I arrived home earlier than expected, eager to surprise my husband. But instead of a warm embrace, I found him in the backyard, drenched in sweat, frantically digging a hole.
Beside him sat a massive, gleaming black egg.
When he refused to tell me the truth, I had no choice but to uncover it myself. What I found sent my heart racing.
The Surprise That Wasn’t
The Chicago business conference had drained me. Three days of endless meetings, late-night networking, and presentations that blurred into one another. But as exhausting as it was, something else had been weighing on me more.
Lately, my marriage had felt… off. Three years together, yet in recent months, Ben and I had become strangers—two people sharing a house, but not a life. So when my last meeting wrapped up ahead of schedule, I made a decision.
I was going home. Early.
“You’re skipping the closing ceremony?” my colleague Linda asked, raising an eyebrow. “The VP’s keynote could help with your promotion.”
I zipped up my bag. “For once, my marriage comes first. Ben and I need this.”
Linda smirked. “Prioritizing love over work? That’s new.”
I ignored her teasing and checked my phone. “If I leave now, I can catch the 6 p.m. flight and surprise my husband.”
She winked. “Go get your man. But text me when you land—these surprise returns don’t always go as planned.”
If only she knew how right she was.
Something Wasn’t Right
The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was off. The house was eerily quiet. No TV murmuring in the background, no music playing from Ben’s speakers. The air was stale, like no one had bothered to open a window in days.
Dishes sat piled in the sink—a strange sight, given how meticulous Ben usually was. The coffee table was cluttered with unopened mail, some marked URGENT in bold red print. A half-empty mug sat beside his laptop, the dried ring on the surface suggesting it had been there for hours.
“Ben?” I called out. No answer.
I wandered toward the backyard, expecting to find him working on his latest DIY project.
But what I found instead made my breath hitch.
The Egg
Ben stood in the middle of our vegetable patch, his clothes damp with sweat, sleeves rolled up as he shoveled dirt with a desperate intensity. His movements were erratic, frantic—like a man racing against time.
And then there was the egg.
At least two feet tall, jet black, its surface gleaming like polished obsidian. It sat beside him, impossibly smooth, reflecting the dying light of the evening sky.
Every few seconds, Ben would glance at it before digging faster, muttering under his breath.
“Just a little deeper. It has to be deep enough…”
I gripped the doorframe, my heart pounding. Was I hallucinating? Maybe the exhaustion had finally caught up to me.
“Ben?” My voice was barely a whisper.
He jerked upright, startled. His shovel clanged against something solid beneath the dirt. His face—normally composed and calm—was pale, his eyes wide with panic. A streak of dirt smeared across his cheek. His hands trembled.
“Regina?” His voice cracked. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” My gaze flickered between him and the thing beside him. “What the hell is that?”
His entire body stiffened. “It’s… nothing.” He moved to block my view. “Reggie, just go inside. You shouldn’t be here.”
I scoffed. “Nothing? That’s nothing?” I pointed at the egg. “Ben, what is going on?”
His fingers raked through his hair, leaving streaks of dirt on his forehead. He glanced toward the street, as if expecting someone.
“Please, Regina. Trust me. I’m handling it.”
“Handling what?” My voice rose. “Because from where I’m standing, my husband is either losing his mind or—”
“I said I’m handling it!” His sudden outburst made me step back.
A tense silence stretched between us.
“Fine,” I muttered, turning toward the house, my heart hammering. “Handle it yourself.”
That night, Ben never came to bed.
I lay awake, listening to him pace the living room, shifting restlessly on the couch. Around 3 a.m., the back door creaked open. Through the window, I watched as he checked the buried spot, pacing like a sentry guarding a dark secret.
Something was very wrong.
The Truth Unearthed
By morning, I had made up my mind.
The second Ben left for work, I grabbed a shovel and headed outside. My hands trembled as I dug into the freshly turned soil.
“What are you hiding, Ben?” I whispered.
Twenty minutes later, my shovel hit something solid.
I braced myself for the weight of the egg as I unearthed it. But to my shock, it was light—too light. Up close, it felt… wrong. Not like a shell, but plastic.
I twisted it slightly.
And the egg split open.
A Fake Fortune
Inside? Nothing.
No mysterious creature. No alien artifact. Just layers of black plastic.
A voice behind me nearly made me drop it.
“Regina?”
I spun around. Our elderly neighbor, Mr. Chen, stood at the fence, eyes fixed on the object in my hands.
“I saw someone in your yard last night,” he said slowly. “Everything okay?”
I forced a smile. “Fine. Just… gardening.”
He didn’t look convinced but nodded before shuffling away.
My hands trembled as I climbed into my car, needing space. Needing to think.
I turned on the radio. The news anchor’s voice cut through the air:
“Breaking news: Authorities have uncovered a counterfeit antique operation targeting collectors. The scammers sold fake black egg-shaped containers as rare artifacts, conning victims out of millions…”
My coffee cup slipped from my fingers.
Confrontation
When Ben walked in that evening, I was waiting. The egg sat on the kitchen table between us.
His briefcase hit the floor. “Regina—I-I can explain.”
I folded my arms. “How much did you pay for this thing?”
His shoulders slumped. “Fifteen thousand.”
I exhaled sharply. “Jesus, Ben.”
His voice cracked. “I wanted to surprise you. A guy at work claimed it was an ancient fertility artifact. Said it would triple in value. I thought… I thought I could sell it and take you on that Europe trip.”
“The trip we’ve been saving for?” My voice shook. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
His head fell into his hands. “Because I was stupid. Because I was ashamed. Things have been tight lately—your mom’s medical bills, the house repairs—I just wanted to fix everything.”
I sighed, softer this time. “By gambling our savings on a plastic egg?”
Ben laughed bitterly. “I filed a police report today. Turns out, I wasn’t the only idiot. This guy’s been scamming people left and right.”
I studied him before reaching across the table, taking his hand. “We’ll figure this out. But no more secrets. We’re supposed to be a team.”
He nodded, squeezing my fingers. “What do we do with it now?”
I glanced at the glossy black shell and smirked. “Maybe we’ll plant it in the garden for real.”
Ben chuckled. “As a reminder of what not to do?”
“No,” I said, leaning into him. “As a reminder that the only thing we need to grow is trust.”