I found My Mother-In-Law's Underwear in My Husband's Room. The Truth is Chilling-10

I found My Mother-In-Law's Underwear in My Husband's Room. The Truth is Chilling-10

New "Evidence"
Trembling, I extracted it: plain cotton women’s underwear, generously sized. The care label frayed, but the name—"Barbara Miller"—stitched crudely, glared unmistakably. Fresher than last, no mustiness—instead, faint clean soap aroma. Recently laundered? Just placed? Clutching it, blood froze. Once coincidence? Twice? The prior piece I hid. When and how did this arrive?


Confrontation
Fury and icy dread collided. This time, no evasion! Marching to the living room, I flung the nude panties onto the coffee table before David. He lounged on the sofa, scrolling phone carelessly. The fabric drifted silently but struck like a boulder. "What is this?" My voice strained like a fraying wire. He looked up—expression freezing—panic flashing before forced composure. "What?"


Feigned Ignorance
"Stop pretending!" I shrieked, sharp and alien. "The drawer! Your underwear drawer! First pink, now nude! All stamped Barbara Miller! Buried deep!" Finger shaking, I jabbed at the garment. "Explain this! Why here?!" Silence engulfed the room. His calm shattered—lips parted soundlessly, eyes darting away.

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