I froze when I tuned into the local radio livestream. A woman requested a special love song for my husband, dedicating it to their first anniversary. A week later, I called the same station, but for a reason my husband could never have imagined.
So, it was one of those nights where everything just felt heavy. It was pouring rain. My nerves were shot, and I just wanted to be home with a cup of chamomile tea.
As I was fiddling with the radio, trying to find something to drown out my thoughts, I stumbled upon our local DJ, Max. His goofy banter was a bit of a comfort. Then, as one of my favorite songs, “One Love,” ended, Max announced a new caller…
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“Alright folks, up next is Jessie! Who are you dedicating this song to, sweetheart?”
Jessie giggled. “Hi Max! This one goes out to the most amazing man I’ve ever met, my Ori-bear. We’ve been together a whole year now, and I can’t believe how lucky I am!”
I couldn’t help but smile. I was in love too. But then she said:
“He might get embarrassed, but everyone calls him Mr. Lamber. This song goes out to you, Oric. ‘When a Man Loves a Woman’ is exactly how you make me feel!”
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My heart stopped. Oric? That’s my husband’s name, and it’s pretty unique. The odds of another Oric alias Mr. Lamber seemed impossible. My stomach turned.
I pulled over, my hands shaking. “Oh my God… is he… is he having an affair?” I whispered, hoping the universe had played some kind of twisted joke on me.
But deep down, I knew. The song, the name, it all clicked into place. Tears welled up in my eyes as I sat there, the DJ’s voice and the song’s cheesy lyrics stabbing at my heart.
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Memories flooded back: Oric’s late nights at the office, the missed dinners, the faint scent of unfamiliar perfume. I wanted to scream, but all I could do was just sit there, numb.
Then my phone buzzed. It was Oric: “Sorry, hon! I’ll be late tonight. Have some important work! XOXO.”
Important work. Yeah, right. I knew exactly what “important work” Oric would be attending to tonight.
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He wasn’t going to get away with this. If this little radio charade was indeed proof of his infidelity, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The rest of the night was a blur.
I tried to eat, but my stomach wouldn’t let me. I just sat there on the bed, staring at my phone, waiting for a sign that this was all some huge misunderstanding.
At 3:45 AM, I heard his car. I pretended to sleep as he quietly came into the room. I wanted to confront him, to scream, but I held back. I needed to be sure.
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Morning arrived, and so did my suspicion. I called in sick, a flimsy excuse of a headache escaping my lips.
“Ah, darling, I want a break! Thought we could take a long drive,” I turned to Oric. His eyes darted around, searching for an escape. My eyes were drilling into his, looking for hints. Any guesses about what he said?
“Actually, Suzanna,” Oric stammered, “I have a crucial client meeting this morning. Big deal, you know!” He offered a sheepish apology, suggesting a shopping spree with friends as an alternative.
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As he rummaged for his keys, I swooped in, casually picking up his phone from the coffee table.
A flush crept up his neck as he lunged for it. I held it out of reach, amusement flickering in my eyes as I swiped the screen. “Changed the password, Oric?” I turned to him.
“It’s just work stuff, honey,” he offered, a nervous chuckle escaping him. “You wouldn’t be interested, trust me. Boring stuff, you know!”
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“Isn’t that what we promised?” I countered, my gaze unwavering. “No secrets, remember?”
A weak laugh escaped his lips. “Businessmen have to keep certain things confidential, sweetheart. You wouldn’t understand.”
I met his gaze, the smile fading from my face. “Oh, is that it, Oric? Businessmen? Or something else entirely?”
He avoided my eyes. Well, how could he muster the courage to face me?
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“I, uh, I’ll give you the password later,” he then mumbled, snatching his phone back.
Later? The word sent a cold dread spiraling down my spine. Later meant enough time to disappear… to erase any incriminating evidence.
Offering a smirk, I then started sorting laundry. That’s when I noticed something strange: a long, brunette hair clinging to Oric’s collar. I was blonde. A brunette hair on my husband’s shirt screamed a story I wasn’t quite prepared to hear.
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“Oric!” I called, holding the offending strand aloft.
“What’s that, honey?” He came running.
“This,” I said, thrusting the hair under his nose. “Found it on your shirt. Care to explain?”
He took one glance, then shrugged dismissively. “Probably someone brushed against me on the bus last night.”
“The bus? Weren’t you taking the car?” I held his gaze.
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His eyes darted to the pristine black SUV parked outside. “Uh, yeah, but it broke down halfway. Took the bus to a mechanic, then he towed it.”
A lie tangled with another.
“Hold on, Oric,” I cut him off. “We both know that’s a lie. Spill it. Which mechanic did you actually take the car to?”
He avoided my gaze. Before I could unleash the full force of my anger, he mumbled something about being late. A hurried peck on the cheek, and he was out the door, briefcase clutched tightly.
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The day stretched on, suspicion gnawing at my insides. No calls, no texts, just the burning ache of betrayal and a hollow feeling in my gut. Finally, at 6 p.m., a text arrived:
“Dinner with clients. Don’t wait up. XOXO .“
The once-endearing emojis now felt like a stinging slap.
The next morning, the bed was empty, a chilling absence where Oric’s warmth should have been. In its place, two missed calls and a voice message on my phone:
“Hey babe, just a quick heads-up. Short business trip with a client. Back in five days. Love you, miss you. Mwah!”
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Five days. Five days to stew in this agonizing uncertainty. But one thing was clear: this trip wasn’t about business. It was a desperate attempt to escape the truth, a truth I was determined to unearth.
“Five days,” I muttered, quickly ringing Oric. “We’ll see about that.”
All my calls went unanswered. I grabbed the car keys and the next thing I knew, I was outside Oric’s office building.
The receptionist, a woman with a nametag that read “Sarah,” offered a tight smile. “Can I help you?”
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“Hi Sarah, I’m Suzanna. Is my husband, Oric, in the office today? He mentioned a last-minute business trip, and I was hoping to get some details.” Her smile faltered and said:
“Uh, Mrs. Lamber, actually, Mr. Lamber hasn’t been in all week.”
My stomach lurched. A concerned frown creased Sarah’s brow. “Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s fine,” I lied through gritted teeth, rushing out of the lobby and to my car.
Where was he? Was he with her? My head pounded with a million questions, each one sharper than the last.
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Five days crawled by. Every unanswered text, every silent phone call, chipped away at the last vestiges of hope.
Then, one evening, the front door creaked open. Oric stood there, exhaustion etched on his face. He wore a casual outfit I’d never seen before.
“Hey, babe,” he mumbled, offering a tired smile. “Sorry about that. Last-minute deal. Had to stay with a client to finalize everything.” I crossed my arms, not believing a word.
“That’s quite a story, Oric. Especially since I visited your office and found out a little truth. Where were you exactly? Spill it.”
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The smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of fear in his eyes. “You… you went to the office?”
“Just a little fact-finding mission, honey!” I said. “You wouldn’t believe the fun facts I learned.”
He started to stammer. “What are you talking about, babe? Don’t you trust me?”
“Of course, I do!” I echoed. “Oh, Oric, you have no idea what kind of surprise I have planned for you.” His eyes darted between me and the door. “Surprise?”
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“Oh yes,” I purred, pushing him playfully towards the bedroom. “Get ready, honey. You’re going to love it.”
He followed me, brow furrowed in confusion. But for the first time in days, a sliver of hope bloomed in my chest. The truth would come out, and tonight, the tables were finally about to turn.
“Just you wait,” I playfully whispered. “This surprise is going to be epic. You’re gonna love it, babe!”
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Minutes later, Oric emerged from the bedroom in a crisp blue suit.
He leaned in for a kiss, but I held him at bay. “Patience, honey,” I murmured. “The best things are worth waiting for.”
His eyes narrowed in confusion, but he followed me out to the car without further comment. As I pulled out of the driveway, a mischievous glint gleamed in my eyes.
“Let’s make a quick stop,” I announced, taking a detour towards his parents’ house.
Oric’s jaw dropped when he saw them waiting on the porch, smiles plastered on their faces.
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“Babe, what’s going on?” he exclaimed.
“Surprise!” his parents chorused, bustling towards the car.
My MIL squeezed into the back seat, beaming at me. “Suzanna, dear, this is wonderful! It’s been ages since we’ve all had dinner together. With Oric always so busy with work…”
I glanced at him, a pointed look in my eyes. “Yeah, right!” I said, my voice dripping with irony. “Mr. Lamber here is swamped these days.”
Oric let out a sheepish laugh, clearly bewildered by this sudden turn of events.
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As I drove to the restaurant, a glance at the dashboard clock confirmed it was showtime. I tuned the radio to the familiar station, DJ Max’s cheerful voice filling the car.
“Alright folks, welcome back! Up next is Emma, and she’s dedicating a song to the love of her life. And here we go! Enjoy the track, folks!” he chirped.
As the last notes of the love song faded away, the DJ prompted the next song’s dedication. Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number for the radio station.
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As soon as a cheery voice answered, I blurted out, “Hi, this is Suzanna. I’d like to dedicate a song with a special message to my husband, Oric.”
“Whoa there, Suzanna,” the DJ boomed. “Sounds like there’s a story behind this special song dedication! Mind sharing it with our listeners?”
A flush crept up Oric’s neck.
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Taking another deep breath, I plunged into the story. I spoke of the betrayal, the shattered trust, the way I’d stumbled upon the truth, a truth that had left me reeling.
As I spoke, I stole a glance at Oric. The color had drained from his face, replaced by a sickly pallor. A bead of sweat trickled down his temple, his gaze desperately pleading with me to stop but I continued:
“And there’s more. It seems Oric’s little secret wasn’t so secret after all. Thanks to his… ‘special friend’ who called in last week to dedicate a love song, his infidelity is out in the open. And let me tell you, Oric’s parents deserve to know exactly what kind of son they’ve raised!”
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The DJ fell silent for a moment. Then, a gentle sympathy seeped into his voice. “Suzanna, that’s a story that deserves to be heard. We can only imagine the pain you’re going through right now. Thanks for calling and here’s a song that might echo a little bit of what you’re feeling.”
As a heartbreaking ballad filled the airwaves, I pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. I got out of the car and left Oric and his bewildered parents scrambling to keep up.
I settled at a familiar table by the window. This was the same table where we’d shared our first date, filled with hopes and dreams that now lay shattered on the floor.
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Without a word, I slipped off my wedding ring. Slamming it on the table, I met Oric’s pleading gaze. “Consider this my treat,” I finally declared, “for our upcoming divorce.”
The clatter of the ring on the table echoed in the sudden silence. Oric’s parents, mouths agape, stared between me and their son, their faces etched with dawning horror.
“Suzanna, honey, what’s going on?” Oric’s mother stammered. “What did Oric do?”
“Ask your beloved son who’s playing innocent,” I countered. “The radio said it all.”
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Oric, desperation etched on his face, reached for me. “Suzanna, please,” he pleaded. “Let me explain. It wasn’t what it looked like.”
But the words rang hollow. The blind trust I’d placed in him, the years of love and devotion, all felt like a cruel joke as I said:
“There’s nothing left to explain. This marriage is over.”
His father, a stern-looking man with a salt-and-pepper beard, finally found his voice. “Oric,” he boomed, his voice heavy with disappointment. “Is this true? What Suzanna says? Were you having an extramarital affair?”
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Oric mumbled something incoherent, his gaze darting around the room like a trapped animal.
“Don’t lie to your father,” his mother snapped. “We deserve the truth.”
Shame finally flickered in Oric’s eyes. He hung his head, a defeated sigh escaping his lips. “There is someone else,” he finally confessed. “But it meant nothing. It was a mistake.”
“A mistake that destroyed our trust, our future,” I choked out. “You lied to me, Oric. For how long? How would you feel if I did this to you?”
He remained silent. But his damn silence wasn’t gonna fix things.
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“I can’t stay here,” I declared. “I need some air.”
With a final, withering glance at Oric, I pushed myself away from the table and walked out of the restaurant, the clatter of the wedding ring against the table echoing in my wake.
It broke my heart to do this, but tell me, was what he did right? Did I deserve to live a life of lies with a man who not only cheated on me but also wished to keep me in the dark all my life?
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Here’s another story about how a woman unraveled her husband’s secret when their daughter chirped about her new teacher, “Daddy has a picture of her!”
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.
Woman Invites Man She Met Online to Her Home, Then Finds His Photo at a Cemetery Before His Arrival — Story of the Day
Margaret, a lonely career woman, eagerly awaits the arrival of Colin, a man she met online. But just hours before he is due, a call from a friend leads her to a nearby cemetery. There, she is horrified to see a photo of Colin on another man’s grave. Is Colin really who he claims to be?
The sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over the pristine furniture as Margaret cleaned the house.
She had always kept her home immaculate, a reflection of her orderly and disciplined life. Every corner was spotless, every item in its place. Cleaning was a routine she found both comforting and necessary, a way to fill the void in her life.
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All her life, Margaret had prioritized work and setting up her own life. At nineteen, she was already living alone, working two jobs as a cook to pay for her education.
By twenty-five, she was building a career as a restaurant manager and saving for her own restaurant. Her hard work paid off, and by forty-five, Margaret had everything—a successful restaurant, a beautiful house, and a nice car.
Yet, despite all her achievements, personal happiness had eluded her. She always thought that once she set up her life, a family would come naturally. But when she realized she wanted and needed a family, it was too late.
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Margaret had little experience in interacting with men and even less in building a family. At work, the men were intimidated by her position and her success.
She was respected but also seen as unapproachable. Finding a partner at forty-five turned out to be much harder than she had ever imagined.
As Margaret continued cleaning, her phone suddenly chimed with a message. She paused, her heart skipping a beat, and quickly took out her phone. A smile spread across her face when she saw it was a message from Colin.
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She had recently met Colin online, and their communication had developed quickly. Colin understood Margaret; they talked about books, movies, food, and their views on the world.
They had so much in common, but there was a problem. Colin lived in another city, and they hadn’t met yet.
Margaret had been afraid to suggest meeting because she had lied about her age. She told Colin she was thirty, fearing he would reject her if he knew the truth.
She never thought their relationship would progress this far, but now she was ready to meet him in person. She typed out a message: “Colin, we’ve been talking for over a month now, and I really want to meet you.”
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Margaret felt anxious, like a teenager waiting for his response. She kept checking her phone repeatedly, getting frustrated and putting it back face down.
Finally, the reply came, “That’s a great idea, Margaret. I really want to meet too, but I have nowhere to stay in the city. I don’t like staying in hotels.”
Without thinking, Margaret replied instantly, “No problem, stay with me!”
Realizing that her offer might be interpreted as an intimate suggestion, she began to write that she didn’t mean it that way. But Colin responded quickly, “Great, I’ll arrive tomorrow evening. I can’t wait to meet you!”
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Everything was set; she would meet Colin tomorrow. Margaret was overwhelmed with emotions. She was happy to finally meet him but also scared.
She had lied to him about her age, and she feared that when he found out she was much older, he would leave her.
She paced around the living room, her thoughts racing. She imagined their first meeting, worrying about how he would react. But it was too late to back out now; she had to go through with it.
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The next day, Margaret was a whirlwind of activity, preparing for Colin’s arrival. She meticulously cleaned the house, ensuring every corner was spotless.
She decorated the kitchen with fresh flowers and set the table with her best dishes. The aroma of a delicious dinner filled the house as she cooked Colin’s favorite meals, ready to warm up and serve when he arrived.
Everything was ready. As the evening approached, Margaret’s excitement and nerves grew. She was just about to sit down and relax for a moment when her phone rang. Seeing it was her colleague, Alice, she answered quickly.
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“Margaret, hi. I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I have a very urgent request,” Alice said, her voice sounding strained.
“I’m listening, Alice. Did something happen at the funeral? Maybe I can help?” Margaret asked, remembering that Alice was supposed to be at a funeral that day. She had requested a day off from work for it.
“I feel so awkward asking this, but my car is stuck nearby,” Alice explained, sounding embarrassed.
“Of course, I’ll help. I’ll be there in ten minutes, don’t worry!” Margaret responded without hesitation.
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Margaret wanted to support Alice, understanding that if Alice had called her, it wasn’t just about the car. Most likely, she was struggling to cope with her husband Nathan’s death. So she quickly grabbed her keys and headed out the door.
As she drove, Margaret thought about Alice and how hard it must be to deal with such a loss. She hoped that helping Alice would provide some comfort.
Despite her own nervousness about meeting Colin, she felt a strong sense of responsibility to be there for her friend in need.
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Arriving at the scene, Margaret found Alice standing beside her car, looking helpless and distressed. Without wasting any time, she got to work. She attached Alice’s car to hers with a tow rope and quickly pulled it out of the ditch.
The task was surprisingly easy, almost as if Alice could have done it herself. Margaret brushed off her hands and turned to Alice.
“All set,” Margaret said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.
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“Thank you so much, Margaret,” Alice replied, her voice trembling. “I don’t know what I would have done without you.”
As they stood by the side of the road, Alice’s composure crumbled. She broke down in tears, unable to hold back the flood of emotions any longer. Margaret stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her in a comforting hug.
“It’s just so hard,” Alice sobbed. “Ever since Nathan died, everything feels impossible. I thought I could handle today, but I can’t.”
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Margaret’s heart ached for her friend. She knew how much Alice loved Nathan and how difficult the past few months had been for her. “I’m so sorry, Alice. It’s okay to feel like this. You don’t have to go through it alone.”
Alice wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Would you walk with me back to his grave? I can’t bring myself to go alone. The guests have left, and I can’t bear the thought of going home to an empty house without him.”
“Of course,” Margaret said softly. “I’ll be right beside you.”
They walked together through the cemetery, the air heavy with the scent of flowers and freshly turned earth.
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Margaret supported Alice by the arm, offering silent comfort as they moved between the rows of headstones.
As Margaret gazed around the cemetery, her eyes were drawn to a photo on one of the nearby graves. Her breath caught in her throat as she recognized the face. It was a picture of Colin.
She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She walked closer, her heart pounding, and compared it to the photo she had seen in Colin’s online profile. It was the same person.
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At that moment, fear and confusion washed over Margaret. What could this mean? Who had she been talking to all this time? She felt a chill run down her spine.
Margaret carefully took out her phone and sent a message to Colin, her hands shaking. “Hi, is everything still on for today?”
The reply came quickly, “Yes, of course, I’ll be there at eight!”
Margaret didn’t know what to think. She was scared, her mind racing with questions and doubts, but she knew she needed to find out the truth.
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There had to be some explanation. Maybe it was a misunderstanding, or perhaps there was another explanation she hadn’t considered.
She turned to Alice, giving her one last supportive squeeze. “Alice, I need to go. But please call me if you need anything. I’m here for you.”
“Thank you, Margaret,” Alice said, her voice weak but grateful. “You’ve done so much for me today.”
Margaret said her goodbyes and drove home, her thoughts a jumble of fear. As she navigated the familiar streets, she tried to calm herself. She needed to be composed and ready for Colin’s arrival, no matter what happened.
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Everything was ready: a set table, flowers, and a delicious dinner. Waiting by the door, her mind whirled with thoughts and emotions, especially the mysterious photograph at the cemetery.
As she waited by the door, peeking out the window, her mind was a whirl of thoughts and emotions.
She couldn’t stop thinking about what awaited her, who was coming to her home, and the mysterious photograph she had seen at the cemetery.
Finally, she saw a car park near the house. Her heart raced as she watched a man step out, holding a bouquet of flowers.
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But when Margaret saw his face, she was shocked. He didn’t look like the man in the photos at all. Panic set in, and Margaret quickly hid behind the door, unsure of what to do.
Colin approached the door and rang the bell. Margaret remained silent, her mind racing with fear and confusion. The doorbell rang again, but she didn’t move. Finally, Colin spoke, his voice gentle and apologetic.
“I know you’re inside, Margaret. I can understand why you’re not answering. I don’t look like the man in the photos. I’m really sorry.”
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Margaret’s heart pounded in her chest. She hesitated, but then she heard Colin placing the bouquet down at the doorstep. “I’ll leave these here and go,” he said. “I’m sorry for the deception. I just wanted to meet you so badly.”
As he turned to leave, Margaret couldn’t take it anymore. She opened the door, her voice trembling. “Wait.”
Colin stopped and turned around, his eyes meeting hers. He looked relieved to see her. “Margaret, I’m so sorry. I can explain.”
They stepped inside, the tension between them palpable. Margaret took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. “Why did you lie about your appearance, Colin?”
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Colin looked down, his expression filled with regret.
“It’s hard for me to meet someone. I have almost no experience in relationships. I was very anxious and created a profile with a photo of a handsome man because I thought no one would be interested in the real me. I wanted to tell you many times, but I was afraid you would stop talking to me.”
Margaret listened, her heart softening. She could see the sincerity in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter what you look like, Colin. What matters is that you didn’t lie to me about who you are inside.”
Margaret gasped, feeling a pang of guilt. “I lied too. I said I was thirty, but I’m actually older… I’m forty-five. I was worried you wouldn’t want to meet someone so old…”
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Colin stepped closer, looking into her eyes. “Age doesn’t matter to me, Margaret. You’re beautiful, and I’ve enjoyed every conversation we’ve had. I’m just glad we’re finally meeting in person.”
A smile spread across Margaret’s face. “It’s funny, isn’t it? We both pretended to be someone else because we were afraid.”
Colin chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Yes, it is. But maybe that’s a sign that we have more in common than we thought.”
Margaret felt a sense of relief wash over her. “Would you like to come inside? We can have dinner and start over, without any lies this time.”
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Colin smiled warmly. “I’d like that very much.”
They walked inside together, leaving the flowers on the doorstep as a reminder of their fresh start. As they sat down for dinner, they talked and laughed, sharing their true selves with each other.
The fear and uncertainty began to fade, replaced by a growing connection and understanding. They both knew that building a family couldn’t be based on lies, and this honest beginning was the first step toward something real and lasting.
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