My wife, Camille, is French, and her fluency in her native language often leaves me feeling like an outsider at family gatherings. Hoping for a lifeline, I invited my friend Nolan to dinner with Camille’s parents, seeking someone to converse with. During dinner, amid routine chatter, Nolan’s demeanor suddenly shifted, urging me to check under our bed urgently.
Reluctantly, I discovered a mysterious black box containing unsettling revelations—incriminating photos and love letters to a man named Benoit. Overwhelmed, I fainted, waking later in a hospital, Nolan by my side. His knowledge of French had deciphered Camille’s secretive conversation, hinting at hidden truths under our bed.
Confronting Camille, I learned her affair was sanctioned by her parents to ensure a French lineage. Despite her pleas, I chose divorce, supported by Nolan throughout the tumultuous process. Now single, I reflect on newfound liberation, no longer bound by deception.
