😲😲 In the supermarket my daughter whispered, “Mom, isn’t that Dad?” I looked where she was pointing and froze. My husband — even though he was supposed to be on a business trip. When my daughter was about to call out to him, I grabbed her hand: “Wait. Let’s follow him.” “Why?” “Just do it for me.” When I saw where my husband was heading, I froze…
In the supermarket my daughter suddenly whispered:
— Mom, isn’t that Dad?
I automatically looked in that direction and my breath caught. Walking between the aisles was my husband. The same walk, the same slight hunch of the shoulders, the same habit of lowering his head when he’s in a hurry.
But that was impossible. He was supposed to be on a business trip, in another city, and that morning he had called us from the hotel, complaining about the bad coffee.
My daughter took a step forward, ready to call out to him, but I tightly squeezed her hand.
— Wait. Let’s follow Dad, — I whispered.
— Why? — she breathed.
— Just do it for me, — I replied quietly, without taking my eyes off him.
We followed him, hiding behind the shelves. He moved quickly and purposefully, not looking at the products, not stopping. He passed the checkout lanes and turned into an area where customers usually have no reason to be.
A woman was waiting for him there, with neatly tied-back hair and a large bag in the cart. They didn’t greet each other.
She silently handed him a folded sheet of paper. He put it into his pocket, nodded, and disappeared behind a door marked “Staff Only”.
I stood there, unable to move, realizing one thing: my husband was not on a business trip at all. My legs carried me after him on their own, as if something invisible were pushing me forward. I grabbed the door handle and opened the door…
Continuation in the comments 👇
I pushed the door — and almost immediately ran into the chest of a man in a supermarket uniform. His badge read: Rick. He looked more like a security guard than an ordinary employee: broad shoulders, a tense jaw, a look that cut off any questions.
— You can’t go any further. Leave, — he said sharply, blocking the way.
— Let me through, — my voice trembled, but I didn’t step back. — My husband just went in here.
— I said leave, — Rick raised his voice, taking a step forward.
And at that moment something snapped inside me. All the doubts, the fear, the cold — everything burst out.
— That’s my husband! — I shouted so loudly that my daughter clutched my hand. — I have the right to go after him!
Two more employees rushed out from the back room. One of them looked at Rick in confusion.
— Rick, no one else went in here. Just Alex.
— Call him, — I insisted, feeling my heart pounding in my throat. — Now.
A few seconds later, he came out.
I looked at him — and couldn’t breathe. It was his face. The same brow line, the same shape of the eyes. But the look — empty, чужой… (foreign).
— Who are you? — he asked coldly. — I don’t know you.
— Enough, — I whispered, and with trembling fingers I dialed my husband’s number and put it on speaker.
Ringing. Answer.
— Hello? — came the familiar voice. — I’m at the hotel, the meeting is delayed.
Pause. Heavy. And suddenly the man in front of me turned pale.
— That’s impossible… — he breathed.
My husband on the line also went silent, then slowly said:
— If you’re seeing me… then you’re seeing my brother.
That’s how the truth came out. Two identical faces. Two lives. Two twin brothers raised in different families. They knew about each other, but their parents decided that each would live with one of them, and they would never meet.
And I stood there in the middle of the supermarket, understanding: it wasn’t an affair. It was a collision of destinies that none of us could have predicted.