When Chad’s French in-laws come over, he invites his friend, Nolan, along — to keep him company while Camille and her parents converse in French. While they have dinner, Chad discovers that Nolan understands French and reveals a family secret.
My wife, Camille, is as French as they come. We met at college when she was an exchange student studying International Politics, and we’ve been together ever since.
Camille’s parents live in France but visit us twice a year. I’ve learned a few odd words and phrases in French, but the language has yet to stick with me.
Other than mon chéri or various dishes from French cuisine, I don’t know much. Now, my in-laws are around, and it’s only been four days.
So, I decided to invite my friend, Nolan to have dinner and meet Camille’s parents. That way, I would also have someone to talk to.
Now imagine this:
We’re all sitting at the table, enjoying our bouillabaisse. Nolan and I talked about an audit at work, and Camille and her parents were happily chatting in French.
Everything seems fine, right? Wrong.
While mid-conversation about work, Nolan’s face goes as white as a ghost, and he nudges my arm firmly with his elbow.
“Go upstairs and check under your bed. Trust me,” he whispers urgently.
My first instinct was to laugh it off — it made no sense. But one look at his wide eyes told me that this wasn’t a joke.
“Excuse me,” I said to the table. “I’ll be right back.”
I reluctantly shuffled to my bedroom, feeling like I was stepping into some strange French noir film. I picked Camille’s silver silk robe off the floor and bent to look under the bed.
My heart was beating ridiculously fast like I was about to have a heart attack. But there it was — a lone black box.
I opened the box with shaky fingers, going through the contents quickly — I didn’t know if Camille would come looking for me. Then, toward the bottom of the box, was a series of photographs of Camille, wearing next to nothing.
My heart pounded harder and nausea rose through my body.
What have I just stumbled upon? I asked myself.
As I was about to put everything back, the world turned black.
It must have been hours later when I woke up in a hospital ward, surrounded by empty beds. The harsh light glared down on me as my eyes adjusted to the change of venue and the sharp smells of detergent.
“Woah,” I mumbled, my throat raw.
That’s when I noticed that Nolan was sitting next to me, his head propped up by his arm.
“You passed out in your bedroom, mate,” he said. “What happened?”
Then, it all came back to me. Camille’s box under the bed, my insatiable curiosity mixed with an overactive heart rate brought on by a panic attack.
But I did get a glimpse into the box. It turned out to be my own Pandora’s Box. There were incriminating photos of Camille, love letters to a man named Benoit, and little trinkets, all piecing together a tale of betrayal.
It turns out that Camille was hiding an affair.
“You were taking forever,” Nolan said. “So, I followed you, and I found you passed out on the floor. I closed the box and pushed it back under before calling Camille and an ambulance.”
“How did you know?” I asked, thinking about the warning Nolan had given me.
“I did French throughout high school, Chad,” he said. “While talking, I understood that Camille said something about hiding everything under the bed. I’m sorry.”
“Where’s Camille?” I asked.
“At the cafeteria, she said she needed to stretch her legs. So, she went to get coffee.”
I put my head back and thought of the letters that my wife had been receiving.
I got discharged the following day, and Nolan drove me home. Camille fussed over me, making me a healthy juice and ensuromg that I was okay. But of course I wasn’t. Nothing was okay.
That afternoon, I had to set the record straight. I couldn’t look at Camille and feel what I had felt before.
“I can’t continue in this marriage,” I said when Camille brought me a juice.
“What are you talking about?” she asked.
“I know about the black box under the bed.”
Camille turned pale.
“I can explain,” she said, jumping up.
“I saw more than enough, Cami. I don’t think your version of an explanation would change that.”
“Just listen,” she said. “My parents set up the meeting with Benoit. They wanted me to be with someone French — to have completely French children.”
I looked at her, wondering how she expected me to sit there and listen to more.
“So, after they arranged it,” she continued. “I met him. And we hit it off, and our friendship grew.”
“I want a divorce. Immediately,” I said, not wanting to listen to anything else.
Camille made a fuss, hurling accusations of me snooping and invading her privacy. She threatened not to sign the divorce papers when they came, but I told her that there was just no love left in our marriage after what she had done.
“Give me another chance,” she pleaded.
But I didn’t want any of it.
The divorce process lasted a few months, and Camille contested everything — from the house to spousal maintenance — and she even wanted me to pay for her tickets to France every year. I refused everything except the house. I didn’t want to be there anymore anyway. I’m living in a bachelor pad closer to my office now.
I’m heartbroken, sure. But at least now, I’m not living a lie. And that’s liberating.
I’m also grateful to Nolan for telling me the truth and staying by my side through the divorce.
Now, I wonder if Camille will end up with Benoit or not — I know her parents will love it if she does.
Poor Guy Escapes on His Wedding Day, 50 Years Later Bride Discovers It Was Her Father’s Plan – Story of the Day
Karl was forced to run away from his wedding, but Jessica never understood why he stood her up at the altar. Years later, she received a note in the mail with his name on it. No matter how much time had passed, Jessica never forgot him, and what he wrote was astonishing.
“You will leave this church immediately and never return. Do you understand me, boy?” Hubert Pennigton, Jessica’s father, threatened Karl with a stern look. They were standing in the men’s dressing room behind the church, and Jessica was getting ready just across the hall in the other room.
“I’m not a boy, sir. I’m a man, and I love your daughter. I will not abandon her. It’s our wedding day,” Karl insisted, pleading his future father-in-law to understand.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I never liked you two dating, and I’m not going to let this continue. My daughter will not be marrying a loser who works paycheck to paycheck,” the older man sneered. “Do you hear me? I have friends in high places, as well as connections in some others. I can make your life a nightmare. If you don’t disappear willingly, I’ll make you leave by any means necessary.”
“Is that a threat?” Karl asked, squaring up to Hubert, trying not to show how afraid he was. He knew Jessica’s family was connected to some important people and a few dangerous folks, too, so Karl knew the older man’s words were not in vain.
“I don’t make threats, boy, I make promises. Now, you will leave this place right now without anyone noticing and ghost Jessica forever, OR ELSE!” Hubert finished, raising his voice, in the end, to get his point across thoroughly. He poked his index finger in Karl’s chest painfully, gave him a disdainful look, and exited.
Karl didn’t know what to do. He truly loved Jessica, but her father would hurt them both just to get his way. He paced around the room for a few more minutes then decided to leave before his groomsmen came to find him. He was quick, exiting through the back of the Masonic Temple in Detroit, Michigan and hailing a cab right there.
“Where to, sir?” the taxi driver asked.
“DTW, please,” Karl replied. He was going to the airport and flying across the country to get away from these people. I hope Jessica can forgive me, Karl thought while resting his elbow on the window sill and facing out.
Fifty years later…
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
At 75, Jessica liked to sit outside on her porch and watch the kids running around Rosedale Park Historic District, one of the best neighborhoods in Detroit. She always took a cup of tea and a book to read. It was a peaceful time, but Jessica inevitably thought about her life during those times. Today was that kind of day.
She remembered her first wedding well, as it was the only time she was ever excited to have one. Karl was the love of her life, or so she thought. But when she reached the end of the aisle on her father’s arm, she saw everyone’s worried faces. Karl had disappeared, and no one knew why. They waited hours for him to return.
His groomsmen went to his house, and everything was intact. But Karl never returned, and Jessica cried on the steps of the Masonic Temple for several more hours. It was one of the best wedding venues in the city, and she always dreamed of getting married there. However, it was not to be. Her mother comforted her as best she could, but her father was actually happy.
Five years later, her father introduced her to Michael Keller, the son of a family friend. He was wealthy and connected, so her dad pushed until she accepted his proposal. They got married and had a daughter, Cynthia, almost immediately. However, Jessica filed for divorce the moment her father died.
Her husband had cheated throughout their entire relationship and was glad to separate from her, so it was a win-win situation for everyone involved. She took the then-six-year-old Cynthia, moved to her house in the Rosedale Park area, and forgot about her failed love life.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Years went by, and Cynthia grew up to become an amazing career woman. She got married right there at the Masonic Temple and gave Jessica three gorgeous grandchildren, who visited often.
I had a great life, Jessica thought to herself while sipping her tea. It was true, although she never tried dating again. But once in a while, she thought about Karl and still wondered why he had disappeared.
Suddenly, the mailman snapped her out of her inner musings with a bright smile and a loud, “Hello, Mrs. Pennington!”
“Oh, dear. You scared me,” Jessica answered after almost dropping her tea.
The mailman laughed and apologized humorously. “I’m sorry, ma’am. But I have a letter for you. I think someone wrote it by hand even. So fancy! People don’t do that anymore,” the mailman said, handing Jessica the letter. She thanked him with a smile, and he left, waving goodbye.
The last thing she expected to see was the name “Karl Pittman” on the envelope, but it was right there along with her name and address.
“I can’t believe this,” she breathed and settled her cup of tea on the porch railing with a shaking hand. Suddenly, she was back at that church, crying on her mother’s shoulders.
Her hands still shook as she tried to open the envelope. She took a big breath before starting to read what was Karl’s unmistakable handwriting.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Dear Jessica,
I don’t know if you’ll be glad to hear from me. But after all this time, I want you to know that not a day goes by where I don’t think about you. Your father threatened me on our wedding day, and I was young and afraid. I shouldn’t have listened, but I did, and I ran off. I moved to California with nothing but the clothes on my back.”
Jessica had to stop reading for a few moments and wipe a few tears off. She knew her father had something to do with it. She knew Karl loved her and wouldn’t have done it otherwise. It didn’t change anything, but it soothed that old ache that never went away. Karl was right to leave. Her father never made threats he wasn’t serious about and didn’t take “no” for an answer. She focused on the letter again and continued reading.
“I never married nor had children. You were the love of my life, and I wanted nothing else. I hope this letter finds you well. I’m leaving my phone number, and there’s my address, so you can write me back if you want. I don’t know how to use Facebook, and all that stuff kids have these days. But I hope to hear from you.
Sincerely, Karl.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Jessica’s tears kept falling for several minutes after finishing the letter, but then she laughed. She also had no idea how to use all that technology available these days. Therefore, she got up and went inside to find her stationery. It was time to write back.
For the next few months, they wrote to each other often, recounting even the smallest moments in each other’s lives. Until Karl finally called her and they stayed on the phone for hours. A year later, he moved back to Detroit, and they rekindled their lost relationship.
They were old and might not have much time together, but they were going to enjoy one another’s love for as long as they could.
What can we learn from this story?
- It’s never too late to find love again. Jessica gave up on relationships for many years until she found the love of her life again at 75.
- Tell your partner the truth. If Karl had told Jessica about her father’s threats, they could’ve run away together or dealt with it in some form. But he took off, and they would never know what could’ve been.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a man who stole his grandmother’s money, but she got her revenge.
This account is inspired by our reader’s story and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.
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