The dilapidated fishing boat rocked gently against the wharf as Lucas tied the final knot.
The modest cottage on the village outskirts awaited him, as it had every evening since Maria passed. There was no laughing from children, no warm hug, just the silent companionship of his thoughts and images of the lady he adored but couldn’t replace.
He looked at Maria’s portrait on the mantel. “Should’ve listened when you wanted children,” he said quietly. “Always said we had time. Now look at me, talking to your picture like you might answer back.”
Suddenly, a faint but clear sound interrupted his thoughts. It sounded like a whimper or cry carried by the wintry wind.
His heart nearly stopped when he saw it: a woven basket on his porch, with blankets stirring inside.
“Dear God,” he muttered, taking the bundle in his arms. A baby boy, no more than a few months old, looked up at him with wide, interested eyes.
“Where did you come from, little one?” Lucas searched the vacant street, but whoever had left this valuable cargo had long gone, leaving only a note in the basket:
“Don’t look for me. Please take care of him. And love him like your own. Thanks & Goodbye.”
A tear streamed down Lucas’ cheek as he remembered Maria’s comments from years ago: “A child’s love is the purest thing in this world.”
“Matias,” he whispered gently, the name returning to him like a whisper from the past. It was Maria’s father’s name, a good, robust name for a son. “What do you think about that, little one? Would you like to be Matias?”
That night, Lucas constructed a makeshift crib out of an old wooden crate, filling it with nice blankets. He placed it next to his bed, unable to stomach the notion of leaving the infant alone in another room.
“I promise you,” he whispered, reaching down to touch the baby’s velvet cheek, “I’ll be the father you deserve.”
The infant slept soundly, one little hand still curled around Lucas’s finger, as if it knew he was home.
Seventeen years passed like leaves in the wind.
Matias looked up unexpectedly one morning while they were working in the garden. “Dad? Remember when you told me about finding me?”
Lucas’s hands remain still on the tomato plants. “Of course.”
“Were you… were you ever sorry? That someone left me here?”
Lucas drew his son closer, soil-covered hands and everything. “Matias, you weren’t left here. You were given to me. The greatest gift I’ve ever received.”
Suddenly, the screech of tires outside interrupted their peaceful conversation. Lucas looked out the window and saw a sleek red Mercedes approaching. A tall man wearing an expensive suit came from the car.
The knock seemed to reverberate throughout the house.
The man’s voice was educated and cautious. “I’m Elijah. We need to talk about the boy. I’m here to take him.”
“Who on earth are you? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, his fingers pressing against the doorframe until his knuckles turned white.
“I think you do.” Elijah’s eyes fixed on a point over Lucas’s shoulder. “Hello, Matias.”
“You’re my nephew and I’ve been looking for you for 17 years.” Elijah’s voice softened. “May I come in? This isn’t a conversation for doorways.”
Elijah spoke of his sister — Matias’s mother — of her struggles, her disappearance, and her deathbed confession just weeks ago.
“She was young and scared,” Elijah explained, his perfectly manicured hands clasped in his lap. “Our father wouldn’t have understood. She ran away with you after her boyfriend, your dad, dumped her, hoping you could have a better life than she could provide at that time.”
“So she left me on a doorstep?” Matias’s voice cracked. “Like I was NOTHING?”
Elijah added, looking to Lucas, “he’s all we have left of her. And there’s so much waiting for him. The best schools, connections, opportunities. A life beyond…” he motioned to their humble surroundings.
“He’s right though, isn’t he?” Lucas’s voice broke. “You deserve more than fish nets and vegetable gardens. More than an old man’s company.”
“I want to go,” Matias said softly after a long silence.
Lucas turned, stung.
“Son—”
The goodbye was too fast after 17 years of love. Lucas helped pack a bag, his hands shaking as he folded Matias’ favorite blue sweater, which he had saved three months’ worth of fishing money for.
Lucas stood in the doorway, watching as the red Mercedes vanished, taking his heart with it. Matias’ face was tilted backward, watching him through the rear window, his hand pressed on the glass.
Days blended together. The silence was no longer peaceful, but oppressive. Lucas began talking to the chickens more, just to hear a voice — any voice — in the yard.
Then, one evening, a knock came on the door. He opened the door to find Matias standing there, with sagging shoulders and red eyes.
“They’re nice, Dad. They’re my blood. But you’re…” Matias’s voice broke. “You’re my FATHER! The only one I’ve ever needed. The only one I’ll ever need. I can’t be without you.”
“This time, I’m not leaving you… no matter what.”
He seized Lucas’ hand and clutched it fiercely, as if to compensate for the weeks they’d been away. They realized they were all each other needed.
I Set up a Hidden Camera in My Living Room to Catch My Husband Cheating — What I Found Out Instead Shattered Me
When my husband started acting strange, I suspected the worst. I decided to get actual proof of his betrayal, but what I discovered broke me down in tears! Luckily, the truth brought us closer than ever.
I had always considered myself a reasonable person, someone who approached situations with a level head. But when it came to my marriage, all that seemed to fly out the window! For weeks, maybe even months, a heavy cloud of doubt hung over my head. I believed my husband was cheating, but when I discovered the actual truth, I was shattered.
An unhappy woman | Source: Midjourney
My husband, Damien, who once filled our home with laughter and light, had changed. He’d become distant, lied about spending our money, and became quiet, almost as if he was retreating into a shell I couldn’t penetrate.
It started small, with missing dinner a couple of times, staying late at work more often than usual, and hiding his phone, which was constantly buzzing with messages he wouldn’t explain.
A man looking at his phone | Source: Freepik
At first, I tried brushing it off. People go through phases, I told myself. Maybe he was just stressed. But as the days turned into weeks, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. My mind spiraled into the darkest corners, whispering things I didn’t want to believe.
Was he seeing someone else? Was I losing him? Every time I confronted him, he would look at me with those tired eyes and offer some half-hearted excuse. “It’s just work, Lacy,” he’d say, forcing a smile. “Nothing to worry about.”
But his words felt hollow, and I couldn’t convince myself they were true.
A doubtful woman | Source: Midjourney
The breaking point came one night when he came home long after midnight, reeking of whiskey. He slumped into bed without a word, leaving me wide awake and seething with anger and fear. I needed to know the truth, no matter how ugly it might be.
I’m not proud of what I’ve done, but if you were in my place, you might have done the same thing. I needed to see for myself what was really going on.
I hated the thought of spying on Damien, but the need to know the truth was stronger than the guilt gnawing at my conscience.
A woman deep in thought | Source: Midjourney
The next day, I dusted off my old nanny camera and, with trembling hands, set it up in our living room. I angled it just right so it would capture the entire room without being obvious. I wanted to see what he got up to when I wasn’t around.
I was prepared for the worst-case scenario, catching my husband with some other woman, someone probably younger. But, for the first few days, I couldn’t bring myself to check the footage. I was too afraid of having my greatest fears realized.
A woman setting up a nanny camera | Source: Midjourney
But the tension in our home continued to grow, with Damien becoming more and more withdrawn. I couldn’t take it any longer! One evening, after my husband once again retreated into his silent shell, I sat down with my laptop and pulled up the footage.
My heart pounded as I watched the screen. I saw Damien come home, looking as weary as ever. He didn’t even bother to turn on the lights, just collapsed onto the couch and buried his face in his hands. For a moment, I felt a pang of sympathy, but it was quickly overshadowed by my need for answers.
A woman watching footage on her laptop | Source: Pexels
I fast-forwarded through the footage, watching him sit there, motionless, for what felt like an eternity. And then, he reached into his coat pocket. My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t believe my eyes as he pulled out an envelope and withdrew a letter, unfolding it with trembling hands.
My dear husband of ten years began to read, and that’s when I saw it… the tears. They started slowly, just a few drops sliding down his cheeks. But soon, his shoulders began to shake, and he crumpled into himself, sobbing quietly in the darkness. I had never seen him cry. Never.
A man crying | Source: Freepik
I stared at the screen, unable to process what I was seeing. There was no other woman, no secret phone calls or messages. Just Damien, alone in the dark, breaking down in a way I had never seen before.
I watched the scene over and over, my mind racing with possibilities. What was in that letter? Why was he hiding this from me? I couldn’t make sense of it, but one thing was clear: I needed to read that letter.
A shocked woman looking at something on her laptop | Source: Pexels
I noted which coat the envelope was in and made it a point to get a hold of it. I woke up in the middle of the night amid my fitful sleep. I couldn’t sleep because I was desperate to see what tragedy had gotten him so torn.
I rushed to where he’d put the letter and grabbed it as he slept. As I read the first lines, MY HEART SANK. There, right next to his name, it said that my husband was dying. Dying… that’s all my eyes could focus on. I couldn’t read anything else…
A shocked woman reading a letter | Source: Midjourney
Confused, I put the envelope back and stayed up, waiting for Damien to wake up, my heart racing with anticipation. By the time he came into the kitchen, he looked even more exhausted than the night before.
His eyes were bloodshot, and there were dark circles under them as if he hadn’t slept in days. “Morning,” he mumbled, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He didn’t look at me, just stared into his cup like it held all the answers in the world.
A tired man holding a cup of coffee in the kitchen | Source: Midjourney
“Damien, we need to talk,” I said, my voice trembling despite my efforts to stay calm.
He looked up at me, and for a moment, I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes. “What’s going on, Lacy?” he asked, his voice wary.
“I saw you last night,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I know about the letter, Damien. I saw you crying. Please, just tell me what’s going on.”
The color drained from his face, and for a moment, I thought he might faint. He set down his coffee cup, his hands shaking, and stared at the table.
“Lacy, I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he whispered.
An upset man | Source: Midjourney
“What’s in the letter?” I pressed, leaning forward. “Please, just tell me the truth.”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve been diagnosed with something,” he finally said, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear him. “It’s… it’s not good, Lacy.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”
Damien looked up at me, his eyes filled with tears. “It’s cancer,” he said, his voice cracking. “Terminal. The doctors gave me six months, maybe less.”
A sad man sharing heartbreaking news | Source: Midjourney
I felt like the floor had just fallen out from under me. The room spun, and I had to grab the edge of the table to steady myself.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, my voice breaking. “Why did you try to hide this from me?”
He reached out, taking my hand in his, his grip weak and trembling. “Because I didn’t want you to go through this,” he said, tears streaming down his face. “I didn’t want you to have to watch me die. I thought… I thought if I could just keep it to myself, maybe it would be easier for you.”
An emotional husband hands with his wife | Source: Midjourney
“Easier?” I repeated, my voice rising in disbelief. “How could you think that shutting me out would make this easier? We’re supposed to be a team, Damien. We’re supposed to face things together. You can’t just decide to go through this alone.”
“I know,” he whispered, his voice filled with regret. “I know, and I’m so sorry, my love. I was scared. I didn’t want you to see me like this, weak and broken. I thought I could protect you, but all I did was hurt you.”
A husband explaining himself to his wife | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed him and pulled him in for a tight hug, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.
“You don’t have to protect me from this, babe. I’m your wife. I want to be there for you, no matter what. We’ll face this together, okay? No more secrets.”
He nodded, hugging me back, his eyes filled with gratitude and sorrow. “I don’t deserve you, Lacy,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. “But I’m so glad I have you.”
An emotional couple hugging | Source: Midjourney
We held each other like that for a long time, crying for everything we were about to lose. I knew the road ahead would be unbearably hard, but I also knew that we would face it together.
Afterward, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the time we had lost, all the moments we could have spent together if he had just told me the truth. But I knew dwelling on it wouldn’t change anything. What mattered now was that we were in this together.
A woman deep in thought | Source: Midjourney
As the weeks passed, I noticed changes in Damien, both physically and emotionally. He began to open up more, sharing his fears and worries with me! We spent our days trying to make the most of the time we had left, finding small joys in everyday moments!
We went on walks in the park, had movie nights at home, and even started working on a bucket list of things we wanted to do together before it was too late! One day, as we sat on the porch, watching the sunset, my husband turned to me with a sad smile.
A happy couple sitting on the porch | Source: Midjourney
“I wish I had told you sooner, Lacy,” he said quietly. “I’ve wasted so much time hiding from you, from us.”
I shook my head, squeezing his hand. “Don’t think about that now, baby. We’re here together, and that’s what matters. We can’t change the past, but we can make the most of the time we have left.”
He nodded, his eyes glistening with tears. “I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “But I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had. You’ve made these last few months bearable, my bunny. I don’t know how I would have done it without you.”
A happy couple bonding | Source: Midjourney
Tears welled up in my eyes as I leaned in, resting my head on his shoulder.
“You don’t have to do anything alone anymore, my angel. I’m here with you, every step of the way.”
We sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, as the sun dipped below the horizon. At that moment, I realized something important. I had set out to catch Damien in a betrayal, convinced that he was hiding something terrible from me.
And while I had uncovered a truth far more devastating, it had also brought us closer together than we had been in years. For however long we had left, we would face it together, side by side, just as we always should have.
A couple sharing a happy moment | Source: Midjourney
While Damien wasn’t cheating, in the following story, Ryan’s wife thinks he’s cheating when she finds incriminating evidence in their bedroom. The evidence led her down a rabbit hole when she discovered that she couldn’t trust him anymore. Her fears were finally confirmed when she found proof of his cheating in his car. Her revenge was sweet and swift!
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.
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