I’m 16, and lately, my dad’s been acting weird—coming home late, smelling of perfume that isn’t Mom’s. I brushed it off at first. People change, I told myself, and maybe he’s just stressed from work. But then his phone buzzed one night while he was in the shower. A text lit up the screen: “Last night was amazing, can’t wait to see you again.” Not from Mom.

I didn’t confront him right away. I carried the secret like a lead weight, trying to convince myself I’d misunderstood. But the signs only got clearer—more late nights, hushed phone calls, and an unexplained giddiness that had nothing to do with us. Every time I saw my mom laughing at his jokes or leaning into him for a kiss, it felt like I was watching a lie unfold.

The breaking point came yesterday. We were at my grandparents’ house for dinner, the kind of cozy evening filled with roast chicken and family banter. Dad had been acting like his usual charming self, cracking jokes and telling stories like he didn’t have a secret life. It was almost convincing. Almost.

Then, out of nowhere, he started going off on me about my attitude. “You need to learn some respect,” he said, loud enough for the whole table to hear. “You’re 16, not 6. Stop acting like you know everything.”

I sat there, seething, as everyone fell quiet. My mom glanced at me nervously, like she could sense the storm brewing. And then it spilled out.

“Hard to respect you when you cheat on Mom.”

The room froze. Forks clattered against plates, and the air grew so thick you could cut it with a knife. My dad’s face drained of color, then flushed crimson. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. My mom stared at him, her expression flickering between confusion and dawning horror.

“Excuse me?” she said, her voice trembling.

“I didn’t—she doesn’t—” My dad stammered, his confidence cracking like glass. “This is ridiculous.”

“Is it?” I shot back. My hands were shaking, but I didn’t care. “You’ve been sneaking around for weeks. I saw the text, Dad. Don’t lie.”

My grandparents exchanged shocked glances, clearly unprepared for this kind of family drama at the dinner table. My mom’s face went pale, her hand gripping the edge of the table like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

“Text?” she whispered, turning to my dad. “What text?”

He stammered again, but it was too late. The truth was written all over his face. Mom pushed her chair back, standing up so abruptly it screeched against the floor.

“Is this true?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Are you seeing someone else?”

“Beth, please,” Dad started, but she cut him off.

“Answer me!”

The silence that followed was deafening. My dad’s eyes darted around the room, looking for a way out, but there wasn’t one. Finally, he let out a sigh and dropped his head into his hands.

“It’s not what you think,” he muttered.

“What I think?” Mom’s voice broke. “So there’s something to think about?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he said, his voice low. “It just… happened.”

Tears streamed down my mom’s face as she turned away, her shoulders trembling. My grandparents tried to intervene, but it was like throwing water on a wildfire. Dad tried to reach for her, but she pulled away.

“I need to leave,” Mom choked out. “I need to think.”

She grabbed her coat and left, the door slamming behind her. I sat there, my heart pounding in my chest, unsure if I’d done the right thing. My dad slumped in his chair, looking smaller than I’d ever seen him.

“You had no right,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper.

I didn’t reply. Because maybe I didn’t. But as I stared at the empty chair where my mom had been, I couldn’t help but feel like the truth, no matter how ugly, had finally been set free.