she followed him—on what he claimed was a “Saturday morning group run.” She kept her distance, heart pounding. She watched as Nick met up with a handful of sweaty, chatty runners. There were high fives, water bottles, stretching, bad jokes. No lies. No hidden child. Just sneakers and sweat. Finally, she asked. And Nick laughed. It turned out his running buddy had borrowed his phone to call his own daughter’s school when his died. The school’s system,
auto-saved the number—Nick’s number—as the contact. Simple. Silly. A complete misunderstanding. They both laughed until they cried. Now, every time Nick heads out in his running shoes, he calls back, “Off to see my secret family!” She rolls her eyes, but smiles every time. And when he crosses that marathon finish line, she’s always there—cheering the loudest, knowing some trust issues don’t need therapy… just a little jog to clear the air.