It started out innocently enough - I got home from work and wanted to do some laundry consisting of my work clothes to start the week off on a productive note. I fumbled down the stairs with our large basket, sleeves of shirt draping over the edges.
I thought I would be a nice girlfriend and wash some of my boyfriend’s miscellaneous clothes from his hamper. I set the basket down and started to place small piles from the basket into the washer. That’s when I saw it.
It felt soft. The colour was actually quite pretty. But it wasn’t mine. I didn’t know whose it was.
Watch: The worst excuse we've used for a breakup. Post continues after video.
I pulled a long-sleeved shirt from the top of the basket - where I had put my boyfriend’s pile. I stared at it for a minute, swallowing the lump that was swelling in my throat. He wouldn’t be home for several hours, and I didn’t want to call him and discuss this over the phone.
A hundred thoughts crammed their way into my mind. I was sure this meant he was cheating. I had never seen this shirt before. It didn’t belong to any of my friends, and I was only washing my work clothes. I knew the shirt had come from his pile, but I couldn’t understand what possible explanation he could have for this.
By the time he got home that night, I was a wreck. I had been crying. He instantly knew I was upset and rushed to my side. When I confronted him, he was confused. I pulled out the shirt from behind me and laid it out on the table. He stared at it for a moment, and I could see him racking his brain. I hoped it wasn’t for an excuse or lie.
When he finally began to speak, he seemed defeated.
"Remember when we went to my parent’s house last weekend?" he asked. I nodded. "This shirt belonged to my ex-girlfriend, Kyra. I grabbed some stuff, including clothes, that I had been keeping at my parent’s house. All that stuff used to be in my apartment with her. This shirt must have found its way into my clothes, and I just didn’t notice it when I was taking stuff. I am so sorry," he confessed, tears welling in his eyes.
My first instinct was that he was lying. I was always so afraid of being the girl that was being lied to - the girl who was being made a fool of, and who would believe anything even if the truth was painfully obvious.