The Secret We All Hide

The Secret We All Hide

Part 1

He didn’t look at me when I walked into the house.He was buried in his laptop, headphones on.“Work,” he said.

I didn’t say anything.Just noticed one AirPod had fallen under the couch.I found it the next day.

I put it in my ear.Once upon a time, I might’ve felt guilty.

There was no music.Just a voice.A woman’s voice.Laughing.

And then a phrase:“Do you like pretending we don’t exist?”

I didn’t say a word.

I left the AirPod there on the coffee table, just like that:Charged. Ready. With her voice still inside.

I wanted to see if he’d realize I’d found it.If anything would change.

Nothing changed.

Over the next few days, I noticed small things.A coffee straw with lipstick in his car.A delivery slip with a name I didn’t recognize —in our mailbox.

So I did something I’m not proud of.I made a fake account.

I messaged him.As someone else.

He didn’t take long to reply.

He wrote:

“I wish I could introduce you…but we live together.She’s not ready to leave yet.”

Part 2

I didn’t confront him.I wanted to see how far he’d go.How much he’d lie — or how much he’d hide.

So I waited.Watched.

I left the AirPod exactly where he’d see it.Right on the coffee table.A little too obviously placed.He noticed it.Paused.Then put it in his pocket, like nothing happened.

But something had happened.And it didn’t stop there.

The next morning, I checked his phone while he was in the shower.No messages.No calls.Clean — too clean.

Almost like it had been prepared.

And then I noticed the Notes app.A single entry:

“If she asks, deny everything.Smile. Keep it boring. She gets tired quickly.”

It didn’t hurt.Not the way you'd expect.

It felt like confirmation.

So I made a choice:If he was going to perform…I’d write the script.

Part 3

Something changed after that day.Not in him.In me.

I didn’t feel hurt.Not even angry.I felt… clear.

Like a noise I’d grown used to —the sound of doubt —had finally gone quiet.

I packed a bag.Not everything. Just enough.Enough to not trigger panic —just emptiness.

I left a handwritten note on his nightstand:

“I’m not leaving because you hurt me.I’m leaving because I’m no longer someonewho stays to be hurt.”

And beneath it, I left my AirPod.Not his.Mine.

The one with my voice recorded.

“We can pretend all you want.Just not together.”

Part 4

His side.

She didn’t look back when she left.Just a note and an AirPod.Not mine — hers.

She thought I wouldn’t notice.That I’d feel guilt.Confusion.

She never understood.

I dropped that AirPod under the couch.I made sure she’d hear what I wanted her to hear.

There was no other woman.The voice? It was from a podcast.The only real thing… was her imagination.

And I knew it would consume her.It always did.

She wanted control?I let her think she had it.

She wanted to test me?I played along.

She wanted to leave?I’d prepared for that long before she made the decision.

Because here’s the truth:

You don’t leave a woman like her.You let her believe she left you.

Part 5

He didn’t react to the note.Didn’t call.Didn’t chase.

That told me everything I needed to know.Not about him —about me.

I didn’t want him to confess.I wanted him to care.

But he didn’t.

And the voice on that AirPod?I knew it wasn’t real.I’d known from the start.

What I didn’t know was that he wanted me to find it.He was testing me too.

But here’s the part he doesn’t get:

I knew it was a game.And I played it better.

Because I also left a second AirPod —hidden, recording.

And this time, the voice wasn’t hers.It was his.

Part 6

The ending, or maybe just the start.

Maybe there was no villain.Maybe there was no victim.

Just two peopleplaying a gamethey were both too proud to quitand too scared to win.

Maybe love isn’t what we hide.Maybe it’s the lie we both agreed to believeuntil someone finally says:

“I know.”

🟡 What’s real? What’s performance?And in the end…Who hurt who first?

A person sharing their story on Linkofliar.