I Found Earphones under My Floor-Bed and They Turned My World Upside Down

Who would’ve known that something small discovered in my house would lead me down a dark rabbit hole? Lies and secrets came to light as I unraveled the truth about a marriage I once thought was solid. It all ended with me getting revenge and peace.

Headphones on a pink and blue background | Source: Freepik

Headphones on a pink and blue background | Source: Freepik

My husband, John, and I, Linda, have been happily married for five years. But sometimes the smallest things can shake the strongest foundations. That’s what happened the week I returned from a work trip.

I found something unsettling in my home—earphones, but not any earphones.

This mysterious third set was tucked under our floor-bed, a place I had just rearranged before leaving town. My husband, always a creature of habit, has a particular taste in tech. His earphones are always black and practical, matching everything else on his desk.

A couple reading books and talking | Source: Pexels

A couple reading books and talking | Source: Pexels

Mine? I keep them with me, standard white, nothing fancy. So, when I discovered a third set under our bed, beige with gold accents, my curiosity piqued. Naturally, I confronted him. His response, which included brushing off my confusion with a shrug, was:

“Oh, those old things, they’re mine. I wondered what happened to them.”

A man reading a book and writing notes while looking at someone | Source: Pexels

A man reading a book and writing notes while looking at someone | Source: Pexels

Something didn’t sit right with me about his response, and I found this whole thing odd. The color was off; his nonchalance was too forced. I chose to say nothing more at the moment, replying, “Oh okay…,” though my mind raced with questions.

Instead, I snapped a photo and, although it was a long shot, I turned to social media for help. I posted it on my Facebook page with a message:

“Found these in my living room after my son’s birthday party. If you recognize these earphones, please message me directly.”

A woman's hands texting something on a laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman’s hands texting something on a laptop | Source: Pexels

It wasn’t long before I received a message that turned my world upside down. The message that popped up on my screen made my heart skip a beat! I gasped and screamed in shock when I realized who the earphones belonged to. My sister-in-law (SIL), Rachel claimed them.

A chill went down my spine as I tried to understand how they had ended up under our bed.

She had been at our house for my son’s birthday party, a week before my trip.

A shocked woman looking at her phone with a laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels

A shocked woman looking at her phone with a laptop on a desk | Source: Pexels

In a quick response, she responded to my post, saying, “So sorry, Linds. I think I must have dropped and forgotten about them during the party.” Her casual explanation did very little to ease my growing suspicion.

I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling of doubt.

Rachel and my husband had always been close—too close. My gut now told me as I wondered if there was more to their relationship. I decided to keep a closer eye on them and their interactions. Feigning ignorance while I sought the truth.

A worried woman contemplating something | Source: Shutterstock

A worried woman contemplating something | Source: Shutterstock

A few days passed, and my suspicion only deepened when I noticed they were together more often than usual. I’d catch them whispering and laughing. “You’re so funny, Jonny!” Rachel would say to my husband while sitting too close to him.

Their ease around each other now seemed less innocent. I needed more than suspicions; I needed proof.

So, instead of confronting them immediately, I decided to investigate without arousing any suspicion.

A man and woman talking and laughing | Source: Pexels

A man and woman talking and laughing | Source: Pexels

Under the guise of another work trip, I told my husband I’d be out of town for a few days. Instead, I stayed at a local establishment, using this time to watch our home discreetly.

I rented a car, an unrecognized one, and stationed myself near our home.

That first night of my “trip,” I watched as Rachel arrived at my house shortly after John got home from work. Her casual demeanor as she walked in, as if it were her own home, was all I needed to see. It confirmed that she’d done this before.

A woman sitting in a car holding a phone, wearing earphones, with a laptop on her lap | Source: Pexels

A woman sitting in a car holding a phone, wearing earphones, with a laptop on her lap | Source: Pexels

I had prepared for this to get tangible evidence. Earlier, I had installed discreet motion-activated cameras in our living room and near the entrance. Safely hidden away in my car later that evening, I watched the live feed on my laptop.

The images that unfolded were a painful confirmation of my worst fears! Their behavior went from innocent chats to close, intimate, and unmistakable. It was unlike what you’d expect from a brother-in-law and SIL and tore through my heart like a knife.

My worst fears were confirmed.

An unhappy-looking woman looking at something while in a car | Source: Pexels

An unhappy-looking woman looking at something while in a car | Source: Pexels

I gathered evidence over the next few days, documenting the affair meticulously through the cameras and other means. Heartbroken yet resolute, I devised a plan for a dramatic revelation. This time I was armed with undeniable proof.

The annual family reunion was approaching. I knew it would be the perfect moment when our close and extended family members would be present. I “returned” home after my “trip” and pretended nothing was wrong.

A woman removing bags from a car | Source: Getty Images

A woman removing bags from a car | Source: Getty Images

As our family gathered for the reunion, I continued pretending everything was normal. The room filled with relatives, buzzing with laughter and conversation. They enjoyed the festivities while catching up.

Under the pretext of showing a family photo slideshow, I quietly set up a projector. Then, the lights dimmed and everyone settled down to watch as I began the slideshow. Instead of fond family memories, the first images to flash across the screen were freeze frames of my husband and Rachel.

It showed them in compromising positions from the footage in the house.

A woman sitting with a screen and people in the background | Source: Freepik

A woman sitting with a screen and people in the background | Source: Freepik

“I gathered you all here under happier pretenses, but we need to address the painful truth,” I announced. My voice was steady, masking the chaos inside. The shock was palpable; the room fell silent except for the murmurs of disbelief as I said:

“What you are seeing is the reality of an ongoing betrayal in our family, one that affects us all.”

People reacted with gasps, murmurs, and disbelief as the evidence of John’s infidelity played. I wanted everyone to see and understand the depth of deceit from my husband and Rachel.

A group of people reacting in shock to something | Source: Getty Images

A group of people reacting in shock to something | Source: Getty Images

The cheating pair caught off guard, could only sit frozen. They listened and watched from their different seats. As the evidence played out before everyone, there was no room for denial. They had no chance for them to twist the narrative.

The facade they’d held all along finally fell away as family members looked at them with judgment and disgust. It was a moment of bittersweet vindication. My marital trust shattered, but it marked the beginning of my journey toward healing and closure.

The truth was out, and now, it was time to rebuild, on my own terms.

A happy woman playing with her son | Source: Pexels

A happy woman playing with her son | Source: Pexels

Linda’s story isn’t the only one where the wife discovers something that leads them to realize their husband is cheating. Tom’s wife, in a similar tale, found out the truth about her husband’s infidelity through social media too!

I Accidentally Discovered My Husband’s Cheating through an IG Post — My Public Revenge Shook His World

As dawn broke, I held my six-week-old daughter, Lily, feeling the weight of the morning’s change. Tom, my husband, was packing for a business trip, his first since Lily’s birth. Previously, his trips were routine, but now, they brought a heaviness I couldn’t shake.

Someone's packed luggage, ready for a trip | Source: Getty Images

Someone’s packed luggage, ready for a trip | Source: Getty Images

Despite Tom’s reassurances, my anxiety was confirmed when I stumbled upon an Instagram photo showing him at a restaurant, not alone, but with Eliza. The woman was his university friend who disliked me. Shocked and betrayed, I resolved to uncover the truth.

A woman holding a baby while looking at her phone | Source: Getty Images

A woman holding a baby while looking at her phone | Source: Getty Images

I orchestrated a baby shower that turned into an expose. Amidst a slideshow of Lily’s photos, I included the incriminating image from Instagram. The room’s warmth turned to whispers of disbelief as Tom’s facade crumbled.

People reacting in shock and surprise about something | Source: Getty Images

People reacting in shock and surprise about something | Source: Getty Images

My husband’s pleas fell on deaf ears as I stood firm, ending the event and our marriage with calm resolve. As I initiated the divorce, I knew Lily and I were ready to move forward, stronger and together.

A happy woman watching a baby sleep | Source: Getty Images

A happy woman watching a baby sleep | Source: Getty Images

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.

I Married My Childhood Friend – He Told Me His Family’s Secret on Our Wedding Night & It Almost Ruined My Life

After marrying my childhood sweetheart, I thought our happily ever after had finally begun. That was until he handed me a notebook filled with his mother’s secrets.

I didn’t expect to run into Michael that morning. I was just grabbing my usual coffee, walking down Main Street in our old hometown, when I spotted him. Tall, familiar, with a hint of gray in his hair, he was standing outside the coffee shop we used to go to after school.

A man with a book in a cafe | Source: Pexels

A man with a book in a cafe | Source: Pexels

“Michael?” I called out, almost in disbelief.

He turned, and for a second, he just stared. Then, a big grin spread across his face. “Is that really you?” he said, his voice warm, just like I remembered. “I never thought I’d see you around here again!”

“Same here!” I laughed. “What are the odds?”

A couple holding hands on a date | Source: Pexels

A couple holding hands on a date | Source: Pexels

We decided to grab coffee together, just like old times. Inside the shop, everything felt like it had back then. The old wood counters and the smell of fresh pastries. It was almost like time had rewound itself.

We chatted for hours that day, catching up on everything and nothing. We laughed over old stories, like the time we both got lost on a hike or how we’d leave each other notes in history class. The hours melted away.

A couple on a date | Source: Midjourney

A couple on a date | Source: Midjourney

Coffee turned into lunch, lunch turned into long walks, and before we knew it, we were calling each other every day. There was something so easy, so natural about being around him.

A few months later, Michael proposed. It was simple, just him and me, sitting by the lake one evening.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”

A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels

A marriage proposal | Source: Pexels

I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. Two months later, we tied the knot.

After the wedding, we drove to his family home, where we’d spent many afternoons as kids. The house hadn’t changed a bit. Even the wallpaper in the hallway was the same, and the old oak tree in the yard was still there.

A small house | Source: Pexels

A small house | Source: Pexels

Later that evening, after I’d freshened up, I came back to find Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, looking… different. His usual easy smile was gone. He was holding a small, worn notebook in his hands.

“Michael?” I asked, sitting down beside him. “Is everything okay?”

A nervous man | Source: Pexels

A nervous man | Source: Pexels

He didn’t look at me right away. His eyes were on the notebook, fingers tracing the edge. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine. “What is it?”

He took a deep breath, finally meeting my gaze. “This notebook is my mom’s,” he said quietly. “She kept notes… about our family. About something she thought was important.”

A worn notebook | Source: Pexels

A worn notebook | Source: Pexels

“Okay…” I said slowly, not quite understanding.

He handed it to me, and I opened it. Pages and pages of neat, looping handwriting filled every page. “My family has this… belief,” he began. “A curse, actually. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but they believe it’s real.”

“A curse?” I asked, eyebrows raised, trying to hide my skepticism.

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Midjourney

He nodded. “My mom says that any woman who marries into the family… is cursed with bad luck. Tragedy. Pain. It’s happened for generations, or so she says.”

I almost laughed but stopped myself when I saw the worry in his eyes. “Michael, you don’t really believe this, do you?”

A worried man | Source: Pexels

A worried man | Source: Pexels

He ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. “I don’t know. I’ve always told myself it’s just an old family superstition. But… I’ve seen things, you know? My dad’s marriage to my mom wasn’t exactly smooth. My uncle — well, let’s just say things ended badly for him, too.”

I took his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Look, that doesn’t mean anything. Marriages are hard for a lot of people.”

Woman holding a man's hand | Source: Pexels

Woman holding a man’s hand | Source: Pexels

He gave a faint smile, but his eyes still looked troubled. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, though he didn’t sound convinced.

A week after the wedding, small misfortunes began to pile up. First, it was a flat tire right before we departed for our honeymoon, leaving us unable to drive anywhere.

“Just bad luck,” I told him, forcing a laugh.

A flat tire | Source: Pexels

A flat tire | Source: Pexels

Back home, things took a strange turn. The business I’d spent years building started losing clients. A string of bad reviews appeared online, some from people I’d never even worked with. I tried everything to fix it, but nothing seemed to help. It felt like someone had cursed my work.

Then, someone broke into our house. Nothing important or valuable was stolen, but the psychological damage was done.

A man picking a lock | Source: Freepik

A man picking a lock | Source: Freepik

Michael noticed, too. “You think this… this curse could be real?” he asked one night, his voice low.

“Of course not,” I replied quickly, though I was starting to doubt myself. “There has to be an explanation for all of this. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know… a phase.”

The turning point came just before Thanksgiving. Michael’s mother insisted we host the holiday at our home. We chatted on the phone about the menu, and she seemed in good spirits.

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels

A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels

After the call, I placed my phone down on the couch and picked up a book, settling in to read. But as I turned the page, I heard voices. The phone was still connected.

“Do you really think this curse nonsense is still working?” Michael’s father asked her, sounding exasperated.

Without thinking, I immediately pressed the record button.

A serious woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

A serious woman on her phone | Source: Pexels

She laughed. “It works every time. Look at her! Her business is already struggling, and Michael is so wrapped up in worry he can hardly think straight. And I will put an end to this when I ruin her turkey.”

“Enough, Marianne,” he replied. “You’ve already scared off enough good women from our sons.”

“If they aren’t right for my boys, I’ll do what I have to,” she said, her tone cold. “I know what’s best for them.”

Mature couple talking | Source: Pexels

Mature couple talking | Source: Pexels

My stomach turned. I ended the call, feeling numb, replaying her words in my mind. All those strange things — the flat tire, the bad reviews — they were her doing. There was no curse. It was all a lie, a twisted trick to control her sons and their wives.

That night, I sat across from Michael, clutching my phone with trembling hands. “Michael,” I began, “there’s something I need you to hear.”

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Freepik

A woman talking to her husband | Source: Freepik

He looked at me, his brows knitted in concern. “What’s wrong?”

I pressed play, and his mother’s voice filled the room.

Michael looked stunned, his eyes darting from the phone to me as he tried to process what he’d heard. “This… this has to be a mistake,” he stammered, the disbelief thick in his voice. “She wouldn’t… my mother would never—”

A shocked man looking at his phone | Source: Pexels

A shocked man looking at his phone | Source: Pexels

I took his hand. “Michael, I overheard the whole thing. She’s been trying to break us apart.”

Finally, he looked at me, his face set with determination. “I need to hear it from her. I need to hear the truth, from both of them.”

We arrived at his parents’ house late that night. Michael’s father opened the door, looking surprised to see us. “Michael, is everything alright?”

A surprised man | Source: Pexels

A surprised man | Source: Pexels

Michael pushed past him, his face pale with anger. “Where’s Mom?”

His father’s face fell, and he took a step back. “Michael, please, calm down.”

“I am calm,” he said, his voice strained. “But I need answers, Dad.”

Marianne looked taken aback, her eyes flicking to her husband, who wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What are you talking about?”

A surprised elderly woman | Source: Pexels

A surprised elderly woman | Source: Pexels

Michael held up my phone. “I heard you, Mom. You and Dad, talking about the curse. Talking about how you’ve been… interfering. Scaring off women, making them think they’re cursed.”

Her face went from feigned confusion to a hard, calculating expression. “Michael, I don’t know what you think you heard, but—”

“You know what you said, Marianne,” his father interrupted quietly, stepping forward. “There’s no point denying it.”

An angry elderly man | Source: Pexels

An angry elderly man | Source: Pexels

She whirled on him, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare!”

“Don’t I dare?” His father shook his head, looking tired and worn down. “I’ve kept my mouth shut for years. Watched you chase off every woman Michael or his brothers ever loved. Watched you lie, sabotage, play with people’s lives just because you thought you knew what was best. It’s gone on long enough.”

An elderly couple arguing | Source: Midjourney

An elderly couple arguing | Source: Midjourney

Michael’s face crumpled as he looked from his father to his mother. “So it’s true?” he whispered. “All of it?”

Tears began streaming down her face. “I did it because I love you, Michael.”

He took a step back, shaking his head. “This isn’t love. This is control.”

A heavy silence fell over the room. His father spoke next, his voice weary. “Michael, I’ve tried to reason with her, believe me. But she’s… she believes she’s doing the right thing.”

A frustrated elderly man | Source: Pexels

A frustrated elderly man | Source: Pexels

Michael turned to his father, his voice full of hurt. “And you let her do this? All these years?”

His father looked down. “I was afraid of losing my family. I thought maybe one day, she’d stop. That you’d be strong enough to… break free from it.”

Michael turned silent. Taking my hand, he led me to the door. Outside, he looked up at the stars, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He glanced over at me, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry. For all of it.”

A sad man looking at the skies | Source: Pexels

A sad man looking at the skies | Source: Pexels

I squeezed his hand. “We’re free now, Michael. That’s all that matters.”

But as we walked to the car, I felt the weight of the past, the sadness of a family broken by secrets and a mother’s misguided attempts at love. Michael’s heart would take time to heal, but we were leaving the curse and his mother behind.

Holding hands | Source: Pexels

Holding hands | Source: Pexels

Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: Colleen believed she knew everything about her husband until she accidentally overheard his therapy session. Michael’s startling confession revealed his darkest secrets, destroying their 12-year marriage and leaving Colleen to pick up the shattered pieces of their family…

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.

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