Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. I’ve replayed the last two weeks over and over, and it still doesn’t feel real. So, here I am, sitting on a rocking chair in my son’s nursery, trying to understand what has been going on in my life.

Jack and I have been married for six years. I thought we were solid, the type of couple who told each other everything. I mean, we’re expecting our first child in three months, and life should’ve been simple, exciting even.

But then, I found the wig.

Let me tell you everything.

My car was in the shop having all the tires replaced, so I borrowed Jack’s car to get to my doctor’s appointment. I couldn’t wait to hear our baby’s heartbeat. I was already a little sad because Jack couldn’t get out of his meeting and had called a cab to get to work. But still, I knew that he was pushing work because he wanted to be around when the baby was born.

So anyway, I reached into the glove compartment hoping to find a pair of sunglasses before I could start the car, and something fell out.

A wig. A blonde, shoulder-length wig.

I froze, just staring at it like it was going to explain itself and why it was in my husband’s car. Why would Jack have a wig? He had never mentioned anything about it.

The only explanation that made sense was that it belonged to someone else. But who? My mind raced, piecing together fragments of worry that I had ignored for weeks. All the late nights at work, sudden errands, and the distance in his eyes when I spoke about things.

My baby kicked in my belly, bringing me back to the present. I took a deep breath, maybe it wasn’t what it looked like. Maybe it was for a joke or something harmless. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

Something was going on.

That night, after dinner, I tried to figure out how to bring up the topic. I didn’t want to accuse him outright because Jack wasn’t the type to do anything to hurt me. There had to be a reason. And I knew that whatever it was, it was going to be good.

I waited until Jack was relaxed, scrolling through his phone on the couch while the news blurted out the latest in the sporting world. I cut us slices of chocolate cake and went into the living room to finally crack the case open.

“Honey, can I ask you something?”

He looked up, smiling as he took the plate from me.

“Sure, what’s up?” he asked. “Everything alright with the little guy?”

“He’s fine,” I said, patting my stomach. “Look, you know I used your car today, and I found… something. A wig. In the glove compartment.”

His eyes widened, just for a split second, then he laughed.

“Oh, the blonde one? It’s for this work thing. There’s a Halloween party coming up. I got it last week and must have forgotten about it.”

I stared at him, the facts not adding up.

“Halloween? It’s June, Jack.”

My husband shrugged, still smiling like it was nothing.

“They’re planning it early this year, Isobel. I think they’re just tired of the people with kids not showing up because they have to take their kids trick-or-treating. So, yeah…”

Every instinct screamed at me that he was lying. But I let it go. I didn’t want to be that wife, you know, the one who constantly pushed and pried and dug holes until everything fell apart.

I also just wanted us to be in a good place because we were getting so close to the birth of our baby. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The next few days, I felt like I was living in a fog.

“I’m heading to the office, honey,” he would say randomly and disappear for hours.

Sometimes he would take phone calls in the other room, anything to get away from me. I couldn’t take it, because this man used to use the loo while I was in the shower. We used to be closer than anything.

But now? Jack couldn’t wait to be alone. I couldn’t take it anymore.

So, I did something I never thought I’d do. I followed him one afternoon after he said he needed to go to the office.

“But it’s a public holiday?” I asked.

“It is, but it’s work, honey,” he said.

I waited until he pulled out of the driveway, then grabbed my keys and followed him. My heart pounded the entire time, a deep sense of betrayal taking over me.

I expected him to drive somewhere suspicious, maybe to meet someone. But he didn’t. He drove to my mom’s house.

I parked a few houses down, out of sight. My hands were still trembling. Why was my husband going to my mom’s house? And why hadn’t she mentioned it?

Jack stayed inside for about thirty minutes, and when he came out, he was wiping his eyes. He looked… completely devastated.

I sat there in my car, frozen, completely unable to make sense of it. Jack never cried, not like that.

And what could possibly be going on between him and my mom?

I tossed and turned the entire night.

“What’s wrong?” Jack mumbled in his sleep.

“Nothing,” I said quietly. “I’m just uncomfortable. It’s okay, you go back to sleep.”

I wanted to confront him, to demand answers, but something in me said to wait. I needed to talk to my mom first.

The next day, I went to her house, ready to tackle whatever was coming my way. My mother looked surprised when I showed up at her door, but she invited me in.

“Come on in, darling,” she said. “Look at you! I can’t believe how soon we’re going to meet our little boy!”

I took a deep breath and sat down on the couch.

“Mom,” I said, wanting to be straightforward. “Is there something going on between you and Jack?”

Her face went pale, and she looked away.

“Why would you ask that, Isobel? My goodness, child.”

“I’ve seen him, Mom. I’ve followed him here. I know he’s been coming over a lot, and he didn’t tell me why.”

Her lips trembled before she let out a shaky breath. Something big was coming. A confession of sorts. I could feel it.

“I didn’t want you to find out like this,” she said.

“Find out what?”

She closed her eyes for a moment before looking back at me.

“I have cancer, sweetheart,” she said. “I’ve been going through chemo, and I’m almost at the point of my hair falling off. Jack has been helping me, taking me to appointments, bringing me groceries.”

“Cancer? Mom, why didn’t you tell me?” I exclaimed, wrapping my hands around my belly.

My mother reached for my hand, tears in her eyes.

“Because you’re pregnant, darling. I didn’t want you to worry. You have enough to worry about with the baby coming. Jack wanted to tell you, he told me that he could handle it. But I didn’t want to tell you until the baby was born.”

“So… the wig?” I asked, looking carefully at my mother. I could see it now—her blonde hair was just a wig, similar to the one I found in Jack’s car.

“Jack’s been getting them for me. He’s been trying different brands because I’m struggling with how they feel on my head…”

For a moment I couldn’t breathe. It all made sense now.

“I need you to fight through whatever emotions you’re feeling right now. I’m fighting this. I have my good days and my bad days, but I’m fighting.”

Listening to my mother brought the truth to light.

Jack wasn’t sneaking around to hurt me. He was doing the exact opposite. He was trying to protect me from the truth, from learning that my mother was sick. All I could do was sit there, gripping my mom’s hand.

“I’ll be just fine, Isobel. I promise you, my darling. I’m going to be around for a long time, and I’m going to be a cool grandmother. When my hair grows back, I’m going to dye it all sorts of colors for my grandson.”

She started laughing, and it was infectious. Before I knew it, I was laughing with her until tears streamed down our faces.

That night, I found Jack sitting on the couch, staring at the TV but not really watching it. He looked so tired, so worn out. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’m sorry,” I blurted out, my voice breaking. “I followed you. I know about Mom.”

He turned to look at me, his eyes soft but full of sadness.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you. But she made me promise not to tell you. She didn’t want you to worry, love. Not with the baby coming. I just wanted to protect you. Well, I wanted to tell you…”

“I know,” I said. “Mom told me everything.”

Jack wrapped his arms around me, and we sat in silence for a while. I didn’t know what was coming next, but I hoped my mother was around to see it all.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you |

My Husband Missed the Birth of Our First Child — After Discharge, I Returned to an Empty House and a Creepy Note in the Crib

When Elena is in hospital, ready to give birth to her and Michael’s first baby, she finds herself alone with her mother. Michael was simply nowhere to be found. Upon discharge, Elena walks into the house hoping to find Michael there with an explanation. Instead, she finds a note from Michael blaming Elena’s mother for his disappearance. Where is Michael and what happened?

I always thought that the happiest day of my life was the day I married Michael. But then we found out that I was pregnant, and I figured that the day I gave birth to our baby was going to be the happiest.

Little did I know that it would be the beginning of a nightmare. Michael had promised me that he would be there, holding my hand as we welcomed our first child into the world.

We had planned every detail together, from the music that would play in the delivery room to the tiny hat he would place on our baby’s head.

But when the time came, Michael just wasn’t there.

I remember the nurses’ sympathetic smiles as they assured me that he was probably just delayed. With each passing minute, the sinking feeling in my stomach grew worse.

I had been calling him for hours, leaving desperate voicemails, but there was no response. As the contractions intensified, so did my fear. Was I really about to do this by myself? What could have kept him from being here?

“Come on, Michael,” I said through gritted teeth.

When my daughter arrived, I was overwhelmed with joy, but it was tainted by the empty spot beside me where my husband should have been. Where was Michael? Why hadn’t he shown up?

Read the full story here.

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.