Lisa discovers a suspicious text on her husband’s phone.

When she invites the sender over, hoping to find more information, she gets way more than she bargained for.

So, my husband, David, asked me to answer his Mom’s call when he was in the shower.

Routine stuff; we answered each other’s phones all the time.

After telling David’s mother we would fetch her for her weekend visit the following morning, I put the phone down.

But then, a message popped up that turned my world upside down.

Please don’t tell Lisa yet. We’ll do it together.

At that moment, I was convinced that David was cheating on me.

I sat there on the edge of the bed, listening to the water and David humming in the shower.

My mind spiraled to a dark place. David and I had been together straight out of high school — he was all I knew.

And I was all he knew. But the thought of him being with someone else terrified and angered me simultaneously.

That night, after David had showered, we both settled to watch a movie in the living room.

But I couldn’t concentrate on the sounds of gunshots from the action movie that David had chosen.

“Honey, I’m going to bed,” I told him. “You can finish the movie, though, before coming up.”

Then, I did something I never thought I would do. I snooped through David’s phone. It was right there, at his bedside. There were no love notes, secret rendezvous plans, or sneaky photographs — but they were talking about me. About where I worked and what I enjoyed doing for fun. And on it went.

Without thinking, I replied.

Come over tomorrow, my place, at 2 p.m. Lisa will be at work.

The next day, as I sat in front of my laptop trying to work, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life was about to change.

At 2 p.m., the doorbell echoes through my house, sending my heart rate into overdrive. I opened the door looking into the face of a woman who seemed so familiar — but I couldn’t place her.

Her eyes widened when she saw me. “Are you Lisa?” she asked. “I’m Gloria.”

Panic set in. I couldn’t understand why I was so shaken. Even if David was cheating on me with this older woman, I should be the furious one — not panicked because she stood on our doorstep.

I held the door open for her, letting her come in. “I’m your mother, Lisa,” she said.

The room swayed as I struggled to comprehend the weight of Gloria’s words.

I knew I was adopted — my parents had told me early on. They even showed me a photograph of my biological mother when I was pretty young.

“Tell me everything,” I said, walking to the kitchen.

“You were born out of love, Lisa,” Gloria explained. “But circumstances forced me to give you up for adoption. Your father and I were only fifteen. We were children going to have a baby. My father refused for me to have you. He was worried about how it would reflect on him.”

Gloria paused.

“My mother tried to let me keep you, but in the end, he took you away in the middle of the night. He took you to a hospital and left you there. You must have been four days old.”

I silently worked around the kitchen, making hot chocolate as she spoke.

I had always wanted to know my story, but all I knew was that I was left at a hospital with a photo tucked into my blanket. Inscribed on the back were the words Gloria Manson, 1987.

We were about halfway through our hot chocolate and toast — my comfort food — when David walked in.

“Oh honey,” he said, looking at me. “I didn’t know how to tell you, Lisa. Gloria contacted me months ago, and I’ve been helping her reconnect with you.”

“David’s wanted to tell you about me for a while. I kept telling him not to,” Gloria explained. “I needed to get my bearings first. Up until last night, he wanted to tell you.”

That explained the text. “Why did you both wait so long?” I asked.

I felt betrayed. David had known for months. I know that he wanted to protect me, but there were just some things that needed to be told immediately.

“I was afraid, Lisa,” Gloria said. “How do you tell your child that you were barely a teenager when you had her and that her grandfather took her away?”

I sat back, trying to figure out how I felt.

“There was a photo of you,” I said. “It was left with me. My mother showed it to me on my sixteenth birthday, but I didn’t know how to do about it.”

“I’ve watched you from a distance,” Gloria said. “My father recently gave me a few details about you, and through the hospital, I discovered who you were.”

From how Gloria spoke, I knew she wanted to be a part of my life.

“I understand if you’re angry or confused,” she said. “But I needed you to know the truth. I’m here if you want to get to know me.”

At that moment, all my anger dissolved. Sure, I felt deceived, but I had always longed for a connection between my birth mother and me.

And here it was, the opportunity waiting for me to grab it.

It’s been a year since Gloria has been welcomed into our family. I’ve discovered that my biological father lives in South Korea with his family, wanting nothing to do with Gloria or me — which isn’t a problem for me.