“All men are liars.” With these words, Violet ended her radio program. Her life experiences and the countless stories she heard from her listeners had proven it. But, a date with a coworker made her question her belief. After a call from a stranger, she was convinced she had been right all along.
Violet sat comfortably in her chair, leaning slightly toward the microphone in the cozy, dimly lit studio of a local radio station.
The equipment’s soft hum and the faint buzz of the control board’s lights cast a warm, golden glow across the room.
Opposite her was James, her co-host, his posture more relaxed, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as they listened to the voice crackling through the speakers.
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“He’s pulling away from me…” Susan’s voice trembled, and a muffled sob came through.
“I don’t know what to do. We barely talk anymore. I never thought I’d turn to a radio show for advice, but I don’t have anyone else who’ll listen.”
Violet adjusted her headphones, her expression softening.
“Don’t worry, Suzy, right? That’s your name?”
Her voice was calm, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, offering comfort through the static.
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“Yes, it’s Susan,” the caller confirmed, her breath hitching.
“Well, Suzy, that’s why we have this segment—to help people like you with relationship struggles. Thank you for sharing your story. It’s brave of you.”
Susan hesitated before asking, “So… what do you think I should do, Violet?”
Violet straightened in her chair, her tone sharp yet controlled.
“The same thing I always say—forget him. He’s either cheating on you or stringing you along. Either way, you deserve better.”
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James’s head snapped up, and he raised an eyebrow at her.
“Violet, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be anything—stress at work, personal issues. Maybe he doesn’t know how to communicate.”
Violet gave him a sidelong glance.
“Or maybe he has a mistress,” she said dryly. “Let’s not sugarcoat it. All men are liars.”
The tension hung for a moment, but Violet quickly turned back to the microphone, her professional smile firmly in place.
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“Thanks for tuning in, folks. Enjoy the next song.” She flipped the switch, cutting their microphones.
Music filled the studio, and Violet leaned back, the faintest smirk playing on her lips.
James, however, shook his head slightly, unsure whether to push back or let it slide.
The studio lights dimmed slightly as the end-of-shift silence settled over the room.
Violet gathered her things—her notebook, headphones, and an oversized scarf she draped over her shoulder.
She moved with her usual efficiency, but her mind was already on the comfort of home and a hot cup of tea.
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James lingered by the console, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
His usual easygoing demeanor seemed absent, replaced by a noticeable nervousness. Finally, he stepped closer, clearing his throat.
“You were ruthless with men today, as usual,” he said, flashing her a sheepish grin. His attempt at humor was met with a raised eyebrow.
Violet paused and glanced at him.
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“You’ve been here six months, James,” she replied flatly. “I thought you’d have figured out by now what our audience expects.”
“So, it’s just for ratings, then?” James asked, tilting his head.
“You don’t actually believe all that?”
Violet shrugged, her expression unreadable.
“I never said that. What do you want, James? I was about to head home.”
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James rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Well, uh… I’ve been meaning to ask…” His words trailed off as his confidence wavered.
“Spit it out,” Violet said, smirking slightly, amused by his awkwardness. “Talking is supposed to be your job.”
He chuckled nervously, his face flushing. “Would you, um… like to go on a date with me?”
“A date?” Violet blinked, caught off guard. “Like a date-date?”
“Yes. Exactly. There’s a great place nearby I think you’d like.”
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Violet hesitated, shifting her bag on her shoulder. “James, you know I’m not big on dating.”
“Because you think all men are liars, right?” James teased. His tone was light but daring. “Let me prove that not all of us are that bad. Some of us are mostly honest.”
“Mostly?” Violet repeated, laughing despite herself. “Fine. But don’t expect miracles.”
“That’s good enough for me,” James said, his grin widening as he grabbed his coat.
The small restaurant felt like a hidden gem, the kind of place you’d never stumble upon unless someone showed you.
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Candlelight flickered on every table, casting warm, golden hues across the room while the smooth notes of live jazz wove through the air.
The musicians, tucked into a corner, played as though they were part of the room’s heartbeat, their gentle melodies making the space feel alive yet soothing.
James pulled out a chair for Violet, his movements natural, unforced. Violet raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help a small smile as she sat down.
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“Chivalry isn’t dead, I see,” she teased.
“Well, I try,” James said with a grin, taking his seat across from her.
Violet glanced around, taking in the cozy surroundings.
“This place is charming,” she admitted. “I didn’t know spots like this still existed.”
“Judging by that look on your face, you don’t go to places like this often,” James said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful.
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“I don’t go on dates often, that’s for sure,” Violet replied, smoothing the napkin on her lap.
“Really? Hard to believe. A radio host and such a beauty? You must have admirers.”
Violet’s cheeks turned pink, and she waved him off.
“Stop it. I used to date, but I gave it up a long time ago. It always felt like a waste of time.”
James tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why’s that?”
Violet hesitated before answering.
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“After dealing with betrayal, lies, and hearing all those stories on the show… It’s hard to believe in love anymore.”
James’s expression softened.
“Well,” he said gently, “not all of us are so bad.”
“Every man says that,” Violet sighed, leaning back in her chair.
James chuckled but didn’t push further. Instead, he started sharing a story about his childhood, painting vivid pictures of his clumsy adventures that left Violet laughing.
The conversation shifted naturally from funny anecdotes to deeper reflections about their lives.
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Violet found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t expected, her guard lowering with each shared laugh.
“See?” James said, grinning as she wiped away tears of laughter. “Not so bad spending time with me, is it?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Violet replied, though her smile betrayed her words.
James stood, gesturing toward the restroom. “I’ll be right back. But I want to hear the rest of your story about the bird when I get back.”
“Hurry up, or I’ll forget it,” Violet called after him, still chuckling as she sipped her water.
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Her phone buzzed on the table, interrupting her thoughts.
She frowned at the unfamiliar number and hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, this is Jane,” a hesitant voice said on the other end.
“Sorry to call so late, but James hasn’t come home, and your number was the only one I could find. Is he with you?”
“Jane?” Violet asked, her voice suddenly tight. “Are you his sister?”
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“Sister? No, I’m his girlfriend,” Jane replied sharply, the words cutting through the air like a knife.
Violet froze, the warmth of the evening draining away. Her heart pounded as Jane’s words echoed in her ears.
Without responding, she hung up, her hands trembling.
She grabbed her bag, scarf, and coat and walked briskly out of the restaurant, leaving behind the candlelight, the music, and the man she thought might have been different.
The next day at the radio station, Violet entered the studio with her usual brisk stride, her scarf loosely draped around her neck.
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Her expression, however, was anything but usual. It was cold, distant—like a door slammed shut.
She avoided eye contact with James, who was already at the control board, adjusting levels and humming softly to himself.
“Hey, Violet,” James called out, his voice light. He looked up with a smile, but it faltered when she breezed past him without so much as a glance.
“I was worried about you last night. You left so suddenly. I tried calling you—”
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“I’m fine,” Violet cut in, her tone sharp and clipped. She didn’t stop moving, setting her bag down with deliberate force.
James frowned, taking a cautious step toward her.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked hesitantly, his voice quieter now.
“You tell me,” she snapped, finally meeting his eyes, her glare icy. “Or maybe ask Jane.”
The name hit him like a slap, and his brow furrowed. “Jane? How do you know her?”
“Your girlfriend called me,” she said icily. “She wanted to know when you’d be home. Don’t worry—I didn’t keep you too long.”
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“Violet, wait—” James started, his hands raised as if to stop the invisible storm brewing between them.
“One more word,” Violet interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
James froze, his mouth half-open, then closed it. He nodded stiffly and returned to his seat, his shoulders slumping slightly.
The day dragged on in frosty silence.
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By mid-afternoon, Violet noticed something strange. James didn’t look like a man caught in a lie; he looked genuinely upset.
His face was pale, his expression distant, as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders.
Curiosity gnawed at her. By the end of the day, she found herself following him as he left the building.
Near the station’s entrance, a young woman stood waiting. Her arms were crossed, her expression a mix of anger and desperation.
“James! We need to talk!” the woman shouted, stepping closer.
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James stopped abruptly and sighed. “We’ve got nothing to talk about, Jane,” he said, his voice firm but weary. “I’ve told you before—we’re done. It has been months! Why won’t you let it go already!?”
“But I love you! No one else will ever love you the way I do! Even that coworker of yours!” Jane cried, her voice breaking.
“Enough!” James snapped. “Because of the lies you told her, Violet won’t even look at me. I’ve had it, Jane. Stay out of my life.”
Jane burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she pleaded one last time, but James didn’t budge.
Finally, she climbed into her car and drove away, leaving James standing alone. He sank onto the building’s steps, burying his face in his hands.
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Violet hesitated before stepping forward. “James…” she said quietly. “I heard everything.”
He looked up, his eyes tired but calm. “Now you know what I was trying to explain,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said softly, her voice filled with genuine regret. “But can you blame me for assuming the worst?”
“No. But not only men can lie as you can see.”
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She managed a faint smile, her defenses softening.
“Maybe not. Should we give this another try?”
James straightened, a hint of hope returning to his face.
“Why not?” he replied, a small grin tugging at his lips. “After all, tonight’s already been full of surprises.”
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Every year, Sarah had to devise a new excuse to explain to her family why they wouldn’t be visiting. “I won’t miss a single-family holiday because of your parents!” her husband Peter always insisted. But this time, Sarah stood her ground and defended her family values.
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‘You’re Just a Babysitter, Not a Real Man,’ My Wife Said Before Leaving Me with Three Kids — Story of the Day
I thought I had it all—a loving wife, three amazing kids, and a life we built together. But the night I followed her to that party, everything I believed in came crashing down.
My day always started with the familiar symphony of chaos. Timmy’s sharp cries came from his crib. Kevin crashed his toy cars together on the carpet, making explosion sounds. Meanwhile, Emma stood in front of me.
“Daddy, I have to wear my pink dress today. Everyone will love it. It’s the most amazing dress ever!”
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I nodded as I tied her hair into a neat bow.
“Of course, sweetheart. Everyone will be impressed.”
The warm, sweet aroma of chocolate cookies wafted from the kitchen. My cookies were my signature, baked and ready for the kids’ lunch snack. While the oven did its job, I focused on stitching the last piece of Kevin’s dinosaur costume.
“This has to be the coolest dino ever, Dad!” Kevin said, leaning over the table to inspect my work.
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“It will be, buddy,” I reassured him. “Just you wait.”
In the background, a soft audiobook played. It wasn’t much, just something to keep the kids entertained. Those moments brought me peace. They reminded me that no matter how much life had changed, I still had something to hold on to.
But it hadn’t always been that way.
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I used to run a successful business. Long days and nights of hard work allowed Angela and me to buy this house and pay for her law school. She had dreams, big ones, and I wanted to make them come true.
When Emma was born, she asked me to stay home temporarily so she could finish her internship. I agreed, thinking it was just for a little while. Then Kevin came along, and Angela’s career took off.
“I’ll handle the house and kids,” I told her. “You focus on work.”
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Angela didn’t even take maternity leave with Kevin, rushing back to work just two months after giving birth. Promotion after promotion followed, and her time at home dwindled to nothing.
I became the one who fed the kids, read parenting books, and even baked birthday cakes. I didn’t mind. I was proud of how capable I’d become.
That afternoon, as I stitched the last seam of Kevin’s costume, Angela came home earlier than usual. She didn’t greet me or the kids. Instead, she rushed to the bedroom.
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A few minutes later, she appeared in the hallway, transformed. Her black dress hugged her figure perfectly, and her red lipstick glistened under the light. She looked stunning.
“There’s a work party tonight. I need to be there,” she said, adjusting her earrings.
“A work party?” I asked. “You didn’t mention anything. I could’ve gone with you.”
“It’s late. It’s for work. You wouldn’t enjoy it.”
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I stood there, watching her leave without a backward glance. For a moment, an idea sparked.
I grabbed the phone and dialed our neighbor, Mrs. Graham.
“Hi, could you watch the kids for a couple of hours tonight?”
With her agreement, I turned off the oven, slipped into my best shirt, and grabbed a bouquet of Angela’s favorite lilies.
“Tonight,” I murmured, “I’ll remind her of what we used to have.”
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***
The party was alive with energy when I stepped into the venue. The music pulsed through the air, and the room shimmered with expensive fabrics and sparkling jewelry. I felt a little out of place in my simple shirt and slacks, clutching a bouquet of lilies like a lovesick teenager.
As my eyes scanned the crowd, they landed on Angela. She was on stage, the center of attention. She looked breathtaking like someone who had just walked off the cover of a glossy magazine.
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I couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride as I listened to her speech. Her words flowed effortlessly, and the audience hung onto every sentence.
My wife is brilliant. My Angela. How did I get so lucky?
I adjusted my grip on the lilies, imagining her smile after getting them.
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Her speech ended with thunderous applause. But before I could step forward, another man appeared beside her. He handed her a massive bouquet of orchids, the kind I could never afford.
Then, he hugged her. The lilies nearly slipped from my hands.
Angela’s face lit up, but not with the smile she gave me. This was warm and intimate.
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The room blurred around me as I followed them through the crowd, staying just far enough behind to avoid being noticed. They stopped near the exit. I heard her voice, clear and sharp:
“Just a little longer, and we won’t have to hide. I’m filing for divorce soon.”
My legs trembled, but I forced myself to step forward. I held out the flowers silently. Angela’s eyes widened, but she didn’t say a word. Without looking back, I turned and walked away.
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***
Angela had become someone I barely recognized. The kind, ambitious woman I once adored had transformed into someone cold and cynical. Her sharp words still echoed in my mind.
“I don’t love you anymore,” she said after that evening.
“You’re nothing more than a babysitter, not a real man.”
The disdain in her eyes cut deeper than I cared to admit. She stood in the middle of the living room, listing her demands as though reading off a shopping list.
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“I’ll take the house, the car, and all the savings. I’ll leave you with the most precious thing. The kids.”
It wasn’t an act of love. Angela didn’t want them.
The divorce dragged on, a cold and transactional process. There were no heartfelt talks, no apologies. I braced myself for the worst, but in the end, the court sided with me. I was granted custody of the children and ownership of the house.
It felt like a small victory in a losing battle.
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But from that moment, everything depended on me. I had to find a job, provide for my kids, and figure out how to rebuild a life that had been shattered.
After years as a stay-at-home dad, the job market felt foreign and intimidating.
***
One morning, as I dropped Kevin off at preschool, I stood by the classroom door, watching him run to his friends. A familiar voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Hi, Andrew.” It was Jennifer.
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She was both one of the single moms in Kevin’s class and a teacher there, someone I’d exchanged polite hellos with but didn’t know well.
“We’re looking for a teaching assistant at the preschool,” she continued. “Maybe it’s exactly what you need right now.”
Her words surprised me. Teaching assistant? I hadn’t considered anything like that.
“Do you think they’d even consider me?” I asked, doubt creeping into my voice.
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“Of course. You’re already great with the kids. Why not make it official?”
I decided to apply, and within weeks, I started working at the preschool. It wasn’t a permanent job, but it gave me enough income to cover our needs. It also came with free extracurricular activities for the kids and more time to be with them.
***
A few months later, Kevin and Emma were performing in a class play. I stood in the crowd, clapping proudly as my children took their bows.
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Then, I spotted Angela in the audience. She never attended preschool events, and her presence sent a wave of unease through me. After the performance, she approached me, her smile too wide to be genuine.
“Let’s talk,” she said sweetly. “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should give our family another chance.”
I froze. Her tone was off and calculated. It didn’t take long to understand why. Her new boyfriend had left her, and her business was struggling. She didn’t want me. She wanted the stability I provided.
“I can’t do this,” I said firmly. “You’re welcome to see the kids, but we’re not a family anymore.”
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Her expression changed instantly. The sugary facade melted away, replaced by cold anger.
“If you think you can just refuse me, you’re wrong,” she hissed. “I’ll take the kids. You don’t even have a stable job. The court will rule in my favor.”
Her words weren’t about love or parenting. They were about control. Angela didn’t care about the kids. She just wanted to win.
The stakes were higher than ever, and I couldn’t afford to lose.
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***
The weeks that followed were some of the most stressful of my life. Angela’s legal threats hung over me like a dark cloud, casting a shadow over every moment. I couldn’t sleep without her words echoing in my mind.
“I’ll take the kids. The court will side with me.”
It wasn’t just a threat. It was a battle cry, one I couldn’t afford to ignore.
Jennifer quickly became my lifeline. She was always there, whether it was to listen, offer advice, or bring me coffee when I looked ready to collapse.
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“You’ve been the primary caregiver for years,” she said one evening as we sat in my living room, surrounded by stacks of paperwork. “No court would take the kids away from you. We just need to prove it.”
Her words gave me hope, but I knew hope alone wouldn’t win this fight. Together, we worked tirelessly to gather evidence.
We found photos—birthday parties, preschool events, and everyday moments that showed me at the center of my kids’ lives. Jennifer helped collect testimonials from neighbors, teachers, and even the preschool principal, who agreed to write a letter explaining how involved I was in my children’s lives.
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The day of the court hearing arrived, Angela was already there, dressed in a sleek designer suit. As the hearing began, Angela’s lawyer argued that her financial stability ensured a better future for the children. But when the judge asked about her role in their lives, she faltered, and her polished facade cracked.
Our evidence spoke louder than her words. The ruling came down in my favor. Full custody was mine, while Angela was granted visitation rights.
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Outside, Jennifer was waiting for me. She smiled and hugged me tightly. “I told you we’d figure it out!”
Life didn’t magically return to normal after that. I continued working at the preschool, and with Jennifer’s encouragement, I enrolled in evening courses to become a certified teacher.
As the days turned into weeks, my friendship with Jennifer grew. She became a light in my life, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was still hope.
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One evening, as we sat in the yard watching kids play, Jennifer turned to me with a smile.
“You know, sometimes life has a funny way of giving you exactly what you need when you least expect it.”
She was right. Angela’s betrayal had broken me, but it also pushed me to discover my strength, my purpose, and something I hadn’t thought I’d find again. Love.
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