Husband Texts He’s in a Business Meeting & Cancels Our Date—I Saw Him Leaving Work at the Same Time

Leighton, after witnessing how her parents celebrated their anniversary, is sure about one thing — when she gets married, she will do just that. But when her anniversary rolls around, her husband skips their romantic dinner and lies about a meeting. Curiosity prevails, and Leighton follows Josh, only to find him at a motel with the first person he ever loved. Is there a hidden truth, or is the story exactly what it looks like?

I grew up in a home where anniversaries were important and had to be celebrated. It was just something that my parents always paid extra attention to.

My mother would bake a cake every year on their anniversary, even if my father had dinner plans for them.

A woman and little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels

A woman and little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels

“It’s important to celebrate a marriage, Leighton,” my mother would say.

And she would usually be decorating the cake at this point.

“I mean, you’ll understand it one day,” she said. “But married life is difficult, and that’s why you have to celebrate making it another year.”

A little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels

A little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels

Since then, I knew that if I ever got married, wedding anniversaries would be a big deal.

And then I met Josh, who seemed to understand the importance of it — or at least, the sentimentality of it all.

So, the other day was our sixth anniversary, and because it was the middle of the week, there just wasn’t going to be enough time to plan something intimate at home.

A newlywed couple at the beach | Source: Pexels

A newlywed couple at the beach | Source: Pexels

A dinner out was going to be our best option.

“It’s not a bad idea, Leighton,” Josh said when I told him that we had to settle on that.

“It’s much easier, anyway,” I said, thinking about the fuss of getting home and having to cook an elaborate dinner after a long day at the office.

The weekend before our anniversary, I went shopping and got Josh a new set of ties — my husband was into his tie collection and was always looking to add to it.

A couple at a restaurant | Source: Pexels

A couple at a restaurant | Source: Pexels

Then, on the day, I arranged to pick Josh up from work, excited for our romantic dinner at our favorite restaurant.

I left work a little earlier than usual and parked across the road from Josh’s building, waiting for him to leave work. I sat in the car, reapplying my lipstick and sorting my hair out. I sang along to the radio and waited.

Twenty minutes later, Josh still hadn’t come out. I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer either.

A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels

A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels

Eventually, I sent him a text:

Hey, honey! I’m waiting outside — I’m parked across the flower shop.

Not even a minute later, my phone pinged with a text message notification.

Caught up in a meeting, don’t wait for me. I’ll see you at home.

A flower shop exterior | Source: Pexels

A flower shop exterior | Source: Pexels

My heart sank. I understood the importance of work — especially because Josh loved his job, and he always brought work home, often going through spreadsheets in bed at night.

I was disappointed, I mean, it was our special day. But I knew that these things were sometimes beyond our control. I picked up my phone to reply before driving off.

A woman turning around in the driver's seat | Source: Pexels

A woman turning around in the driver’s seat | Source: Pexels

Sure, see you later.

Starting the car, I could only think about sinking my teeth into a sugary donut.

“You can’t keep eating your feelings,” I told myself. “But today calls for it.”

Just then, I saw Josh push open the building door, his briefcase at his side, and his phone in his hand.

A person holding a donut | Source: Pexels

A person holding a donut | Source: Pexels

He walked briskly to an unfamiliar car and slid in — not even glancing to see if I was around.

Moments ago, I could imagine eating a donut, now I could only taste confusion and betrayal thick on my tongue.

Of course, I followed him. I needed to know who was driving the car and where they were headed.

I needed to know who my husband would rather spend our anniversary with if not me.

A parked car | Source: Pexels

A parked car | Source: Pexels

I followed the car for about fifteen minutes before it started to slow down — we were just outside of town now. There were fewer buildings around, and it was quieter. If anything, the air seemed lighter and fresh.

“What are you up to, Josh?” I asked the silence around me.

A person driving down a lonely road | Source: Pexels

A person driving down a lonely road | Source: Pexels

Eventually, the car led me to a decrepit motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched, hidden by the shadows, as my husband got out of the car. Moments later, another man stepped out of the car.

He was also in a suit, holding onto a stack of paperwork. But he walked in another direction — to the motel office, it seemed.

A man in a suit | Source: Pexels

A man in a suit | Source: Pexels

Josh, on the other hand, walked straight up to a room. He knocked once, opened the door, and disappeared into a room.

I couldn’t sit back any longer. My feet moved on their own accord across the street, and there I was, outside the door that was slightly ajar.

A murmur of voices seeped out, spilling onto the pavement.

The exterior of a motel room | Source: Pexels

The exterior of a motel room | Source: Pexels

Pushing the door open, my eyes landed on a scene that knocked the wind out of me.

There was Josh, sitting at a little table, surrounded by paperwork. Directly across from him was a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman, it was Sophia — Josh’s first love.

I couldn’t understand what was happening. It was our anniversary, and Josh was here, in a run-down motel with the first woman he had loved.

It made no sense, but at the same time, a story seemed to be unfolding.

A couple sitting at a table | Source: Pexels

A couple sitting at a table | Source: Pexels

“Happy anniversary,” I said, the words laced with bitterness.

My husband leaped up, his face full of shock and his mouth hanging open.

“Leighton,” he said. “It’s not what it looks like!”

Sophia, her face flushed with surprise, began gathering the papers.

“Then what is it?” I asked. “You skipped dinner for whatever this is.”

My voice broke, teetering on the edge of anger and sorrow.

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

“No, Leighton, listen,” Sophia interjected, her voice calm, trying to soothe the storm.

“What are those papers for?” I asked.

I couldn’t see what they were, but my mind was convinced that they were divorce papers. Why else would my husband be sitting in a motel room with another woman?

A pile of paperwork on a table | Source: Unsplash

A pile of paperwork on a table | Source: Unsplash

“Darling,” Josh said, taking a step toward me. “We’re planning to buy this motel.”

“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised by the turn of events.

“We thought that it would make a perfect business venture,” Sophia said. “This isn’t about me, Leighton. I just have the contacts to help it happen. The man who drove Josh here is my husband. He’s sorting out the final paperwork with the owner, who happens to be his brother-in-law.”

My husband nodded earnestly, adding, “I wanted this to be our new start, something that you and I could build together. To create a legacy for ourselves. This was supposed to be official last week, but there was a delay with the owner.”

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

A smiling man | Source: Pexels

“We only had this evening to sign everything,” Sophia chirped in.

The room was thick with tension as I processed their words.

“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” my voice softened as my heart rate slowed down.

Sophia looked from Josh to me and back to the pile of paperwork. She helped herself to a piece of candy from the dish in front of her.

A bowl of candy | Source: Unsplash

A bowl of candy | Source: Unsplash

“I thought keeping it a surprise until everything was set would be… I don’t know, more special?” he said.

He looked down at the dirty carpet beneath our feet.

“So, what now?” I asked, looking at my watch.

“The moment my husband gets back with the signed documents, Josh can sign, and we’ll be done here,” Sophia said, picking up her handbag.

A woman holding her handbag | Source: Pexels

A woman holding her handbag | Source: Pexels

“Have a seat,” Josh said, pulling out a chair for me. “The moment I sign, we can get out of here.”

Sophia excused herself, claiming that she wanted to check out the vending machine because she was starving.

“You really just wanted this to be a surprise?” I asked Josh.

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been looking into property for a while now. I want it to be our safety net in terms of finances.”

A vending machine | Source: Pexels

A vending machine | Source: Pexels

We sat together and spoke for a little while longer before Sophia and her husband came in, carrying the stack of paperwork that I had seen him holding earlier.

“Almost done now,” Sophia said, handing Josh a pen.

A little while later, we were in my car, with Josh driving us home.

A person signing a document | Source: Pexels

A person signing a document | Source: Pexels

“I know it’s late, and that we have missed our reservation,” he said. “But let’s get some dinner anyway.”

We went to a diner not too far away from our home.

“No more secrets, Josh,” I said as our food arrived.

“I promise,” he said, reaching for my hand across the table, his eyes earnest.

As we drove home, I realized that although the night had not gone as planned, perhaps it needed to have been that way. With a promise renewed and a future venture to embark on together.

The exterior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels

The exterior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels

But as Josh showered that evening, I pulled out the anniversary cake that I had gotten the day before. As it had been my parents’ tradition, I wanted it to become ours.

I surprised Josh with the cake as he was getting into bed.

“This is better than a fancy dinner,” he said.

After seeing the motel, I know that there’s going to be a lot of time and dedication going into it. At least while we try to make it our own.

I have paint swatches and room layouts already planned in my head.

A woman holding a cake | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a cake | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?

I Was Just a Caregiver for an Elderly Lady Until She Revealed Her Plan to Rewrite the Will — Story of the Day

I thought I was just a caregiver for Mrs. Blackwood, a sharp-tongued, secretive woman, until her plan to rewrite the will in my favor, cutting out her children, pulled me into a storm of family secrets.

I was young, unemployed, and full of doubts. A nursing diploma in hand but no job prospects. Higher education in the city felt like a cruel joke. Weeks of failed interviews left me restless, staring at a bleak future.

Then, a small ad in the paper caught my eye:

“Nanny needed for an elderly lady who cannot walk. Live-in position.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

It felt like a lifeline. So, I headed to the interview.

When I arrived at the grand, slightly weathered house, the door was opened by a young man, perhaps in his early twenties.

“You must be here for the nanny position,” he said with a polite smile. “I’m Edward.”

Before I could respond, a young woman appeared behind him.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“And I’m Emily. Grandma’s expecting you,” she added, her tone friendly but distant, as if this was a routine chore she wanted to get over with.

They were kind enough to show me inside, but it looked as though they were obligated to be welcoming.

“Grandma’s upstairs,” Edward said as he gestured toward the staircase. “We’ll let her take it from here.”

They disappeared down the hall, leaving me with the distinct impression that they were more like housemates than attentive grandchildren.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Mrs. Blackwood greeted me with a smile that radiated confidence. She was in bed, but everything about her said she was in control. Her hair was perfectly coiffed, her nails polished, and her laughter surprisingly hearty.

“Ah, you must Mia,” she said, her voice warm and commanding. “Come in, dear. Sit down.”

I hesitated for a moment. She didn’t match the frail, helpless image I’d expected.

“Don’t just stand there,” she teased, patting the edge of the bed. “Sit! Have a doughnut. No one should face the world hungry.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Thank you,” I replied, cautiously picking one from the plate on her nightstand.

Her eyes sparkled as she watched me as if she already knew my life story.

“So, tell me,” she began, leaning back slightly, “why do you want this job?”

“I need it. And I believe I can help you,” I said, trying not to overshare.

She nodded. “Honesty. That’s rare these days. Well, Mia, welcome aboard.”

That’s how my life in Lady Blackwood’s house began.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The first few days were uneventful. I followed her routine, listened to her endless stories, and thought maybe this would be simple. But then, the strangeness began.

One morning, a book from the shelf moved beside her bed.

“Did you read this last night, Mrs. Blackwood?” I asked, holding up the book.

“I don’t sleepwalk, dear,” she replied, her lips twitching with amusement.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Then there was the curtain. I distinctly remembered leaving it open, but it was drawn when I returned. And the flowers… They were freshly watered when I hadn’t touched them.

“Are your grandchildren coming to kiss good night?” I asked one morning, trying to sound casual.

“Oh no,” she said with a small laugh. “Edward and Emily have been living here since their parents gone, but they rarely bother to check on me before bed.”

“But… someone’s moving things,” I pressed.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“They’ll come when the will is read,” she added, missing my comments.

Her words hung in the air like a puzzle piece that didn’t fit. Something was off, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Mrs. Blackwood was hiding something from everyone, including her grandchildren.

***

Each new day in the Blackwood household seemed to unravel more mysteries. I decided to make a few changes to Mrs. Blackwood’s routine, not only to make her life more comfortable but also to create a sense of normalcy in the house. Instead of letting her eat alone in her room, I began setting the table in the living room.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“There’s something special about a proper dinner table,” I said, adjusting the silverware. “It feels more… lively, don’t you think?”

Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, but a faint smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re full of ideas, aren’t you, Mia?”

“And you’re going to love this one,” I said with a wink, pushing her wheelchair closer to the table.

I covered her with a soft blanket and tucked a pillow behind her back for support.

Edward and Emily weren’t as enthusiastic about the change. The first night, they entered the room with wide eyes, as though they had stumbled into a completely foreign world.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“What’s this?” Emily asked, frowning at the neatly set table.

“Dinner,” I replied cheerfully. “It’s nice to eat together, don’t you think?”

Edward hesitated. “But Grandma always eats in her room.”

“Well, not anymore,” I said firmly, pulling out a chair for him. “She deserves company, don’t you agree?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

They exchanged a look, clearly uncomfortable, but sat down anyway.

Later, I introduced the idea of reading nights twice a week.

“It’s simple,” I explained one evening. “We’ll each take turns reading a chapter aloud. Then we can discuss the plot. It’ll be fun, and it’ll give us all something to share.”

Mrs. Blackwood seemed to enjoy it, her laughter often punctuating the room as we stumbled through old classics and lighthearted tales.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

But after a few weeks, Edward and Emily began to find excuses to skip. Their absences became more frequent until it was just Mrs. Blackwood and me at the table.

One evening, the four of us gathered for the dinner.

“I’m glad you both joined us tonight,” Mrs. Blackwood began, her voice smooth and warm.

Edward glanced at Emily. “Actually, Grandma, there’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

Emily jumped in before he could finish. “We’ve been thinking… It’s probably best for all of us if Edward and I move out. You’ll still have Mia here to take care of you, of course.”

Mrs. Blackwood tilted her head. “Moved out? Where would you go?”

“We found a place downtown,” Edward explained quickly. “But, um, we’ll need a little help with the deposit and rent.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For a moment, silence hung over the table. Then Mrs. Blackwood gave a slow, deliberate smile that made both Edward and Emily sit up straighter.

“Well, isn’t that convenient,” she said, her voice light but laced with something sharp. “Since we’re all sharing news, I have some of my own.”

Edward frowned. “What news?”

Mrs. Blackwood leaned forward slightly, her eyes gleaming with amusement.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Next week, my lawyer will be visiting to make some changes to my will.”

Emily froze, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Changes?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Blackwood replied. “You see, I’ve decided that everything will go to Mia.”

“You’re joking!” Emily exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m quite serious,” Mrs. Blackwood said, her voice calm. “Mia has shown me the kind of care and respect I haven’t seen from either of you in years. She’s earned it.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“But we’re your grandchildren!” Edward burst out.

“Then perhaps you should start acting like it,” Mrs. Blackwood retorted. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I believe dinner is getting cold.”

***

Overnight, Edward’s and Emily’s behavior changed in the most absurd ways. Suddenly, they became the epitome of devoted grandchildren, vying for her attention. That was as entertaining as it was ridiculous.

One morning, I walked into the living room to find Edward arranging a vase of bright tulips on the table.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Flowers for you, Grandma,” he said, his tone overly cheerful. “I remember how much you love tulips.”

Mrs. Blackwood glanced at the flowers, unimpressed. “Do you? That’s interesting because I prefer orchids.”

Emily, not to be outdone, burst in a moment later carrying a tray with tea and biscuits.

“Breakfast in the living room today, Grandma! I thought you’d enjoy a change of scenery.”

Mrs. Blackwood raised an eyebrow, sipping the tea. “Well, aren’t you two just angels,” she said dryly. “Too bad you didn’t think of this sooner.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

They were relentless. Their efforts to win her over bordered on comical. Meanwhile, I barely had to lift a finger.

But despite their over-the-top efforts, Mrs. Blackwood remained firm. One evening, after a particularly extravagant dinner prepared by Emily, she announced:

“My decision is final. No amount of flowers or fancy meals will change it.”

The smiles disappeared, replaced by hushed conversations behind closed doors.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

The next day, Edward approached me.

“We’ve decided that your services are no longer needed. We can manage taking care of Grandma ourselves.”

It was clear his words were rehearsed, but the tension in his voice betrayed the real motive.

“Alright,” I said finally. “I’ll pack my things.”

As I turned to leave, Mrs. Blackwood called me to her room. She handed me an envelope stuffed with cash.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

“It’s time for you to act. Rent a car, park it near the house at midnight, and wait in the garden when the lights go out. Be ready for anything.”

I stared at her, startled. “But what’s going to happen?”

She smiled. “Just trust me. You’ll see soon enough.”

***

I rented the jeep, just as Mrs. Blackwood had instructed. The following night, I drove toward her house and parked the jeep a few streets away, keeping it hidden under the shadows of tall trees.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels

Taking a deep breath, I got out and crept into the garden, crouching behind the hedge where I had a clear view of the house. Time felt elastic, stretching endlessly as I waited for her signal.

Then, all at once, the lights in the house went out.

My pulse quickened. I fixed my eyes on the windows, every muscle in my body tense. The darkness seemed alive, moving with shadows that weren’t there a moment ago.

Suddenly, the back door creaked open, and a figure in a black cloak emerged. It turned, the face illuminated by the moonlight.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

“Mrs. Blackwood?” I whispered, unsure if it could really be her.

“Come,” she whispered, moving with a speed and confidence that shocked me.

I hurried after her, struggling to keep up as she navigated the garden like someone half her age. When we reached the jeep, she slid into the driver’s seat without hesitation.

“Wait… you can drive?” I stammered, stunned.

“Of course,” she replied, her tone tinged with amusement. “Did you think I spent all my time in bed for fun?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

As she expertly maneuvered the jeep, she explained everything. The shifting objects, the carefully timed moments of helplessness—it had all been part of her plan.

“My grandchildren have spent their lives waiting for something they didn’t earn. You, Mia, showed me what true care and effort look like. It’s time they learn to stand on their own.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

***

True to her word, Mrs. Blackwood rewrote her will, leaving nothing to her grandchildren. Instead, she rewarded me generously and donated the rest to charity. Her grandchildren were given a choice: start earning their way or leave without support. Surprisingly, they chose to change.

As for me, I found a place to live and returned to my hospital internship, armed with glowing recommendations from Mrs. Blackwood. That adventure gifted me with an extraordinary friendship with Mrs. Blackwood, who taught me the true value of self-worth.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney

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