Confession 1: I found photos of my dad with…..

My hands are shaking as I try to get this out. I… I don’t even know where to begin. Have you ever stumbled across a secret so huge, so… gut-wrenching, that it feels like your whole world might collapse? That’s what happened to me. Last week. And I’m still not okay.

It was just a normal day, you know? My brother and I were in the garage, helping my parents with some renovations. Nothing special—just dragging out dusty boxes, brushing away cobwebs, joking about how Mom hoards junk. I wasn’t looking for anything. Why would I? But then… I saw it. Tucked behind a pile of rusty tools, there was this small, metal box. It was dented, heavy, like it had been hidden on purpose. My stomach twisted the second I touched it. I don’t know why. Call it a bad feeling.

I hesitated, my fingers hovering over the latch. I could’ve walked away, left it buried. But curiosity—it’s a dangerous thing. I opened it. Inside were letters. Old photographs. At first, I thought it was nothing—just some forgotten memories, maybe from before my parents got together. I almost laughed it off. But then I unfolded the first letter, and… oh God. My heart stopped. Like someone ripped the air out of my lungs.

It was addressed to my dad. In this looping, unfamiliar handwriting. From a woman. Not my mom. The words… they hit like a punch. “It’s a shame we can’t be together,” she wrote. “I’m glad I can see you at least once a month.” My hands started trembling so hard I nearly dropped it. I kept thinking, *This can’t be real. This has to be old, right? Before Mom.* I wanted it to be nothing. I *needed* it to be nothing.


But then I saw the photos. My dad, smiling, standing next to her. She was… beautiful. And the way he looked at her? I know that look. It’s how he looks at Mom. Except… these pictures weren’t old. His hair, his clothes—they were recent. Too recent. And the letters? The dates on them… not even ten years old. Some were newer. My chest tightened, and I felt sick, like the ground was slipping out from under me.


I stood there, alone in that dim garage, clutching that damn box, my mind racing. *What do I do?* I kept shaking it, like somehow it would change what I’d seen. I dug through every letter, every photo, each one worse than the last. Words about secret meetings. Promises. Lies. My dad—*my dad*—living this whole other life. And me? I was holding the proof, burning a hole through my heart.


Since that day, nothing feels the same. I can’t look at my parents without feeling like I’m drowning. My mom… she’s so happy, so trusting. She loves him with everything she has. She makes him coffee every morning, laughs at his stupid jokes. And he… he’s been lying to her. To us. To me. Every time I see him, I want to scream, to demand answers. But I can’t. I’m too scared. What if I tell her and it breaks her? What if it breaks *us*?


I’m trapped. Every night, I lie awake, those letters playing over and over in my head. Her voice—her words—haunting me. I feel so guilty, like I’m betraying Mom by keeping this secret. But telling her? That feels like betrayal too. I’m angry, I’m confused, I’m… lost. It’s like I’m carrying this weight, this ticking bomb, and I don’t know how to stop it from exploding.


I keep imagining confronting him. Storming into his office, throwing the letters in his face, demanding to know *why*. But what if he lies again? Or worse… what if he doesn’t? What if he admits it, and I have to live with that truth forever?


So… I’m stuck. Powerless. Every day, I’m living a lie I didn’t choose. And I don’t know what to do. If you were me… if you found something like this, something that could tear your family apart… would you tell? Would you risk destroying everything? Or would you bury it, hide it deep, and try to pretend you never saw it? Could you live with that? Because I’m not sure I can.