Steve’s day began like any other, with a routine goodbye to his wife as he headed off to work. But as the day unfolded, his phone buzzed with urgent calls and messages from his son, leaving him on edge.
When Steve finally made it home, everything had changed. A strange man was in his house, his pregnant wife was in tears, and their son was crying. What could it all mean?
The day started off like any other. My wife, three months pregnant, gave me a kiss goodbye as I left for work, her smile as comforting as always.
“I’ll take care of dinner when I get home,” I reassured her. “No need for you to worry about it.”
Laura, who worked from home, would handle getting our son, Jackson, ready for school before retreating to relax with a book and her morning tea, eventually settling in to start her workday.
At work, I focused on approving marketing strategies and sitting through presentations, all the while mulling over baby names. But as the clock ticked past two, my phone vibrated with a call from Jackson. I was in a meeting, so I silenced the call, assuming it was something trivial.
Jackson had recently become obsessed with bowling, and he often tried to negotiate after-school outings with his friends. But when my phone buzzed again with a message, a sense of dread gripped me: Dad, please come home! It’s about Mom! I’m scared. Panic set in. I excused myself from the meeting and rushed to my car, frantically dialing Jackson’s number.
No answer.
I tried Laura next, but was met with the same eerie silence. My heart raced as I sped home, thoughts spiraling into worst-case scenarios. At every red light, my impatience grew, imagining all sorts of horrors. By the time I turned onto our street, I was a mess. Seeing my mother on the porch, her face pale and her hands fidgeting, only heightened my anxiety.
“What’s going on? Is Laura okay?” I asked, barely able to keep the fear out of my voice.
“I’m so sorry, Steve,” she replied, her voice trembling. My world began to crumble.
“What? No! What happened? Is it the baby? Tell me, Mom!”
Her expression shifted, and she hesitated before speaking again. “No, darling, she’s fine.”
“Then why are you apologizing?” I asked, feeling more confused than ever.
“I didn’t want to be the one to tell you, but Laura has been…cheating on you.” The words hit me like a ton of bricks.
My mother explained that she had come over to use our bathroom, as her building was having water issues. What she found was Laura on the couch with another man. My mom had insisted he stay until I got home.
Anger and betrayal surged through me as I pushed past my mother and stormed into the house. The scene before me was surreal: a disheveled man avoiding my gaze, and Laura, my wife, standing there with tears in her eyes.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice low and filled with rage.
The man started to speak, but I couldn’t hear him over the roaring in my ears. Laura stepped forward, her face streaked with tears. “Steve, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
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