My wife was determined that our seven-year-old son should learn to play the guitar, so she arranged lessons with a 25-year-old instructor. One day, she wasn’t feeling well, so I took our son to his lesson instead. During the drive, he suddenly started crying. I told him he didn’t have to go if he didn’t want to. To my surprise, he immediately stopped and said, “Mom says I have to, because I have talent like my dad.” That confused me—I don’t play any instruments.
Feeling uneasy, I decided to meet the guitar teacher myself. When I arrived at his home, I was shocked by what I saw. My wife’s favorite plant, lucky bamboo, sat in the corner. The furniture was teal—her favorite color. He even offered me the exact drink she prefers. Then I noticed a satin scarf draped over a chair, identical to one my wife owns. It felt like far too many coincidences.
That night, I confronted my wife. She initially denied everything and accused me of being suspicious for no reason. But my doubts wouldn’t fade. Eventually, she broke down and admitted that she knew the teacher from college. She explained that they had briefly dated years ago but insisted nothing inappropriate was happening now.
Since then, my sense of stability has been shaken. I can’t stop wondering if there’s more to the story—and the thought of getting a DNA test for my son keeps haunting me. I feel lost and unsure how to move forward.