While I held our daughter’s favorite teddy bear in my hands, he was lying on a sunbed in Dubai, feeding strawberries to his mistress.

I found out everything. And it wasn’t by accident.

A month earlier, I had already sensed something was wrong. He started hiding his phone, leaving the room when it rang, “working late” almost eight days a week. I installed an app that saved backups of his messages and his location.

On the day of that so-called “important meeting,” I saw the photos. He was in a hotel with another woman. Laughing. Holding her hand. While I held the hand of our dead daughter.