Every Time My Husband Lies, I Catch Him—Thanks to My Therapist, Who Taught Me How to Spot a Lie

When I married Adrian, I thought I had won the lottery in life. We were high school sweethearts who somehow managed to survive the whirlwind of college and early careers, coming out stronger on the other side. Adrian was the kind of man every woman dreams of; he was ambitious, driven, and incredibly charming.

He worked in finance, and as his responsibilities grew, so did the hours he spent away from home. At first, I was proud. My husband was moving up in the world, providing for our family, ensuring we had everything we needed.

But with three kids: Chris, our eldest, and our two daughters, Hope and April, life became a whirlwind. Adrian was rarely around to see the everyday chaos that defined our lives.

Mornings were filled with getting the kids ready for school, juggling breakfast with last-minute homework checks, and somehow making it to my part-time job without losing my sanity.

Evenings were no better, with me single-handedly managing dinner, baths, and bedtime stories. By the time I fell into bed each night, Adrian was usually still at the office, buried in work.

One evening, after finally putting the kids to bed, I sat down on the couch, exhausted. The house was too quiet, and the silence pressed in on me. I picked up the phone and dialed Adrian.

“Hey, love,” he answered, sounding distracted.

“Still at work?” I asked, trying to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

“Yeah, there’s just so much to do,” he replied, sighing heavily. “I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

I bit my lip, fighting back the frustration. “You’ve been working late a lot, Adrian. The kids miss you. I miss you.”

“I know, Freya, and I’m sorry. But this is just the way it is right now. We’re trying to land a big client, and if we pull this off, it’ll mean more security for us.”

“More security, huh?” I echoed, the words tasting bitter in my mouth. “It’d be nice to have a little more of you too.”

There was a long pause on the other end, and I could almost see him rubbing his temples, trying to ward off the guilt. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“Sure,” I whispered, but he’d already disconnected the call, going back to his work, which was somehow more important than me and his family.

The loneliness didn’t go away. It grew, creeping into every corner of my life. I found myself snapping at the kids over the smallest things, struggling to hold it together. That was when I decided to see a therapist.

I thought maybe, just maybe, talking to someone might help me make sense of everything, of the overwhelming burden of being both mom and dad, of the creeping doubts I didn’t want to admit even to myself.

Dr. Eileen was a warm, comforting presence in a way I hadn’t expected. Our sessions became a sanctuary where I could pour out my frustrations and fears without judgment. She listened, really listened, and slowly, I started to feel like I was regaining some control.

One day, during one of our sessions, Dr. Eileen leaned in with a conspiratorial smile. “Freya, have you ever wondered if people are being completely honest with you?”

I frowned, not quite understanding where she was going with this. “What do you mean?”

She chuckled softly. “It’s just that sometimes, in relationships, we tend to overlook certain signs. I’ve learned a few tricks over the years to tell when someone might be, let’s say, bending the truth.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I don’t need that — I totally trust my husband.”

And I meant it. Adrian might have been absent, but he was always honest with me, or so I believed. Still, something in her expression made me curious. “But go on, spill the secrets anyway.”

Dr. Eileen raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? It might change how you see things.”

I waved her off, smiling. “I’m not worried. Adrian’s the most trustworthy person I know.”

She hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, but remember, this isn’t about sowing distrust, it’s about awareness.”

I nodded, but inwardly, I was dismissive. Adrian had never given me a reason to doubt him. But as she began to explain the subtle signs that people unknowingly give when they’re lying, I found myself listening more intently than I wanted to admit.

I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had taken root after my session with Dr. Eileen. Adrian had always been the man I could trust, but now, her words echoed in my mind whenever we spoke. It didn’t take long for those doubts to start creeping into my daily life.

One morning, as I was setting out breakfast for the kids, Adrian came into the kitchen, already dressed in his usual sharp suit, his phone practically glued to his hand.

“I’ll be working late again tonight,” he said casually, barely looking up from his screen.

I paused, the butter knife hovering over the toast. “Again? What’s going on at work that’s keeping you so busy?”

He finally looked up, and I noticed his hand move up to scratch his nose, a gesture I’d seen a hundred times but never thought twice about until now.

“Just… a lot of reports to finish up. Management’s breathing down our necks,” he said, his voice light but his eyes darting ever so slightly to the right.

My heart skipped a beat. Dr. Eileen’s voice rang in my head, reminding me that people tend to look to the right when they’re making something up. “That sounds stressful,” I replied, forcing a smile. “Why don’t you let me come by with dinner tonight? You’ll need a break.”

He hesitated, then laughed — a little too loudly. “No need, really. I’ll grab something quick. It’s not a big deal.”

But it was a big deal to me. The doubt that had started as a small seed was now growing into something much more troubling. As Adrian kissed me on the cheek and headed out the door, I couldn’t stop thinking about Dr. Eileen’s tips.

That evening, I did something I never thought I’d do: I followed him. I dropped the kids off with my sister, telling her I needed some time to myself. Then, I drove to Adrian’s office, parking far enough away that he wouldn’t notice my car.

My heart was pounding in my chest, each beat echoing the fear and betrayal swirling inside me.

Hours passed, and I watched as the office lights turned off, one by one. Finally, I saw him emerge from the building, but instead of heading home or even grabbing a late dinner, he walked over to a group of men waiting by a car.

I recognized them, his colleagues. They were all laughing, joking around like they didn’t have a care in the world. They piled into the car and drove off, heading not to another business meeting, but to a nearby bowling alley.

Bowling. While I was at home, worrying and managing the kids on my own, he was out having fun with his friends. The realization hit me like a massive bomb, and I felt my anger bubble up to the surface. How many other lies had he told me?

When I got home, Chris was sitting at the kitchen table, pretending to study. The sight of my eldest son, his head buried in a textbook, brought me back to reality. I needed to keep it together, for them.

“How’s the studying going?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

Chris looked up, and I saw a flicker of something — was it guilt? — cross his face.

“It’s fine, Mom. Just going over some Spanish vocab.”

“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow. “How’s your teacher feeling about your progress?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, avoiding my gaze. “She’s happy with it. No complaints.”

But I remembered the note I’d found in his backpack just the day before, the one from his Spanish teacher, mentioning his missed assignments and warning about his slipping grades.

I crossed my arms and leaned against the counter. “Chris, are you sure? Because I found a note saying otherwise.”

His face went pale. “I… I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t want you to worry.”

The disappointment in my voice was evident as I replied, “I’m not angry about the grades, Chris. I’m upset that you felt you had to lie to me. We’re supposed to be honest with each other.”

He nodded, looking down at his hands. “This won’t happen again, Mom.”

Later that night, after the kids were in bed, I sat in the living room, waiting for Adrian to come home. When he finally walked through the door, I was ready.

“Long day?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

He nodded, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah, pretty exhausting.”

I bit my lip, then decided to dive in. “Adrian, how’s work been treating you? And what about your salary? Everything going well?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah, everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. And what about poker with the guys: are you still playing for money?”

He frowned, clearly confused by my sudden questions. “No, not really. Why?”

“I could see it all: his fingers tapping on the edge of the table, his hand touching his chin every now and then, and his eyes blinking rapidly: all signs that he wasn’t being completely truthful.

But when I asked him, point-blank, if he still loved me, his answer was different. He looked me straight in the eye, his voice steady and sincere. “Freya, I love you. I always have.”

The raw honesty in his voice shook me. But it wasn’t enough to erase everything else. I took a deep breath and finally said the words that had been sitting on my tongue since I followed him earlier.

“I know you’ve been lying to me, Adrian. I know you weren’t at the office tonight; you were out bowling with your friends.”

His eyes widened in shock, and he opened his mouth to deny it, but the truth was already out there. He knew it, and I knew it. “Freya, I—”

“If you want to save this marriage,” I interrupted, my voice trembling but firm, “you need to start being honest with me. And you need to be here for your family. We can’t keep doing this.”

He looked down, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry, Freya. I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll help more with the kids, I’ll be more present. I just… I didn’t want to burden you with everything.”

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes. “We’re supposed to be in this together, Adrian. I need you.”

He pulled me into a tight embrace, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were on the same page. The road ahead wouldn’t be easy, but maybe, just maybe, we could find our way back to each other.

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This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.