“Everything okay?” I asked as we sat down.
Fiona glanced up, startled. “Oh, yeah. Just checking something quick.”
I nodded, trying to hide my disappointment. This was supposed to be our special night, but she seemed a million miles away.
The waiter appeared with menus. “Can I interest you in our anniversary special? A bottle of champagne to start?”
“That sounds perfect,” I said, smiling at Fiona. “What do you think, honey?”
She was staring at her phone again. “Hm? Oh, sure. Whatever you want.”
I sighed and ordered the champagne. As the waiter walked away, I reached across the table and gently touched Fiona’s hand.
“Hey, can we maybe put the phones away? It’s our anniversary.”
Fiona looked guilty. “You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s just this new video series I found —”
I tried to keep the irritation out of my voice. “Another prank channel?”
“They’re hilarious, Aidan! You should see some of these —”
I tuned out as she launched into a description of the latest viral prank. My mind wandered back to the past few weeks, and I felt my stomach tighten.
It had started innocently enough, Fiona showing me funny videos on her phone, and both of us laughing. But then she’d started trying to recreate them at home.
There was the time she jumped out from behind the shower curtain, nearly giving me a heart attack. The fake spider in Nora’s lunchbox that made our daughter cry. The “broken” glass prank that left Callum afraid to touch anything in the kitchen for days.
Each time, Fiona would laugh it off. “It’s just a joke!” she’d say. “Don’t be so serious!”
But I’d seen the fear in our kids’ eyes, felt the constant tension in my own shoulders. It wasn’t funny anymore. It was exhausting.
I snapped back to the present as the waiter returned with our champagne. Fiona was still talking, gesturing animatedly about some YouTuber’s latest stunt.
Fiona stood up abruptly. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back.”
I watched her walk away, a sense of unease growing in my stomach. Something felt off.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted behind me. I turned to see Fiona stumbling between tables, clutching her throat.
“I can’t breathe!” she gasped, falling to her knees. “Help me!”
The restaurant erupted in chaos. People rushed to her side, calling for help. I sat frozen, unable to process what was happening.
Then Fiona started laughing. “Just kidding!” she announced, getting to her feet. “It was a prank!”
The silence that followed was deafening. I felt the eyes of every patron boring into me. Fiona grinned, oblivious to the horror on everyone’s faces.
“Ma’am, that was extremely inappropriate,” the manager said, approaching our table. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
I stood up, grabbing my coat. “I’m leaving,” I said, my voice tight with anger. “Without my wife. You can get an Uber home on your own,” I informed her.
Fiona’s smile faltered. “Aw, come on. It was just a joke!”
I didn’t even respond. I couldn’t even look at her. I rushed out to the car and made off before she had time to respond — besides, she needed to settle the bill anyway.
As soon as I got home, I headed for the kids’ rooms. “Pack a bag,” I told Nora and Callum. “We’re going to Uncle Declan’s for a bit.”
An hour later, I was knocking on my brother’s door, two sleepy kids in tow. Declan took one look at my face and ushered us inside without a word.
“Guest room’s all yours,” he said, helping me with the bags. “Want to talk about it?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight. Thanks, bro.”
My phone buzzed incessantly with messages from Fiona. I ignored them all and tried to sleep.
The next morning, I woke to find 37 missed calls and twice as many texts. I scrolled through them, my anger reigniting.
“You’re overreacting.”
“It was just a joke!”
“How could you embarrass me like that?”
“You owe me an apology.”
I tossed the phone aside, disgusted. How could she not see how wrong she was?
As if on cue, my phone rang again. This time, it was Greta, Fiona’s mom. I hesitated before answering.
“Aidan! What’s this I hear about you abandoning my daughter at a restaurant?” Greta’s voice was shrill with indignation.
I took a deep breath. “Hi, Greta. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh? Then explain it to me, young man. Because from where I’m standing, you left your wife alone on your anniversary. That’s pretty low.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache coming on. “Fiona pulled a prank, Greta. A bad one. She pretended to choke in the middle of a crowded restaurant.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “She did what?”
I recounted the events of the previous night, including Fiona’s recent obsession with pranks and how it was affecting our family.
When I finished, Greta was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed heavily. “Oh, Aidan. I had no idea it had gotten this bad.”
“Yeah, well. Now you know.”
“I… I don’t know what to say. If things are really this bad, I… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted a divorce.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Divorce? Is that where we were headed?
“I don’t know, Greta,” I said honestly. “I just need some time to think.”
After we hung up, I sat on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands. Was this really the end of our marriage?
I spent the day in a daze, mechanically going through the motions of caring for the kids. By evening, I’d made a decision.
I called Fiona. “Meet me at the restaurant tomorrow at 7 p.m. We need to talk.
She agreed immediately, sounding relieved. I hung up before she could say more.
The next night, I arrived at the restaurant early. My palms were sweaty as I clutched the envelope containing the divorce papers I’d had drawn up that afternoon.
Fiona walked in, looking smaller and more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her hair disheveled.
“Hi,” she said softly, as she took a seat alongside me.
“Hi,” I replied, my throat tight.
We sat in awkward silence for a moment. Then Fiona burst out, “Aidan, I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or the kids. I just got carried away with the pranks and —”
I held up a hand to stop her. Without a word, I slid the envelope across the table.
Fiona’s hands shook as she opened it. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at.
“No,” she whispered, tears spilling down her cheeks. “Please, Aidan, no. We can work this out. I’ll stop the pranks, I promise. Please don’t leave me.”
I let her cry for a moment, my own eyes stinging. Then I took a deep breath.
“It’s a prank,” I said quietly.
Fiona’s head snapped up. “What?”
“The divorce papers. They’re not real. It’s a prank.”
Her mouth opened and closed, no sound coming out. I leaned forward, my voice intense.
“This is what it feels like, Fiona. This is how your pranks make us feel. Scared, hurt, betrayed. Is this what you want for our family?”
Fiona’s face crumpled. “No,” she sobbed. “God, no. I’m so sorry, Aidan. I never realized…”
I reached across the table and took her hand. “I love you, Fiona. But this has to stop. No more pranks. Ever. Can you promise me that?”
She nodded vigorously, squeezing my hand. “I promise. No more pranks. I’ll delete all those stupid videos. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I exhaled slowly, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. “Okay,” I said. “Then let’s go home.”
As we stood to leave, Fiona hesitated. “Aidan? Thank you for not giving up on us.”
I pulled her into a hug, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair. “We’re in this together,” I murmured. “For better or worse, remember?”
She laughed softly, a sound I realized I’d missed. “I remember. Let’s aim for ‘better’ from now on, okay?”
I nodded, feeling cautiously optimistic for the first time in weeks. As we walked out of the restaurant hand in hand, I knew we had a long way to go. But at least now, we were on the same page.
And there wasn’t a prank in sight.
What would you have done?
My Wedding Night Was Ruined by an Old Photo I Found in My Husband’s Room
My wedding night should have been the happiest moment of my life, but it turned into a nightmare when I saw an old photo in my husband’s childhood room. The man smiling in the picture wasn’t a stranger.
The day had been magical. The lace of my wedding dress still felt soft against my skin, and my cheeks hurt from smiling all day. Tyler and I had promised forever, with our families and friends cheering us on. It felt like a fairytale.
A groom and a bride kissing | Source: Pexels
Now, the guests were gone, and the house was quiet. Tyler’s parents’ big country home was warm and inviting, with the scent of flowers and candles lingering in the air.
I stood in his childhood room, waiting for him to finish showering. The day had been perfect, and I couldn’t believe I was finally his wife.
A childhood bedroom | Source: Midjourney
I wandered around the room, taking in the pieces of his life before me. The soccer trophies, the books, and especially the family photos. They made me feel connected to his story.
That’s when I saw it.
It was a small photo on the table near his bed. I wasn’t planning to pick it up, but something about it caught my eye.
A woman looking at a man’s photo | Source: Midjourney
The man in the photo had big glasses, suspenders, and a kind smile. His hand rested on the shoulder of a young boy who must’ve been Tyler. My heart skipped a beat, and I felt the blood drain from my face.
I leaned closer, staring at the older man’s face. My fingers trembled as I picked up the frame. It couldn’t be.
It was him.
A grandfather and his grandson in his garden | Source: Midjourney
My pulse raced as memories I’d buried for years came rushing back. The man’s face was burned into my memory. It didn’t make sense. Why would his photo be here, in Tyler’s room?
I clutched the photo, my hands shaking. My chest felt tight, and my breath came in short gasps. I needed answers, and I needed them now.
Without thinking, I stormed into the bathroom. “Tyler!” I shouted, my voice shaking.
A woman shouting | Source: Pexels
Tyler yelped in surprise. “Babe, what the—can I get some privacy here?”
“Who is this?!” I shoved the photo toward him. My hands were trembling, and I could barely keep the tears from spilling over.
He frowned, looking confused. “What’s going on? That’s my grandpa. Grandpa Terry. Why are you freaking out?”
A confused man | Source: Pexels
I couldn’t breathe. The room felt like it was spinning. “Tyler, this man—this man—” My voice cracked. I felt like a child again, standing on the sidewalk, watching the crash.
“What?” Tyler stepped closer, concern etched on his face. “What are you talking about?”
I could barely get the words out. “This man killed my brother.” Tears streamed down my face as the memories hit me all at once.
A frowning woman | Source: Pexels
“I was a kid. My brother used to take me for rides in his car. One day, there was an accident. A car hit us, hard. I was waiting on the sidewalk, but I saw everything.”
We stood there, staring at each other, both of us shaken to the core. Neither of us knew what to say next.
A woman holding her husband | Source: Pexels
Tyler sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, running his hands through his damp hair. He looked at the photo, then back at me. His face was pale, his voice trembling. “I… I don’t know how to tell you this.”
“Just say it,” I whispered, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. My heart was pounding, my stomach twisted in knots.
A woman crying with her eyes closed | Source: Pexels
Tyler exhaled shakily. “Grandpa Terry… he told us about an accident. Years ago. I didn’t know the details. He only talked about it once, when I was a kid.”
I stared at him, barely able to breathe. “What did he say?”
“He said he was in a crash. He panicked and left the scene. He confessed to the police a few days later. He told them everything. The court said it was both his and the other driver’s fault. He went to prison for six years.”
A sad man | Source: Pexels
I blinked, stunned. “Prison?”
Tyler nodded, his voice breaking. “When he got out, he swore he’d spend the rest of his life trying to be a better man. He’s been the heart of our family ever since. He’s… he’s not the man you remember from that day.”
My hands clenched into fists. “He left my brother there, Tyler. He didn’t even try to help him!”
A couple arguing in their kitchen | Source: Pexels
Tyler’s voice cracked. “I know. I know, and he’s never forgiven himself for it. He carries it every single day. But he’s also the man who raised my mom, who taught me to be kind, who welcomed you into this family with open arms.”
I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “That doesn’t erase what he did.”
A crying woman looking into the camera | Source: Pexels
“No, it doesn’t,” Tyler admitted. “But he’s spent his life trying to make up for it. He’s not perfect, but he’s not a monster either.”
I turned away from Tyler, my chest heaving as I tried to make sense of it all. My mind raced, dragging me back to that awful day.
It was loud—metal crunching, glass shattering. I turned to see his car, smashed on the driver’s side. My brother wasn’t moving. I froze, unable to scream or run.
A crashed car | Source: Pexels
And then I saw him. The other driver. He got out, looked around, and then… he just left. He didn’t check on my brother. He didn’t call for help. He just drove away.
My throat tightened as the memory faded. I looked back at Tyler, my voice shaking. “I was a kid, Tyler. I watched my brother die. And your grandfather—he didn’t care. He just left him there.”
A crying woman in her bedroom | Source: Pexels
Tyler’s face crumpled. “He cared, Claire. He just… he made the worst decision of his life that day. And he’s been trying to make it right ever since.”
I didn’t know what to say. My anger burned hot, but there was something else too—confusion, exhaustion, maybe even guilt.
“I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I said quietly.
A sad man covering his face with his hands | Source: Pexels
Tyler looked at me, his eyes filled with pain. “I don’t expect you to. But, Claire, I need you to know… he’s not that man anymore. And I love you. I don’t want this to come between us.”
I swallowed hard, my emotions swirling. “I need time.”
I needed clarity. My hands trembled as I dialed my mom’s number, tears streaking my face. She answered after the second ring.
“Claire? Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”
An elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“Mom,” I choked out, “did you know? About the man who caused the accident—Tyler’s grandfather?”
There was a long pause. “Claire,” she began softly, “we didn’t tell you. You’d already been through so much.”
I pressed the phone harder to my ear, the lump in my throat making it hard to speak. “Mom, I don’t understand. How could you hide something like this from me? All these years, you never thought I had a right to know?”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
My mom sighed deeply. “Claire, we were trying to protect you. After your brother’s death, you were devastated. You stopped talking for weeks, barely ate. Telling you everything wouldn’t have helped you heal—it would’ve made things worse.”
“But you let me believe he just got away with it!” I said, my voice rising. “I lived with this idea that he never paid for what he did.”
A concerned woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
“Sweetheart,” she said gently, “he didn’t get away with it. He went to prison. The court ruled it wasn’t entirely his fault. Your brother was speeding, Claire. Both of them made mistakes that day.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. “Why didn’t you tell me that either?”
“You were just a child,” she said softly. “You adored your brother, and we didn’t want to tarnish his memory for you. We thought we were doing what was best.”
A crying woman looking to her side | Source: Pexels
I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears. “I met him today, Mom. Grandpa Terry. He looked me in the eye and wished me a happy life, and I had no idea. How could you let me walk into that?”
“I didn’t know he’d be there,” she admitted. “If I had, I would’ve told you. But Claire… maybe this is a chance to heal, for all of us.”
Her words lingered in the air, heavy and bittersweet. “You think I should forgive him?”
A smiling woman talking on her phone in her living room | Source: Pexels
“I think that’s something only you can decide,” she said. “But don’t let this ruin your happiness, Claire. Tyler loves you, and you deserve a fresh start.”
I felt my anger soften into sadness. My parents hadn’t meant to hurt me. They’d been trying to protect me.
A sad woman hugging her knees | Source: Pexels
I sat in silence after the call, thinking about the day’s events. Grandpa Terry had greeted me warmly at the wedding, his eyes kind, his hands steady as he wished me and Tyler a happy life together.
I thought about Tyler too—how honest and compassionate he’d been, even when my anger lashed out at him.
Grandpa Terry had made a terrible mistake, but he’d also faced the consequences. He’d served his time and lived with remorse.
A sad elderly man | Source: Pexels
I took a deep breath. I loved Tyler, and his family was my family now.
When Tyler came into the room, I took his hand. “I’m still hurt, but I want to move forward. With you. With your family.”
He pulled me into his arms, relief washing over his face. Together, we chose healing over pain.
A couple hugging | Source: Pexels
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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