at her, my mind racing. Heels? Lipstick? Leaving her at Lily’s? “Jazzy, are you sure?” My question came out as no more than a whisper. “You see Mom with lipstick and heels?” She nodded again, showing no signs of awareness of the growing panic rising in my chest. “Yeah, right! Daddy, she looks very nice. However, she doesn’t wear them while you’re not around.
I was reeling within, even though I was trying to maintain a neutral appearance. What was taking place? Was Mary… Did she have something to hide from me? Betraying me with falsehoods? Mary decided to enter the dining room at that precise moment and use a dish towel to dry her hands. She turned to face the two of us, her smile as genuine and gentle as ever. Now though, the smile turned my stomach.She approached Jazmin to fluff her hair and inquired, in a fun way, “What are you two whispering about?” I managed to say, “Nothing, just talking about princesses,” though my voice sounded strange to me. However, I was inside
howling. What was happening with my spouse? Why was our daughter seemingly more knowledgeable about it than I was? The following morning, I was sat in the car with my hands clenched around the steering wheel until my knuckles became white.
I gave Mary a short kiss on the cheek before leaving the house before dawn, telling her I had an early meeting. She had smiled at me while half asleep, oblivious to my true intentions. After circling the block a few times, I parked a short distance down the street, where our front door was still visible. I was having trouble thinking clearly and my heart was racing in my chest. Mary left the house at precisely 8:30 a.m., looking exactly like she usually did: with her hair pulled back, no makeup, and her go-to trousers and top. It was also not unusual that she had a tote bag hanging over her shoulder.
After waving briefly at Jazmin, who was playing with her dolls in the window, she headed down the driveway to her car. As I’d seen in those detective shows, I waited until she had driven off before following her and staying a few cars behind. I had the feeling of an amateur detective, only with far higher stakes because this was my wife’s life.It took us roughly twenty minutes to reach a parking lot from her. Upon passing the door, I decelerated upon seeing the sign that read “Radiance Modeling Agency.” My heart almost stopped. Why is she in this place? Without a doubt, this was not the IT firm she had informed me about.
I parked where I could see the building’s entrance—on the opposite side of the lot. I observed her as she exited the vehicle and entered. A thousand distinct ideas, each more perplexing than the previous, were racing through my head. I have to be aware of the situation. Trying not to get too nervous, I walked towards the building after a few minutes. As the glass doors glided open, I entered a bustling foyer full with activity.
There were a lot of young ladies moving around, clutching portfolios and conversing with what appeared to be stylists and photographers. I had the impression that I had entered a whole new planet. I noticed Mary conversing with a tall woman wearing a stylish black dress close to the registration desk. After a little conversation, the woman gave Mary a bag containing clothes. Bewildered, I watched as Mary grinned, grabbed the bag, and walked back toward a pair of double doors. I followed her, not really thinking about it, and I slipped into the room right before the doors closed. It seemed like an other universe within. There were tons of mirrors, bright lights, and racks upon racks of glitzy clothing.
A photographer set up his gear on the far side of the room’s huge platform, which served as a runway.For an instant, Mary vanished behind a curtain, leaving me motionless. I had no idea what to do. Do I go up to her now and confront her? Should I hold off to find out her true intentions? She emerged from behind the curtain before I could make up my mind, and I swear, my mouth dropped to the ground. She had changed. The bare face and the basic clothing had vanished. Her hair fell in loose curls about her shoulders, and she wore a lovely crimson dress that caressed her in all the right places. She would apply cosmetics, including smokey eyes and a vivid red lipstick. She appeared… stunning. as if she were someone entirely else. Watching her go on the runway with confidence radiating from her had my heart racing. She
breathed deeply, and then she started to saunter down the runway as if a switch had been thrown. Her movements were graceful and her steps were deliberate. The photographer captured every moment with a quick click of the camera. I was seeing things that I couldn’t believe. Here my spouse, the one who’s always insisted on seeming comfortable and genuine, was leading a double life as a model. How come she hadn’t told me? Anger, bewilderment, and hurt tightened in my chest at the notion of her holding this secret. I held off on moving till after the photo shoot was finished and she was back to wearing her everyday attire. I emerged from behind a nearby column and saw her making her way to her car.
I shouted out, “Mary,” attempting to maintain my composure. She whirled around, horror ringing her eyes. Jonathan? Why are you in this place? I inhaled deeply, attempting to control my feelings. “I could pose the same query to you. I recently saw you modeling, even though you told me you had a job at an IT business. She appeared to have been caught red-handed, and for a brief while, she remained silent. She let out a big sigh and sagged like though the world had just collapsed on top of her. “Jonathan. I apologize for not telling you,” she started. “I’ve always wanted to be a model, but I thought you wouldn’t get it. When I had the chance, I was powerless to resist. I was only doing it for the pleasure and the rush, not for the money. However, I also thought that by acting in this way, I was betraying the qualities you hold dear about me. For this reason, I kept it from you. I didn’t want my failures to disappoint you.
Her remarks really got to me. Her anxiety that I might condemn her or love her less because of this was evident in her eyes. All of a sudden, it all made sense. This was her way of protecting herself from herself, from the worry that she wasn’t living up to the person she felt she should be, rather than from me out of spite or lying. Mary, I whispered quietly as I drew nearer. You should not feel guilty for going for your dreams. Natural or not, I love you for who you are. I’m with you if this brings you joy. Please just assure me there won’t be any more secrets.
Tears filled her eyes as she glanced up at me, and for an instant I thought she may cry. Rather than that, though, she nodded, a tiny, grateful smile peeking through. She muttered, “I promise,” her voice full of emotion. “I’m grateful, Jonathan.
“I encircled her in my arms and held her close, feeling as though just one hug would solve all of the grief and confusion. And at that very moment, I realized that our love was powerful enough to embrace the parts of ourselves we were too scared to reveal, the fantasies we kept concealed. I took a small step back and used my thumb to wipe a tear off her cheek.
In an attempt to lighten the situation, I added, “By the way, I think Jazmin makes a pretty good princess too.” She laughed at that, really laughed, and that eased the tension between us. “She does, isn’t that right?” Mary asked, her eyes gleaming. That’s when we both started laughing, and suddenly a secret that might have kept us apart grew closer to one another.
