Deep within my husband's closet, I discovered a pair of my mother-in-law's lace panties. Late-night phone calls, mysterious business trips, the locked bathroom door—suddenly, everything began to fall into place.

The Drawer
It was a weekend day, and I was tidying the wardrobe: storing away winter clothes, hanging summer ones. As the weather warmed, I casually organized the drawer where my husband, David Miller, kept his undergarments—his on the left, mine on the right, as always. I pulled open his side, noticing socks rolled decently but underwear folded haphazardly. Removing everything to reorder it, my hand brushed against something tucked away in the farthest corner. It wasn’t the cotton of socks or the fabric of his usual boxer shorts.

A Pink Swatch
Soft and slippery with a faint chill lingering on its surface, I tugged it out. Unfolding in my palm was a piece of pale pink fabric: women’s underwear, triangular in shape, edged with brittle, discolored lace. Far too large to be mine—I’m slight, and this was generously sized. Whose could it be? Instinctively, I checked the care label inside. Though most details had faded, one name remained legible: Barbara Miller. My mother-in-law. A wave of dizziness crashed over me.


Barbara Miller
The name pierced my vision like a needle. My mother-in-law’s clothing—an intimate garment—hidden deep in my husband’s underwear drawer? Fingers trembling, I clutched the scrap of fabric as the room fell silent. Only a sliver of light crept through the wardrobe door. Frozen in place, I wondered: How long had this been here? How untouched? Spreading it out, the material appeared worn, the pink dulled by time.

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