Cleaning the attic was supposed to be an ordinary task until my husband went ballistic thinking I’d thrown away a torn-down jacket. That clothing item ended up unraveling the truth about something he was doing behind my back. And that led to something I never expected in all my life!
It was a crisp fall afternoon when I decided it was finally time to tackle the attic. For years, it had been a catch-all for everything from holiday decorations to old clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in decades. I’d been meaning to clean it out for ages, but what I found in it led to me becoming a single woman after years of marriage…
Like everything else in life, cleaning the attic kept getting pushed down the list. My husband, Jeff, had mentioned before that most of the stuff up there was junk anyway. In fact, just last year, he told me his old high school jacket, now sitting forgotten in a pile of boxes, should go straight to the dump.
With that in mind, I started pulling things out, one by one. A broken lamp, boxes of our now-grown kids’ school projects, and, of course, Jeff’s old jacket. I barely glanced at it before tossing it into the pile meant for the dump.
It was faded and torn in a few places, and it smelled like it had been trapped in a musty attic for years. Not exactly a sentimental keepsake, right?
That evening, we sat down for dinner, the kind of normal weeknight meal where we barely had time to talk before cleaning up and moving on with the night. The air smelled like roasted chicken, but my husband of twenty years was oddly quiet.
He picked at his food for a while before I broke the silence.
“I cleaned out the attic today,” I said casually, trying to start a lighthearted conversation between us. “Threw out a bunch of our old junk.”
Jeff froze. His fork stopped halfway to his mouth before he dropped it onto the plate with a clatter.
“What JUNK?” he asked, his voice rising sharply, eyes wide like I’d just told him the house was on fire.
“Just some old stuff from the attic. Why?” I tried to keep my tone light, but the way his expression shifted had me worried.
Without another word, my husband immediately pushed back his chair, nearly knocking it over in his haste to get upstairs. I stayed behind, confused by his sudden panic. I heard him rummaging through boxes, muttering to himself.
Moments later, he came storming downstairs, fists clenched at his sides.
“Where’s my old school jacket?” His voice was dangerously low, with an edge to it I hadn’t heard before. He looked like he was ready to punch the walls!
I blinked at him, trying to figure out why he cared so much.
“I probably tossed it,” I said. “It was in a pile of stuff for the dump.”
The color literally drained from his face, and I could almost see the pulse pounding in his temple!
“You THREW it away?” he growled, his voice shaking with barely-contained fury. “I told you to throw away the junk, not that jacket!”
I stood there, dumbfounded. “Jeff, last year you said that jacket was trash… literally said it belonged in the dump!”
He let out a bitter laugh that sent chills down my spine.
“Well, guess what? The day I married YOU was a curse!”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut! And before I could respond, he stormed out of the house, grabbed his car keys, and peeled out of the driveway.
For a second, I was too shocked to move! But then something told me to follow him. Grabbing my purse, I jumped into my car and raced after him, my heart pounding. Where could he possibly be going in such a rage?
When I saw him pull into the entrance of the local dump, it all started to click into place!
The jacket. He was here to find that old jacket. But why? There had to be something more to it than just nostalgia. And what the hell did he mean that marrying me was a “curse?”
But soon enough, I’d find out what was in that jacket and why it would wreck our marriage…
I parked and hurried after him, catching sight of my husband frantically searching through piles of trash. I’d never seen him like this before… so on edge, so wild! My heart raced as I approached him.
“Jeff, what is going on? Why are you doing this?” I demanded, my voice trembling now.
He stopped digging, turning to face me, his face pale.
“Because, Stacy,” he spat, “I was saving money. Fifty thousand dollars. For us… to buy a new house.”
I took a step back, trying to process what he was saying. Fifty thousand? In an old, ratty jacket?
But then his words echoed in my head. “For US.” I didn’t believe it. Something felt wrong… really wrong.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“I didn’t think I had to!” he snapped, returning to his desperate search. “I was going to surprise you. Now it’s all gone BECAUSE of you!”
Back then, I had no idea what he was actually doing behind my back and that there was more to the money he’d saved!
I went with his lie.
I watched him sift through heaps of trash, his hands filthy, and something inside me twisted. Despite desperately wanting to believe him, his story wasn’t adding up. But I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. We never found the jacket that night. Eventually, after hours of searching, Jeff slumped down in defeat.
He wouldn’t even look at me.
We drove home in our separate cars, and I was silent as I continued contemplating my husband’s actions and statements. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was deeply wrong. After we got home, Jeff went straight to the bedroom without a word.
I sat on the couch, staring at the wall, my mind racing. What was it about that jacket? Why was he acting like this? Was there really money in the jacket?
An hour passed, and I heard my husband’s voice, low and hushed, from the bedroom. I crept up to the door, leaning close enough to hear his words through the thin walls.
“I don’t have the money anymore,” Jeff was saying. “That useless woman threw it out with the jacket!”
My breath caught in my throat…
“No, I wasn’t saving it for me and her,” he continued. “It was for the house… for US, like we said.”
My blood turned to ice. “US?” He wasn’t talking about me. He was talking about someone else!
I pushed open the door, unable to hold back my anger any longer!
“WHO are you talking to, Jeff?”
His face went pale as he turned to face me, phone still in hand. “Stacy… I…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “Who were you going to buy a house with?”
He didn’t answer, just stared at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
But I didn’t NEED him to answer. I already knew. There was someone else. Someone who had been waiting for that fifty thousand dollars.
“I’m filing for divorce,” I said, my voice calm and steady. “The kids and everyone is going to find out the truth about who you really are. You called me useless to your mistress, Jeff…”
It was the only thing that made sense now.
Jeff’s face twisted in anger, but I didn’t stay to hear his excuses. I walked out and didn’t look back.
A month after the divorce, I found myself back in the attic since I’d won the house in our filing. The chaos of the last few weeks had kept me from returning, but I needed to get my old sewing machine for a project I’d started.
As I sifted through boxes, my hand brushed against something soft… something familiar.
There, at the bottom of a box I had somehow missed, was Jeff’s old jacket.
I froze, pulling it out and staring at it in disbelief. I hadn’t thrown it away after all!
With trembling hands, I checked the inside pocket, and there it was… the fifty thousand dollars, neatly folded, exactly where he had hidden it!
But this time, there was no rush to tell anyone. No need to share. Jeff had made his choices, and now I was making mine. I kept the money, my heart racing at the thought of what it meant for my future.
This time, it was my secret to keep…
A man took me to Paris for our first date, but I blocked him immediately after he paid the bill
One moment, she’s sipping champagne in Paris, the next, she’s fleeing for her life. Rachel’s fairytale date in the City of Love spirals into a nightmare when she discovers her dreamy boyfriend’s sinister past. Can she escape before she’s next?
Do you believe in love at first sight? I know, I know… it’s a bit cliché, but I couldn’t help but wonder. I’m Rachel, a 30-year-old woman living her American dream in downtown Chicago. My life was simple—wake up, go to work, grab a coffee from the local shop, and occasionally indulge in a good book. That was until Robert walked into my life…
I met him at a charming little bookstore I frequented. We both reached for the same copy of “Pride and Prejudice”—classic, right? Our eyes met, and we both laughed.
“Well, this is quite the meet-cute,” he said, his eyes twinkling. “I’m Robert.”
“Rachel,” I replied, feeling a flutter in my stomach. “Are you a Jane Austen fan?”
“Guilty as charged,” he chuckled. “Though I must admit, Darcy Burke sets a rather high bar for us mere mortals.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, surprising myself with my boldness as I picked a book from the shelf. “I think there’s something to be said for modern-day charm.”
We chatted for nearly an hour, discovering shared interests and laughing at each other’s jokes. As we were about to part ways, Robert hesitated.
“I know this might seem forward,” he said, “but would you like to grab a coffee sometime? I know a great little place around the corner.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. “I’d love to,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.
From that moment, things just clicked. We exchanged numbers, and before I knew it, we were texting every day.
“Hey, Rachel, ever been to Paris?” Robert asked one evening after weeks of chatting.
“Only in my dreams,” I replied, chuckling. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve been talking for weeks, and I feel like I’ve known you forever. But we haven’t actually been on a proper date yet.”
“That’s true,” I said, my curiosity piqued. “What did you have in mind?”
“How about making that dream a reality? Come with me. Let’s have our first date in Paris.”
I was stunned. “Paris? For a first date? Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Robert replied. “Life’s too short for ordinary, don’t you think? We could spend a weekend there, see the sights, eat amazing food. What do you say?”
I hesitated, my mind racing. “That sounds incredible, but… isn’t it a bit much for a first date? We barely know each other.”
“I understand your hesitation,” Robert said softly. “But think about it… we’ve been talking every day for weeks. We know each other better than most people do on a first date. It’s just a chance to get to know each other better in a magical setting.”
His words were persuasive, and the allure of an adventure was too strong to resist. “You know what? You’re right. Let’s do it!”
“Really?” Robert sounded elated as he kissed my hand. “You won’t regret this, Rachel. It’ll be amazing, I promise.”
Soon, the day of our departure arrived. When I met Robert at the airport, he greeted me with the most stunning bouquet of red roses I’d ever seen. It felt surreal. He looked genuinely happy, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Ready for an adventure to remember?” he asked, smiling.
“As ready as I’ll ever be!” I chuckled. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Neither can I,” Robert admitted. “But I’m so glad we are. You look beautiful, by the way.”
I felt myself blush. “Thank you. You look great, too!”
The flight was smooth, and before I knew it, we were in Paris.
Robert called a taxi, and we went straight to this swanky restaurant. The place was fancy, with chandeliers and a pianist playing softly in the corner.
“This place is incredible,” I said, looking around in awe. “How did you find it?”
Robert smiled mysteriously. “I have my ways. I wanted our first date to be unforgettable.”
Hours melted away as we talked, champagne bubbles tickling our noses. We savored an exquisite meal, our laughter echoing between bites as we shared stories. For a moment, it felt like a fairytale.
When the bill came, Robert insisted on paying. “It’ll make me happy if you let me,” he said, his eyes earnest.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “It must be expensive.”
“Absolutely,” he replied as he paid the bill. “Tonight is my treat. You can get the next one,” he added with a wink.
“Alright, thank you,” I said, excusing myself to the restroom.
In the restroom, I was fixing my makeup when a woman approached me. She looked serious, almost scared.
“You need to leave, now,” she said, her voice low and urgent.
“What? Why?” I asked, confused. “Who are you?”
“My name is Cindy,” she replied, glancing nervously at the door. “I’m a detective from the States. Robert isn’t who he seems.”
“What are you talking about?” I demanded, feeling a pang of fear and disbelief.
“I’ve been tracking him,” Cindy continued. “He’s brought at least eight women to this restaurant in the past six months. Some went missing, others lost their jobs and disappeared. You could be next.”
My heart pounded. “This is crazy. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“I know this is hard to believe, but you need to trust me on this. Block his number and leave,” she desperately added, frowning.
I felt a wave of fear and disbelief. “But he’s been so kind… and genuine. Are you sure you have the right person?”
“I’m positive,” Cindy insisted. “Men like Robert are experts at appearing charming. It’s how they lure their victims. Please, for your own safety, you need to go.”
Without saying another word, I nodded, blocked Robert’s number on my phone, and rushed back to the table. Robert looked up, puzzled.
“I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said, my voice trembling.
“Go?? Rachel, what’s going on?” he asked, standing up. “You look pale. Are you feeling alright?”
“I can’t explain. Don’t try to find me,” I said, turning and heading for the door.
“Rachel, wait!” Robert called after me. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. Did I do something?”
I got into a taxi and told the driver to take me to the airport. Sitting in the back seat, I finally began to calm down. Cindy’s words echoed in my mind. Was Robert really dangerous?
When I arrived at the airport, my stomach dropped. Robert was there, waiting for me.
“Please, Rachel, talk to me,” he said, approaching me cautiously. “What did I do wrong?”
“This trip was a mistake. Just leave me alone,” I said, trying to stay calm.
“It’s all because of her, isn’t it?” he asked, his face etched with anger and sadness.
“Who?” I was genuinely confused.
“A woman around thirty, blonde hair, flower tattoo on her right arm? Name’s Cindy.”
“Yes, she said she’s a detective. Is that true?” I gasped.
Robert’s face fell. “She’s not a detective,” he confessed. “She’s my ex-girlfriend. She’s been obsessed with me… stalking me for two years, ruining my relationships. I didn’t tell you because I thought it was over. I’m so sorry.”
I didn’t know what to believe. “You should have told me about her. Now I’m scared and can’t trust you.”
“I understand,” Robert said softly. “I made a mistake by not being honest with you. I was afraid that if I told you about Cindy, you’d think I was damaged goods or something. I really like you, Rachel, and I didn’t want to scare you away.”
“But now I’m more scared than ever,” I replied, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Robert said, reaching out but stopping short of touching me. “Please, let me help you get back to the States. You can take the ticket I bought. I’ll stay here and come back tomorrow.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, still wary.
“Absolutely,” he nodded. “Your safety and comfort are what matter most to me right now. I hope that one day, when you’re back home and feeling safe, you’ll give me a chance to explain everything properly.”
On the flight home, I couldn’t stop thinking about everything that had happened. Who was telling the truth?
Once I was back in Chicago, I decided to find out more about Robert and Cindy.
I contacted a private detective. Over the next few days, I found some of the women Robert had dated. They were alive and well but confirmed that Cindy had harassed them, forcing them to quit their jobs and disappear from Robert’s life.
This supported Robert’s story, but I still had doubts.
One evening, my phone rang. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?” I nervously answered.
“It’s Cindy. Robert is dangerous. I’m just trying to protect you,” a woman spoke.
“Cindy? How did you get my number?” I asked, my heart racing.
“That’s not important,” she replied urgently. “What matters is that you understand the danger you’re in.”
I listened as she detailed Robert’s supposed manipulations and sent me a file of disturbing information about his past.
“But why should I believe you?” I asked. “The other women I spoke to said you were the one harassing them.”
“They’re afraid of him,” Cindy insisted. “Robert has a way of making people believe whatever he wants them to. Please, you have to trust me.”
Unsure of who to believe, I agreed to meet Cindy at a café. She seemed sincere and provided more evidence against Robert.
But a shiver ran down my spine as I listened. Despite her convincing story, a shadow of doubt lingered. My gut told me Robert held the missing piece.
I decided to confront him.
He looked genuinely distressed and denied everything, showing me a restraining order he had against Cindy.
“Rachel, I know this whole situation is confusing and scary,” Robert said. “But I swear to you, I’ve never hurt anyone. Cindy is the one who’s been causing all this trouble. I should have told you about her from the beginning, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“But why would she go to such lengths?” I asked, still uncertain.
“She… she has some mental health issues,” Robert explained hesitantly. “When we broke up, she couldn’t accept it. She became obsessed with the idea that I was some kind of predator. I’ve tried to get her help, but she refused.”
As I reflected on the situation, it became clear that Robert and Cindy each held their own perspective on the truth. The actual reality, I suspected, lay somewhere in the middle of their conflicting narratives.
Recognizing the potential danger to my well-being, I decided to cut ties with both of them.
During our last exchange, I mustered up the courage to tell Robert, “I’m afraid I can’t continue being a part of this, Robert. The situation has become far too intricate and perplexing for me to handle.”
With those words, Robert and I went our separate ways.
This whirlwind experience served as a powerful lesson in the importance of trusting my gut instincts and exercising caution when allowing new people into my life.
While the dream trip to Paris had been thrilling, it also served as a sobering reminder that appearances can be deceiving. I learned that sometimes, the wisest course of action to protect yourself is to walk away from trouble.
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