When Nella notices her husband, Eric, acting a bit strange, she follows him to see where he goes off to. A few nights into this new routine, she decides to just ask him the truth. But the truth is deeper and darker than Nella could have expected. And it changes her life forever…
It all started when my husband, Eric, told me he needed some space to think things through.
We’ve been married for 12 years, and while we’ve had our share of ups and downs, this was the first time he’d ever said something like that.
A newly wed couple | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not about us, Nella,” he insisted. “I just need time to clear my head.”
But of course, my mind went to the worst possible place.
Eric was always the steady one in our marriage. He was reliable, grounded, and calm. So, when he packed a bag and casually mentioned that he would be sleeping in his car for a few nights, my anxiety went into overdrive.
A man packing a bag | Source: Midjourney
Was Eric cheating? Was this his way of leaving me? Was this how he was going to slowly slip out of our lives?
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can give you space here, at home. You can take the guest room, or we can make the pool house into something cozier?”
“Nella,” he said, smiling slowly. “It’s not about us. But this is important to me, okay?”
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
For ten nights, Eric would leave the house right after dinner and return just before sunrise.
He looked like hell, honestly. His hair would be disheveled, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he would move very slowly like his body just didn’t want to cooperate.
But every single time I asked, he’d brush me off with a forced smile, saying that he just needed a break.
A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney
“I promise, it’s nothing like that. Trust me, please,” he would say whenever I pushed him about whether there was someone else.
But how could I? My imagination ran wild. I pictured him in a hotel room with someone else, living a double life.
By the fifth night, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I decided to follow him.
A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney
Honestly, I felt ridiculous. It was like some cliché out of a soap drama. But I had to know what was really going on. I waited until he drove off and tailed him a few blocks behind.
He didn’t go far. Just to the local park, where he pulled up under a tree and killed the headlights.
I parked a little farther down the street and watched from the shadows. I was nervous, like I was expecting something… or someone to get into the car. Was this where Eric’s mistress met him?
But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that nobody was going to show up. He just sat there, staring at his phone, then stretching out with his pillow and blanket.
A car parked in a park | Source: Midjourney
It was just him, alone, in the dark.
For the next few nights, the same routine played out.
Eric would go to the park, curl up in the front seat, and spend hours there before driving home. My mind was just spinning.
Why would he sleep in his car unless he was hiding something? Why suffer through all that discomfort unless it was for someone else?
A man sleeping in a car | Source: Midjourney
On the tenth night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had had enough. I needed answers. After putting the kids to bed, I locked them in and drove out to the park. This time, I wasn’t just going to watch from the sidelines.
No, we were too far into this.
I pulled up next to his car and tapped on the window.
Eric looked up, startled. He quickly unlocked the door and motioned for me to get in. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, and as I slid into the passenger seat, all my emotions came rushing to the surface.
A shocked man sitting in his car | Source: Midjourney
“What the hell is going on, Eric?” I demanded. “Why are you doing this? Be honest, are you seeing someone? Is that why you’re here? Are you afraid that the kids would see or find out?”
I spoke too fast, as though all the words just needed to fall out as quickly as possible.
Eric sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. I could see the exhaustion in him now, the kind that went deeper than just losing sleep. It was like he’d been carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down.
A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not like that, I keep telling you. There’s no one else.”
“Then what is it?” I pressed on. “You’re scaring me, Eric. Why are you out here every night?”
He glanced at me, then reached into the backseat, pulling out a small stack of books and a recording device.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly. “Because I just didn’t want to worry you. But I’ve been out here recording bedtime stories for the kids.”
A stack of children’s books | Source: Midjourney
I blinked slowly.
“Bedtime stories? Why would that worry me?”
He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. “I went to the doctor a few weeks ago. They found something, a tumor. A biopsy was done, and the results came back. It’s cancer, Nella. And it’s bad. Borrowed time is all I have.”
A doctor’s office | Source: Midjourney
It felt like the ground had crumbled beneath me. I couldn’t breathe.
“What?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to put that on you,” he said. “I wanted you to be normal around me, and with the kids. But I also wanted to make something for the kids to remember me by.”
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed his hand and held it tightly, as the reality of what he’d been hiding hit me all at once. This wasn’t about some other woman.
This was about my husband preparing for a future that I didn’t want to imagine.
“I refuse to let you go through this alone,” I said. “We’re going to face this together, Eric, whatever it takes.”
He nodded, tears slipping down his face, just as they slipped down mine.
A crying woman | Source: Midjourney
The months that followed were a blur of doctor’s appointments, treatments, and nights spent huddled together, clinging to each other as we tried to stay hopeful.
Eric spent all this time with the kids, playing with them and taking them on walks if he could manage it. He made them pancakes for dinner and pizza for breakfast.
He told them that they could choose their Halloween costumes months in advance.
Children in Halloween costumes | Source: Midjourney
And he fought harder than I ever imagined, but despite everything, the disease was relentless. He’d known from the start that the odds were against him.
He’d known it when he started recording those stories in his car, preparing for the worst while still trying to give us the best of himself.
“I’ll try for as long as I can,” he promised me one night when we were in bed. “But I’m getting… tired.”
A voice recorder on a table | Source: Midjourney
“I know, my love,” I said, gripping his hands under the covers. “Whatever you do, listen to your body, too. Rest when it tells you to.”
Eric passed away in the quiet hours of a winter morning. I remember the stillness of the house, how empty it felt without him there. Our kids, so young and full of life, didn’t yet grasp the enormity of the loss.
But they sat at the funeral, looking glassy-eyed and lost.
A funeral setting | Source: Midjourney
Just like me.
A few days after the funeral, when the house was filled with the muted sounds of family members and well-wishers, I finally felt ready to listen to those recordings.
I went out to his car and took the recorder out of the bag he had left it in. I scrolled through the files, seeing the familiar titles of the kids’ favorite stories.
A voice recording device | Source: Midjourney
But then, one caught my eye:
Our Story.
I took a deep breath and pressed play. His voice was warm and steady and filled the space around me instantly.
“Once upon a time,” he began. “There was a princess. She was kind, smart, and braver than any knight in the land. But most of all, she had the biggest heart anyone had ever known.”
I smiled.
An upset woman | Source: Midjourney
“One day, she met an ordinary man, just a guy from a village with no title, no riches. But the moment he saw her, he knew his life would never be the same.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened, his voice wrapping around me like a hug I so desperately needed.
“The princess and the man lived many happy years together,” he continued. “Raising a prince and princess together. And even though the man grew old and weary, he knew that his princess would go on. She would continue to rule their home… with love and strength.”
Eric’s voice faltered on the last words. I could almost imagine his upset face.
A crying man | Source: Midjourney
“So, my love,” he said softly. “If you’re listening to this, know that you were my fairytale. You turned my ordinary life into something extraordinary. And even though I can’t be with you anymore, your fairytale must go on.”
It was just what I needed.
And now, whenever the days feel too heavy, I listen to Eric’s voice again. And somehow, I can smile again.
A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you:
My Husband Surprised Me on My Birthday — When I Saw Who Jumped Out of the Gift Box, I Broke Down in Tears
As Amelia’s 30th birthday approaches, her husband, Jared, keeps hinting at a major surprise for her, causing her imagination to grow wild. On the day of her birthday party, she discovers that her birthday surprise is a man who she never wanted to see again…
I could tell that something was up. My husband, Jared, had been buzzing for weeks about this “life-changing” gift. Every day, another cryptic comment came my way.
“You’ll love it, babe, trust me!” Jared would say, practically bouncing on his feet.
An excited man | Source: Midjourney
When I asked him about it, he’d just smirk and say, “You’ll see!”
Honestly, by the time my birthday party rolled around, I was convinced that it was something practical. Like maybe an appliance, or the recliner with the massage functions I’d been eyeing. I would have been happy with the ice cream machine that I wanted, but honestly, Jared’s enthusiasm made me feel good that he’d gone to so much trouble.
“You’re worth all the effort, Amelia,” he said. “I just want you to feel special and know that I listen and I care.”
A recliner with a green bow | Source: Midjourney
So when he walked in on my birthday, he struggled to roll in a massive gift box much bigger than our washing machine.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Filho faz mãe idosa em cadeira de rodas chorar em restaurante e pede desculpas quando o dono intervém – História do dia
Um jovem levou sua mãe deficiente a um restaurante, mas a ignorou até que ela deixou cair seu copo de água. Ele a repreendeu por isso, fazendo-a chorar, e o dono se levantou com raiva e fez algo surpreendente.
“Isso é legal”, Emily disse ao filho, Dean, depois que a garçonete pegou o pedido e saiu com os cardápios. Ela queria chamar a atenção do filho porque ele estava focado somente no celular.
“É, claro”, ele murmurou, os olhos grudados na tela. Mas, de repente, ele olhou ao redor. “Gostaria que não estivéssemos tão perto do banheiro, mas com sua cadeira de rodas, não podemos sentar em nenhum outro lugar.”
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
Emily tentou ignorar aquele comentário indireto e bebeu um pouco de água do seu copo. “Ainda assim, é legal que estejamos juntos depois de tanto tempo. Como vai a faculdade? Suas aulas? Tem alguma coisa interessante acontecendo no campus?” ela se perguntou, curiosa sobre seu filho.
“Fiquem quietos e sentem-se”, disse o homem, chocando Dean e Emily.
Dean raramente ligava depois que ele foi para a faculdade, e Emily sabia que ele estava encontrando seu caminho e amava a independência. Crescer com uma mãe deficiente não deve ter sido fácil, mesmo com os cuidadores que ela às vezes contratava. Ela queria que ele aproveitasse sua própria vida longe desses problemas. Ainda assim, seria ótimo ouvir dele.
Portanto, ela o convidou para uma refeição especial e teve que implorar, implorar, implorar antes que ele aceitasse. Ela até o subornou com o relógio caro de seu falecido avô. Talvez tenha sido por isso que ele veio, afinal. Mas ela iria olhar o lado bom.
“Ah, está tudo bem, tanto faz”, ele suspirou, um canto da boca se erguendo como se não fosse nada.
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
Mais uma vez, Emily pegou seu copo de água para um gole, mas acidentalmente o derrubou contra a mesa e o vidro se espatifou no chão. O estrondo foi tão ensurdecedor que o restaurante inteiro olhou para o lado e, finalmente, Dean levantou os olhos do telefone.
“Pelo amor de Deus! Eu não consigo nem ter um jantar agradável sem você fazer uma cena e as pessoas nos observando. Eu não queria vir, mas você continuou me enchendo o saco! Deus, mal posso esperar para que essa noite acabe,” Dean explodiu com mais vitríolo do que Emily já tinha ouvido.
Os olhos dela estavam arregalados com o choque da explosão dele, e ela sabia que as pessoas ainda estavam assistindo. A voz dele ecoou por todo o restaurante. Finalmente, lágrimas se juntaram em seus olhos, e ela começou a soluçar baixinho. “Ok, vamos agora”, ela disse em meio aos gritos.
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
“Ótimo!” Dean disse e agarrou sua cadeira para pular.
“Espere um minuto!” um homem se aproximou deles. Emily olhou para cima e viu a expressão de raiva em seu rosto. Suas sobrancelhas estavam franzidas, seus lábios virados para baixo no canto, e as rugas em sua testa estavam mais proeminentes no brilho amarelo da iluminação do teto.
“Não vamos comer aqui. Cancelem nossa comida”, disse Dean, acenando com a mão em desdém. Mas o homem balançou a cabeça.
“Cale a boca e sente-se”, disse o homem, chocando Dean e Emily. Mas seu filho sentou-se lentamente como se estivesse com medo. “Ouvi sua pequena explosão alguns segundos atrás, rapaz, e tenho que lhe dizer que foram as palavras mais chocantes que já ouvi. Tenho conversado com minha equipe por perto, e entendo que esta é sua mãe. Como você pôde falar com ela daquele jeito?”
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
“Eu – eu não fiz”, Dean gaguejou.
“Você não fez o quê? Você sabe que eu daria tudo para ter minha mãe comigo novamente. Ela me ensinou tudo sobre a vida, amor, esperança e sonhos e me criou de forma independente. Assim como esta linda mulher aqui, ela também era deficiente. Ela tinha uma condição que a impossibilitava de trabalhar em um emprego normal. E apesar de tudo isso, ela me criou. Eu nunca passei fome. Eu nunca fiquei carente. Eu suspeito que esta mulher fez o mesmo por você”, continuou o homem. “Hoje, sou dono deste restaurante e de muitos outros em Chicago. Tudo por causa dela. E ela não viu meu sucesso.”
Dean olhou para o próprio colo com vergonha enquanto Emily olhava para o dono do restaurante, totalmente focada na história.
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
“Então, ligue para sua mãe. Fale com ela. Você a tem aqui! É o maior privilégio que você terá! Seja melhor! Caso contrário, não importa o que você faça ou quanto dinheiro você ganhe, você nunca será conhecido como um homem de verdade”, o homem terminou, respirando pesadamente.
Emily olhou para o filho e ficou chocada ao ver lágrimas escorrendo pelo seu rosto. Mas antes que ela pudesse dizer qualquer coisa, Dean olhou para cima. “Sinto muito, mãe”, ele disse com a voz embargada. Seu rosto estava enrugado, e Emily queria abraçá-lo para tirar a dor.
“Oh, meu Deus”, ela disse, e ele pulou para abraçá-la, pedindo perdão novamente.
“Ok, meu trabalho está feito. Sua comida vai sair em breve, e alguém virá para recolher aquele vidro quebrado rapidamente”, disse o dono, que mais tarde se apresentou como Sr. Harris, batendo palmas e indo embora.
Apenas para fins ilustrativos | Fonte: Pexels
Dean sentou-se novamente, guardou o telefone, enxugou as lágrimas e começou a falar. “Bem, minhas aulas são boas. Um pouco chatas…”
Emily sorriu, secando o próprio rosto. O resto do jantar foi fantástico, graças às palavras de repreensão do Sr. Harris. E Dean nunca mais maltratou a mãe.
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