Margaret, a lonely career woman, eagerly awaits the arrival of Colin, a man she met online. But just hours before he is due, a call from a friend leads her to a nearby cemetery. There, she is horrified to see a photo of Colin on another man’s grave. Is Colin really who he claims to be?
The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the pristine furniture as Margaret cleaned the house.
She had always kept her home immaculate, a reflection of her orderly and disciplined life. Every corner was spotless, every item in its place. Cleaning was a routine she found both comforting and necessary, a way to fill the void in her life.
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All her life, Margaret had prioritized work and setting up her own life. At nineteen, she was already living alone, working two jobs as a cook to pay for her education.
By twenty-five, she was building a career as a restaurant manager and saving for her own restaurant. Her hard work paid off, and by forty-five, Margaret had everything—a successful restaurant, a beautiful house, and a nice car.
Yet, despite all her achievements, personal happiness had eluded her. She always thought that once she set up her life, a family would come naturally. But when she realized she wanted and needed a family, it was too late.
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Margaret had little experience in interacting with men and even less in building a family. At work, the men were intimidated by her position and her success.
She was respected but also seen as unapproachable. Finding a partner at forty-five turned out to be much harder than she had ever imagined.
As Margaret continued cleaning, her phone suddenly chimed with a message. She paused, her heart skipping a beat, and quickly took out her phone. A smile spread across her face when she saw it was a message from Colin.
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She had recently met Colin online, and their communication had developed quickly. Colin understood Margaret; they talked about books, movies, food, and their views on the world.
They had so much in common, but there was a problem. Colin lived in another city, and they hadn’t met yet.
Margaret had been afraid to suggest meeting because she had lied about her age. She told Colin she was thirty, fearing he would reject her if he knew the truth.
She never thought their relationship would progress this far, but now she was ready to meet him in person. She typed out a message: “Colin, we’ve been talking for over a month now, and I really want to meet you.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Fakedetail
Margaret felt anxious, like a teenager waiting for his response. She kept checking her phone repeatedly, getting frustrated and putting it back face down.
Finally, the reply came, “That’s a great idea, Margaret. I really want to meet too, but I have nowhere to stay in the city. I don’t like staying in hotels.”
Without thinking, Margaret replied instantly, “No problem, stay with me!”
Realizing that her offer might be interpreted as an intimate suggestion, she began to write that she didn’t mean it that way. But Colin responded quickly, “Great, I’ll arrive tomorrow evening. I can’t wait to meet you!”
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Everything was set; she would meet Colin tomorrow. Margaret was overwhelmed with emotions. She was happy to finally meet him but also scared.
She had lied to him about her age, and she feared that when he found out she was much older, he would leave her.
She paced around the living room, her thoughts racing. She imagined their first meeting, worrying about how he would react. But it was too late to back out now; she had to go through with it.
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The next day, Margaret was a whirlwind of activity, preparing for Colin’s arrival. She meticulously cleaned the house, ensuring every corner was spotless.
She decorated the kitchen with fresh flowers and set the table with her best dishes. The aroma of a delicious dinner filled the house as she cooked Colin’s favorite meals, ready to warm up and serve when he arrived.
Everything was ready. As the evening approached, Margaret’s excitement and nerves grew. She was just about to sit down and relax for a moment when her phone rang. Seeing it was her colleague, Alice, she answered quickly.
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“Margaret, hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I have a very urgent request,” Alice said, her voice sounding strained.
“I’m listening, Alice. Did something happen at the funeral? Maybe I can help?” Margaret asked, remembering that Alice was supposed to be at a funeral that day. She had requested a day off from work for it.
“I feel so awkward asking this, but my car is stuck nearby,” Alice explained, sounding embarrassed.
“Of course, I’ll help. I’ll be there in ten minutes, don’t worry!” Margaret responded without hesitation.
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Margaret wanted to support Alice, understanding that if Alice had called her, it wasn’t just about the car. Most likely, she was struggling to cope with her husband Nathan’s death. So she quickly grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
As she drove, Margaret thought about Alice and how hard it must be to deal with such a loss. She hoped that helping Alice would provide some comfort.
Despite her own nervousness about meeting Colin, she felt a strong sense of responsibility to be there for her friend in need.
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Arriving at the scene, Margaret found Alice standing beside her car, looking helpless and distressed. Without wasting any time, she got to work. She attached Alice’s car to hers with a tow rope and quickly pulled it out of the ditch.
The task was surprisingly easy, almost as if Alice could have done it herself. Margaret brushed off her hands and turned to Alice.
“All set,” Margaret said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
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“Thank you so much, Margaret,” Alice replied, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
As they stood by the side of the road, Alice’s composure crumbled. She broke down in tears, unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer. Margaret stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting hug.
“It’s just so hard,” Alice sobbed. “Ever since Nathan died, everything feels impossible. I thought I could handle today, but I can’t.”
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Margaret’s heart ached for her friend. She knew how much Alice loved Nathan and how difficult the past few months had been for her. “I’m so sorry, Alice. It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Alice wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Would you walk with me back to his grave? I can’t bring myself to go alone. The guests have left, and I can’t bear the thought of going home to an empty house without him.”
“Of course,” Margaret said softly. “I’ll be right beside you.”
They walked together through the cemetery, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and freshly turned earth.
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Margaret supported Alice by the arm, offering silent comfort as they moved between the rows of headstones.
As Margaret gazed around the cemetery, her eyes were drawn to a photo on one of the nearby graves. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the face. It was a picture of Colin.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She walked closer, her heart pounding, and compared it to the photo she had seen in Colin’s online profile. It was the same person.
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At that moment, fear and confusion washed over Margaret. What could this mean? Who had she been talking to all this time? She felt a chill run down her spine.
Margaret carefully took out her phone and sent a message to Colin, her hands shaking. “Hi, is everything still on for today?”
The reply came quickly, “Yes, of course, I’ll be there at eight!”
Margaret didn’t know what to think. She was scared, her mind racing with questions and doubts, but she knew she needed to find out the truth.
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There had to be some explanation. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, or perhaps there was another explanation she hadn’t considered.
She turned to Alice, giving her one last supportive squeeze. “Alice, I need to go. But please call me if you need anything. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Alice said, her voice weak but grateful. “You’ve done so much for me today.”
Margaret said her goodbyes and drove home, her thoughts a jumble of fear. As she navigated the familiar streets, she tried to calm herself. She needed to be composed and ready for Colin’s arrival, no matter what happened.
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Everything was ready: a set table, flowers, and a delicious dinner. Waiting by the door, her mind whirled with thoughts and emotions, especially the mysterious photograph at the cemetery.
As she waited by the door, peeking out the window, her mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what awaited her, who was coming to her home, and the mysterious photograph she had seen at the cemetery.
Finally, she saw a car park near the house. Her heart raced as she watched a man step out, holding a bouquet of flowers.
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But when Margaret saw his face, she was shocked. He didn’t look like the man in the photos at all. Panic set in, and Margaret quickly hid behind the door, unsure of what to do.
Colin approached the door and rang the bell. Margaret remained silent, her mind racing with fear and confusion. The doorbell rang again, but she didn’t move. Finally, Colin spoke, his voice gentle and apologetic.
“I know you’re inside, Margaret. I can understand why you’re not answering. I don’t look like the man in the photos. I’m really sorry.”
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Margaret’s heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated, but then she heard Colin placing the bouquet down at the doorstep. “I’ll leave these here and go,” he said. “I’m sorry for the deception. I just wanted to meet you so badly.”
As he turned to leave, Margaret couldn’t take it anymore. She opened the door, her voice trembling. “Wait.”
Colin stopped and turned around, his eyes meeting hers. He looked relieved to see her. “Margaret, I’m so sorry. I can explain.”
They stepped inside, the tension between them palpable. Margaret took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Why did you lie about your appearance, Colin?”
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Colin looked down, his expression filled with regret.
“It’s hard for me to meet someone. I have almost no experience in relationships. I was very anxious and created a profile with a photo of a handsome man because I thought no one would be interested in the real me. I wanted to tell you many times, but I was afraid you would stop talking to me.”
Margaret listened, her heart softening. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Colin. What matters is that you didn’t lie to me about who you are inside.”
Margaret gasped, feeling a pang of guilt. “I lied too. I said I was thirty, but I’m actually older… I’m forty-five. I was worried you wouldn’t want to meet someone so old…”
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Colin stepped closer, looking into her eyes. “Age doesn’t matter to me, Margaret. You’re beautiful, and I’ve enjoyed every conversation we’ve had. I’m just glad we’re finally meeting in person.”
A smile spread across Margaret’s face. “It’s funny, isn’t it? We both pretended to be someone else because we were afraid.”
Colin chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yes, it is. But maybe that’s a sign that we have more in common than we thought.”
Margaret felt a sense of relief wash over her. “Would you like to come inside? We can have dinner and start over, without any lies this time.”
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Colin smiled warmly. “I’d like that very much.”
They walked inside together, leaving the flowers on the doorstep as a reminder of their fresh start. As they sat down for dinner, they talked and laughed, sharing their true selves with each other.
The fear and uncertainty began to fade, replaced by a growing connection and understanding. They both knew that building a family couldn’t be based on lies, and this honest beginning was the first step toward something real and lasting.
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My Ex-husband Came to My House with an Envelope Yesterday — Now I Don’t Want to See My Mother Anymore
The last person Isabel expected to see was her ex-husband, standing on her porch, gripping an envelope like his life depended on it. “Izzy, please,” he pleaded. “Just open it.” “Why would I?” She snapped. He swallowed hard: “BECAUSE IT’S ABOUT YOUR MOM.” What she saw inside shook her to the core.
I never thought I’d be the kind of woman who filed for divorce just days after her wedding. But I did. And yesterday, something happened that made me realize I’d been wrong about everything: Betrayal doesn’t just come from the person you marry. It can come from the person who raised you…
A woman placing her wedding ring on the table | Source: Pexels
It started when my ex-husband — technically “ex” for only a few days — showed up at my door, holding a thick envelope in his hands.
“Please don’t slam the door in my face,” he pleaded. “Izzy, please… Just open it. You need to see this.”
My fingers trembled on the doorknob. “Why would I? Josh, I can’t do this. Not now. Not ever. Go away.”
“Because it’s about your mom. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be. You know that.”
My stomach twisted. “My mom?”
I should’ve slammed the door. I should’ve told him to get lost. Instead, I just stood there, gripping the edge of the doorframe so hard my fingers ached.
Then he handed me the envelope.
A sad man holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney
“Just look at these photos,” he said. His eyes — God, his eyes — looked wrecked.
Josh was “the cheater.” The liar. The reason I walked away from my marriage. Why was he standing here, bringing up my mother?
I snatched the envelope from his hands and ripped it open. And when I saw what was inside, MY BLOOD TURNED TO ICE.
A startled woman holding an envelope | Source: Midjourney
Let me back up so you understand why this hit me like a shockwave.
Josh and I weren’t some whirlwind romance. We’d known each other since high school.
He was the boy with paint-stained hands, worn-out sneakers, and a smile that could break your heart. The one who spent his days sketching in the back of the classroom and never cared that people whispered about his thrift-store clothes or the fact that his dad had walked out when he was 12.
I loved him anyway.
But my mother? She hated him.
A romantic couple lost in love by the sea | Source: Unsplash
She called him “a boy with no future,” the kind of person who would only “drag me down.” So when I left for college in another state, she was thrilled. I was free of Josh. And for years, she believed that was for the best.
Until six months ago.
I had just moved back to my hometown. One night, I walked into a bar, and there he was. Josh. Older and rougher around the edges, but still him.
“Isabel?” he’d said, his voice soft with disbelief. “Is that really YOU?”
I remember how my heart had stuttered seeing him there. The years had been kind to him — he’d grown into his lanky frame, and those artist’s hands now bore calluses from hard work. But his eyes… they were the same ones I’d fallen into at 17.
A man smiling in a bar | Source: Midjourney
“I never thought I’d see you here again,” he’d said, sliding onto the barstool next to mine. “Last I heard, you were conquering the corporate world in Chicago.”
I smiled, twirling my glass. “Things change. I missed home. And everything dear to me.”
One drink turned into two. And two turned into a long walk under streetlights.
“Remember that time we snuck into the art room after hours?” I asked, laughing. “You were so determined to finish that painting before the exhibition.”
He grinned, nudging my shoulder. “And you were my lookout. Worst lookout ever, by the way. You got distracted by a stray cat.”
“Hey! That cat needed attention!”
And before I knew it, we were falling in love again.
Cropped shot of young lovers holding hands | Source: Unsplash
Within a month, we were married. Fast? Sure. But when you love someone and when you’ve always loved them, what’s the point in waiting?
The wedding was small — just us and a few friends at the courthouse, followed by a reception at a luxurious hotel. Josh had surprised me by booking the honeymoon suite, even though I knew it must have stretched his budget.
“You deserve everything,” he whispered that night. “I’ll spend my whole life trying to give it to you.”
I believed him. God, I believed him with every fiber of my being.
Newlyweds holding hands in a sunlit field | Source: Unsplash
That night, I was out with my friends for an after-wedding party. Josh had been exhausted, so he went up to our hotel room early to sleep.
Two days later, I got the damning photos — Josh, passed out in a hotel bed with a WOMAN beside him… at the same hotel where we had our wedding reception.
He swore he didn’t remember anything. Swore he had gone to bed drunk and alone. But what was I supposed to do? The proof was right there. So I filed for divorce.
Close-up shot of a couple in bed | Source: Pexels
“Please,” he begged. “Please, Izzy, you have to believe me. I would never —”
But I’d already stopped listening and started packing.
And now, here he was, standing on my porch with an envelope, telling me I’d been WRONG.
My hands shook as I flipped through the photos.
The first one was from a hallway security camera. It showed a woman — the same woman from the pictures that destroyed my marriage — standing outside Josh’s hotel room.
But she wasn’t alone. She was with another man.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered. “What am I looking at?”
A puzzled woman looking at a picture | Source: Midjourney
Josh’s hands were clenched at his sides. “Keep going. Please.”
I swallowed hard and flipped to the next photo. The timestamp was two minutes later. The woman and the man were leaving the room.
That made no sense. Two minutes?
“The timing,” I said, my voice shaking. “This can’t be right.”
A woman walking away | Source: Pexels
“It is,” Josh added. “I’ve checked the timestamps a hundred times.”
I looked up at him, my throat dry. “What… what is this?”
Josh exhaled. “It’s proof. I told you I didn’t cheat, Izzy. I was drunk, passed out, and someone staged the whole thing.”
My mind raced, trying to piece it together. “But who would…? Why would anyone…?”
I flipped to the last photo. And that’s when I felt my stomach turn inside out.
It was taken outside the hotel. My MOTHER was in it.
She was standing with the woman and the man, handing them money.
A rich older woman holding a wad of cash | Source: Midjourney
I stumbled back like I’d been slapped. “No. No, that’s not —”
“I knew something wasn’t right,” Josh said. “I got a job at the hotel, in security, just to access these. And this? This is the truth.”
I stared at the picture, bile rising in my throat. My mother. Paying them off. Paying them to RUIN MY MARRIAGE?
The car ride to my mother’s house was a blur.
Josh sat beside me, silent, his hands gripping his jeans. But neither of us spoke.
A car on the road | Source: Unsplash
The same streets I’d driven a thousand times before now felt foreign and hostile. Each familiar landmark was a reminder of a childhood filled with my mother’s “guidance” and her constant need to shape my life into her vision of perfection.
“Pull over,” Josh said suddenly.
I jerked the wheel, bringing the car to a stop beneath a sprawling oak tree. The same tree I used to climb as a kid, while my mother called out warnings about ruining my clothes.
“You’re shaking,” Josh said softly.
I looked down at my hands on the steering wheel. He was right.
Close-up shot of a woman driving a car | Source: Unsplash
“I don’t know if I can do this,” I whispered.
“We can turn around.”
I shook my head. Not until we pulled into my mother’s driveway. “No. No, I need to know why. I need to hear her say it.”
“You don’t have to do this, Isabel.”
I swallowed, my grip tightening on the steering wheel. “Yes, I do.”
Twenty minutes later, I marched up to the front door and banged on it.
A distressed woman standing outside a building | Source: Midjourney
A few seconds later, my mother opened it, wearing her usual carefully polished smile. The same smile she’d worn when she helped me pack my bags after the wedding. When she told me I was “better off without Josh.”
“Isabel, sweetheart! I wasn’t expecting —”
I threw the photos at her chest. “What the hell is this?”
She caught them, startled. Her eyes darted down. And in that moment, I saw it. The flicker of recognition. And guilt.
Then, just as quickly, she masked it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t,” I snapped. “Don’t you dare lie to me. You did this. You destroyed my marriage. WHY?”
A rich older woman standing at the doorway | Source: Midjourney
Her lips pursed. “I did what was best for you.”
I laughed. “Best for me? You ruined my life!”
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice taking on that familiar condescending tone. “I’ve watched you make mistakes your whole life, Isabel. Running around with this boy in high school, wasting your talent on childish dreams —”
“My mistakes were mine to make!” I shouted. “You had no right!”
Josh stepped forward. “You wanted her to think I cheated. You wanted her to leave me.”
She lifted her chin, unfazed. “She deserves better than you.”
An annoyed older lady pointing her finger at someone | Source: Midjourney
“Better?” My voice cracked. “Better than someone who spent weeks working security shifts just to prove his innocence? Better than someone who never stopped fighting for us?”
I felt my hands tremble. “Better than someone who actually loves me? Better than someone who would go to any lengths to prove the truth?”
My mother sighed, rubbing her temples like she was exhausted. Like I was still that difficult child who needed to be corrected. “Sweetheart, be honest with yourself. You were going to end up like him. Struggling. Broke. A failed artist’s wife. I gave you a chance to escape that life.”
A disheartened young woman | Source: Midjourney
I took a step back, my vision blurring with pure, unfiltered rage.
“You didn’t protect me. You didn’t care about my happiness. You cared about controlling me.”
Her jaw tightened. “You’ll understand someday. When you have children of your own —”
“No,” I cut her off, my voice ice-cold. “I will never understand this. And if I have children, they’ll never know you. Never know what it’s like to have their lives manipulated by someone who claims to love them.”
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.
“I do. You’re not my mother anymore.”
And I walked away.
Josh and I sat in my car for a long time. Neither of us spoke.
A heartbroken woman sitting in the car | Source: Midjourney
The setting sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink — the same colors Josh used in his paintings. I wondered if he still painted. Although we’d been separated for a short time, it felt like we had lost years… memories, moments, and pieces of each other we could never get back.
Finally, I turned to him. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Josh swallowed, his voice rough. “You don’t have to be.”
I shook my head. “I do. I let her manipulate me. Again. Just like she always has.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Do you still love me?” he then asked, shattering the stillness around us and in my heart.
Tears burned my eyes. “Yes.”
His breath hitched. “Then let’s fix this. Together.”
I nodded, gripping his hand like a lifeline. Because the truth was, I had lost my mother that day. But maybe, just maybe, I hadn’t lost my husband.
A couple holding hands in the car | Source: Pexels
This morning, I stood in our shared apartment, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and the smell of fresh paint. Josh’s easel sat by the window — he’d started painting again, filling our space with colors and light.
“Look what I found,” he called from across the room.
I turned to see him holding an old photograph. Us at 18, covered in paint after an impromptu art room session. My mother had hated that photo… said it was “undignified.”
“We were happy,” I said softly.
Josh set the photo down and hugged me. “We still are.”
I leaned into him, breathing in the familiar scent of paint and coffee. “I got another message from her today.”
“And?”
“I didn’t read it.” I closed my eyes. “Some bridges stay burned.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
He kissed my temple. “Are you okay?”
I thought about the girl in that old photograph. About the woman who let her mother’s fears become her own. About the person I was becoming now… stronger, freer, and truly loved.
“Yeah,” I said. “I really am.”
Because sometimes the hardest choices lead us home. Sometimes letting go of the past means finding your future. And sometimes, the family you choose becomes the family you were always meant to have.
Josh and I might not have had the perfect wedding, or the perfect start. But we had something better… the truth. And in the end, that was all we needed. That, and each other.
A couple embracing each other | Source: Unsplash
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