When Nancy discovers a hidden letter in her husband David’s laundry, her seemingly stable life unravels. The letter, written by David, invites a mysterious woman to celebrate their “seven-year anniversary.” What else will the dirty laundry reveal?
Laundry was just another Mom thing in our household. David helps out with the kitchen and the kids — but the laundry and the bathroom are two things he will never tackle.
A person doing laundry | Source: Pexels
“I can’t do the hair in the drain,” David said, grimacing when I asked him to take over the chores.
“It’s my hair. And our daughter’s,” I chuckled.
“Still gross,” he retorted.
But the sounds of the washing machine and the hum of the dryer soon became my perfect quiet chore — and I loved that it was mine.
Except for the time when laundry day revealed more than just dirty stains.
A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels
As I shuffled through my husband’s laundry, the soft crinkle of paper disrupted the mindless actions of my hands. A folded letter, elegant and unsuspecting, slipped from between the folds of his shirt, falling to the floor.
Happy anniversary, babe! These 7 years have been the best of my life! Meet me at Obélix on Wednesday night, 8 p.m. Be in red.
My husband’s handwriting was unmistakable. The loops of his letters and the hard pressure with which he wrote.
A man writing on a piece of paper | Source: Pexels
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
Seven years? David and I had been married for eighteen years. We had two daughters. Our anniversary wasn’t for another six months.
And Obélix? The fanciest restaurant in town? After David had specifically told me that we needed to cut down our expenses.
A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels
“We need to cook at home more, Nancy,” he said. “Less takeout. The girls will just have to get used to the idea — we’ve been spending unnecessarily, lately.”
“Are we in trouble?” I asked, thinking that we were falling down some financial hole that we hadn’t been expecting.
“No, we’re not,” David reassured me. “But it’s just good to be mindful.”
A person packing takeout into a brown bag | Source: Unsplash
Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. It was all I thought about for days. I wanted to get to the bottom of David’s secret letter. A day after I found the note in his shirt pocket, I went back to see if it was still there — but the pocket was empty.
Signed, sealed, and delivered, I thought.
“I’m working late tonight, honey,” David said that morning while I began the breakfast routine.
A person making breakfast | Source: Pexels
“Should I leave you a plate, or will you grab something?” I asked, knowing full well that he had dinner plans with some mysterious woman in red.
“I’ll get something on the way home,” he said, walking out the door with his travel mug.
The day dragged on with me doing school drop-offs and the afternoon lift club consisting of five noisy schoolgirls. But even through that, I couldn’t get David out of my mind.
I took the girls back home and made them snacks for when they were sitting outside, while trying to figure out what to do.
Two little girls outside | Source: Pexels
“You’ve got the time and the location, Nancy,” my mother said when I phoned her for clarity.
“So, you think I should go? Really?” I asked.
Of course, I wanted to go. I wanted to be the one to catch David in the act. But I was also scared of breaking my own heart.
“Yes. Your entire marriage rests on this evening, darling,” she said. “I know that it’s going to be difficult, but at the end of the day, at least you’ll know what your next move will be.”
“I suppose,” I said.
A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels
“Don’t you think you owe it to the girls?” she asked.
I arranged for a nanny to look after the girls — my mother could have done it, but it was too short notice to fetch her and still get to the restaurant in time.
I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear. I was torn between being a wallflower — easy for David to miss me, while I watched from afar.
“Stop it, Nancy,” I barked at myself in the mirror. “You’re going to be bold.”
A rack of clothing | Source: Pexels
I slipped into a stunning red dress that David had bought me for my birthday some time ago. It still fit perfectly. And I remembered the conversation clearly.
“Red has always been your color,” David said, removing the dress from the box.
A woman in a red dress | Source: Pexels
I looked in the mirror — I was bold, striking — a symbol of the confrontation that was about to come. But although I knew that I looked good, at the heart of it, I was just hurt and betrayed.
I arrived at the restaurant a little early, the hum of anticipation and the clinking of glasses around me.
And there she was, the other woman. She was dressed in red, too — as per David’s instructions. She had a carefree smile as she held her phone at different angles, taking photos of herself.
Taking a deep breath, I took the table next to her, ensuring that my back was to the door. I didn’t want David to see me first. I needed him to see me at the right moment.
A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels
The moment my husband walked in, the air shifted. He approached her with a warmth and intimacy that sent a jolt through my heart.
A long time ago, David had looked at me in that way, too.
I took a sip of the wine I had ordered — I needed something to help settle my nerves.
A glass of wine on a table | Source: Pexels
David’s eyes were soft as he pulled a chair to sit next to the woman, instead of across from her. It was something he did with me, too. So that he could put his hand on my knee. He handed her a large bouquet of flowers and a white box.
“Isabelle,” he said, leaning in for a kiss that lingered too long for my comfort. “You look stunning as always, darling.”
Her laughter was light, and as carefree as her selfie session from before.
“David, you always know how to make a girl feel special. Seven years already? Can you believe it?”
A bouquet of white tulips and a giftbox | Source: Pexels
In that moment, his eyes met mine, the warmth in his smile froze, replaced by a dawning realization and fear.
Without a word, he rose from his seat, mumbling an excuse to use the restroom to Isabelle.
“Don’t you dare, David!” I exclaimed.
He stopped, a look of panic crossing his face. Isabelle, now a confused and flustered mess, watched the scene unfold.
David, caught between his wife and his secret lover, stood rooted to the spot. I could see the wheels turning in his head, calculating his next move.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
Turning to Isabelle, I introduced myself with a calmness I didn’t quite feel.
“I’m Nancy,” I said. “David’s wife of almost eighteen years.”
“What?” Isabelle remarked, her face turning pale. “I had no idea! David told me that you were separated, but still on good terms because of your children.”
Isabelle’s fingers nervously twisted a lock of her hair. It was clear that she was as much a victim of David’s lies as I was.
A person twirling a lock of hair | Source: Pexels
My husband’s eyes begged for forgiveness — or for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The silence was deafening.
“Separated? How original, David.”
Looking directly at Isabelle, I saw the tears well in her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never wanted to be a part of something like this.”
“I never meant for it to go this far,” David said.
A crying woman | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t tell which one of us he was talking to.
Isabelle sniffed into her napkin. I could see that she was visibly shaken.
But seven years? They had been together for seven years, and not once did she ask to meet my daughters? Or even meet me?
Did she not think that they were getting serious? Or that there was more to their relationship than just dating?
It didn’t make sense to me. None of it did. David and I got married when we were very young — almost straight out of high school. Despite the usual bickering that married couples went through, we were good. We were strong.
A couple sitting together | Source: Pexels
Until I found that note.
I thought about all the times that we had argued — sure, it was uncomfortable at the time, but we went through everything together and always came out better. I thought about all of David’s late nights, and the business trips.
I remembered the one evening, as I sat in bed eating a bowl of ice cream, David packed his things into a suitcase.
“I’ll just be away for the weekend,” he said.
“Where are you staying?” I asked.
An open suitcase | Source: Pexels
“At a hotel,” he answered immediately. “But I’m not going to be alone. One of the guys will be sharing a room with me.”
I nodded. I trusted him; he had never given me any reason not to.
Now, I sat back in my chair, and watched as David fought himself not to reach out and comfort Isabelle. He had a pained look on his face, with his fists clenched tightly.
That hurt me the most. The fact that my husband cared enough for this woman, wanting to reach out to her — in my presence.
A clenched first | Source: Unsplash
I didn’t feel that our marriage was over. But that was the moment that my heart broke completely.
“I’ll begin the divorce process,” I told David, picking up my handbag.
“You need to explain this to the girls; I’m not going to.”
As I left, the restaurant faded into a blur. The night air felt colder as I walked to my car. I had faced my betrayal. But I knew that I had a lot to work through.
I just needed to be strong for my girls. I knew that the divorce would wreck them, and our family. But David had forced my hand.
A woman in red lying on a low bed | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
Here’s another story for you | I witnessed my boss cheat on his wife at work with a coworker. But then a miraculous transformation sparked by a wish took him on a journey of personal growth, leading to systemic change, and marking a pivotal shift towards inclusivity and equality within our corporate world.
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.
My Mother-in-Law Purchased the Perfect Mattress for Me – I Was Horrified When I Discovered Her Real Intentions
Despite her age, Julia was just full of life. She constantly walked in and out of our home, ready to throw herself into our kitchen.
“I just want to feed you guys,” she told me when I asked her to sit down, ready to cook for her instead.
“I don’t have anything else to do besides meet the ladies for drinks,” she chuckled.
It usually ended with us cooking together — Toby coming home to music and laughter echoing in the kitchen.
My parents were across the country because I had moved for college, and ended up settling down here with Toby. And as much as phone and video calls kept me close to my family, at the end of the day, Julia filled the role of a mother — a mother in close proximity anyway.
After three years of being married, Toby and I were trying to have a baby.
“I’m ready if you are,” Toby told me. “I think it’s time now.”
I agreed with Toby. I was ready — I wanted to be a mom.
So, we began trying. And for months, we just couldn’t get pregnant. And the longer we tried, the more reality set in. Maybe we just weren’t meant to have biological children.
“What do you want to do?” I asked Toby. “Keep trying?”
Toby nodded. I knew that he wouldn’t ask me to do anything I didn’t want to do, but I also knew that he desperately wanted to be a father.
So, torn, I turned to my mother-in-law for advice. Julia took me to meet with a wellness coach, she took me for fertility massages, and then, she even bought Toby and I a brand new mattress.
“Maybe your body is just not rested enough,” my mother-in-law said. “Maybe you just need to give your body the best chance possible at this.”
“Do you think that it was a bit unnecessary?” I asked Toby as we got into bed that night, testing out our new mattress.
“Normally, I would have said yes,” Toby admitted. “But maybe there’s something to what Mom said. Our mattress was horrible before. Maybe it will make a difference.”
And it did. Because not even a month later, I discovered that we were pregnant. At first, I didn’t know whether to tell my husband and our family because I was so nervous about everything.
I felt that if I acknowledged the truth, then maybe I was inviting something to happen. But it made no sense — my irrational fear was selfish. Toby needed to know that we were well on our way to being parents.
“Thank goodness,” Toby said, picking me up. “Finally!”
Once we were safe within the second trimester, we told our family — satisfied that our baby’s growth was on track.
And then, before we knew it, our daughter, Maddie, was born.
My mother-in-law took over, caring for the three of us while we navigated the new waters of parenthood. She cooked and cleaned, and took over Maddie’s early morning feeding times.
Julia’s presence made me feel loved, especially because my parents were unable to come over and meet our baby yet.
Until Toby discovered something in our home that changed the way I viewed Julia forever.
Toby and I didn’t mind that Maddie spent the night in our bed – it was just easier for me to feed her through the night. But one night, Maddie had a blow-out, causing our bed to suffer the consequences.
“You sort the baby out,” Toby yawned when I woke him up to Maddie’s drama. “I’ll sort the bed out.”
I picked up my daughter and took her into the bathroom – her blow-out called for a bath, not just a diaper change. Maddie cooed and pressed her gummy hands to my face.
“Sweet girl,” I told her. “You just have to make life difficult for Dad and me, huh?”
Meanwhile, what I didn’t know was that while Toby was stripping our bed, he had uncovered something strange attached to our mattress.
By the time I was done with Maddie, she was almost asleep again. So, I took her to our bedroom, ready to put her into the crib while I helped Toby change the bedding.
“Oh, honey,” he said when he saw me standing in the doorway. “We cannot use this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, setting Maddie down. “Did she get it into the mattress?”
Toby looked nervous. He had picked up the mattress so that it stood on its side.
“No, it’s not that,” he said.
I was perplexed, watching him struggle with words. “What are you talking about? It’s just a mattress, we’ll clean it–”
“No, Larissa,” he interrupted, his voice rising in panic. “It’s not just a mattress.”
By this point, I was sleep-deprived and slightly annoyed with my husband. Toby was not a man to fumble for his words, and yet, here he was, in the early hours of the morning, too uncertain to change the sheets.
“What?”
“Look what I found,” he said.
Toby handed me a little silk bag. Inside there were various herbs. I hadn’t seen the bag before.
“What is this? Where did you find it?” I asked.
“It was pinned to the mattress. It was under the mattress protector, so I think we just didn’t notice it before.”
“Fine, but what is it for?” I asked, confused and irritable.
“It’s fertility herbs, it has to be!” Toby exclaimed.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Listen, I don’t know if this is true or not, but I do know that my mother believes in old wives’ tales. What if this is one of those tales?”
“She would never do that,” I said. “No way!”
“Then where else did it come from?” Toby asked flatly.
He made us sleep in the guest bedroom – where Julia slept when she stayed over. But of course, I couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t silence my mind.
I looked at Maddie, sleeping in between Toby and me. She was perfect. Sure, we had a difficult time conceiving, but Maddie was our child through and through. She had my hair and Toby’s eyes. She was ours in every sense of the word.
But there was no mistaking the fact that she was born shortly after Julia had gifted us the bed.
Could those herbs have helped with Maddie’s birth? But was that even possible?
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, the familiar smell of gas hit my nose. Outside, Toby was dousing our mattress. He threw the match on it as I stepped outside the back door.
The mattress went up in flames in an instant – the flames seemed to dance with a fervor that matched the turmoil inside me. I was trying to understand Julia’s motives. She had always been so close to us – to me – so I couldn’t understand why she would keep this away from me.
I didn’t understand the significance of the herbs, but if she had explained it to me, I wouldn’t have felt the paranoia and fear that had settled in my body since Toby’s discovery.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, hearing the fire grow louder.
“We couldn’t keep it, honey. We just couldn’t,” he said.
Toby had a deep fear for anything esoteric – anything that bordered the supernatural was too much for him. He would have rather slept in our car than spent another night in the house with the mattress.
As the mattress burned, I kept an eye on the baby monitor, watching Maddie sleep. The silence between Toby and I was heavy with the uncertainty of what had been going on in our home.
Later, Julia came over to make was breakfast as usual. My husband took the lead, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of betrayal.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell us about the mattress? About the herbs?” he asked.
I poured Julia a cup of tea – despite everything that we had learned, she was still one of my favorite people. I loved her like I loved my mother.
My mother-in-law’s face crumpled, her usual vibrancy replaced by a somber guilt.
“I just wanted to help. I knew that you were having trouble conceiving, and I thought that if it worked, you wouldn’t care how. I never meant to hurt either of you. Especially not my granddaughter.”
“What else did you do? What’s in the bag? Other than the herbs?” Toby’s questions flew hard and fast around our living room.
“Nothing!” Julia exclaimed, finally registering Toby’s fear. “It’s just dried herbs. I can give you a list of them,” she said. “I’ll take you both to the store where I got them from. It’s a sweet little apothecary next to my dentist. It’s a store all about natural wellness.”
“You could have just told us,” I found myself saying. “How we can trust anything you do now? How do we know if our baby is a miracle baby or just an outcome of your herbs?”
“Does that matter?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “Maddie is here and she’s ours.”
I couldn’t exactly argue with that. Of course, Maddie was ours. I was just feeling wounded that Julia had done this and not told me. I also felt obligated to be angry with her – because my husband was livid.
“I’m sorry,” my mother-in-law whispered. “I really am.”
At her words, I felt Toby soften next to me.
“We need to start over, Mom,” he said. “If you plan on doing anything like this again, you have to tell us first. We need to know what’s going on in our own homes.”
Julia nodded and smiled at us. She seemed shaken that we had discovered the truth.
I was confused – there was a part of me that was eternally grateful to her because I know how difficult it was for us to get pregnant. But at the same time, how could sleeping on a bunch of herbs actually help us get pregnant?
Toby spent the rest of the day looking for mattresses online, while Julia baked us a tart for lunch. I just reveled in spending time with my daughter.
What do you think? Do you believe in natural remedies and old wives tales?
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