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…
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
“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!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pixabay
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
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?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“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!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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?
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
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.
My Son Brought a Woman My Age, Saying She’s Now the Lady of the House – They Didn’t Like the Lesson I Prepared for Them
It all started the day my son, Ryan, brought home a woman about 20 years older than him and announced she was moving in. At first, I didn’t say much, but I had a plan. Let’s just say, by the time they realized the weight of their actions, it was far too late.
For years, all I wanted was to see Ryan happy and settle down with someone who would love him as much as I did. That wish intensified after my husband passed away three years ago.
But little did I know my dream would come true in a way I could never have expected.
A woman in her house | Source: Midjourney
For most of my life, I’ve been lucky. I had a loving husband, two wonderful kids, and a home that was always warm and full of laughter.
My husband, Daniel, was the kind of man who knew how to make life feel steady and secure. When he passed away three years ago, it felt like the ground beneath my feet had crumbled.
Since then, I’ve done my best to keep moving forward, even though some days are harder than others.
A woman looking outside a window | Source: Midjourney
Bella, my daughter, has been a bright spot in my life. She’s always been my dependable, hardworking child. Even as a little girl, she took pride in doing her best at school.
It wasn’t a surprise when she graduated at the top of her class and landed a great job in another city. Bella’s single now, and while I sometimes wish she’d settle down, I’ve never had to worry about her.
She’s always been focused and capable.
A woman working on a laptop | Source: Pexels
Then there’s Ryan, my youngest. Ryan has always been a free spirit.
As a kid, he had zero interest in school. His world revolved around video games, comic books, and goofing around with his friends. Back then, getting him to do his homework was like negotiating with a stubborn mule.
But something changed when he hit his late teens. Maybe it was seeing his friends get serious about their futures, or he just realized he couldn’t play video games for a living.
A man holding a controller | Source: Pexels
Whatever it was, Ryan started putting in the effort. He eventually graduated with a diploma and landed a stable job.
He wasn’t going to be the next CEO of a tech company, but he was responsible and earning a paycheck, and that was enough for me.
Ryan’s big passion now is traveling. He’s always saving up for trips, exploring new places, and returning with stories of his adventures.
A man with a suitcase | Source: Pexels
It makes me happy to see him so excited about life, even though I secretly wish he’d spend less time planning trips and more time thinking about his future.
At 30, he’s still living at home with me, which I don’t mind. After Daniel’s passing, having Ryan around has been a comfort.
But like any mother, I want more for him. I want him to find someone who makes him happy. Someone he could share his life with.
A couple holding hands | Source: Pexels
After Daniel passed, that wish only grew stronger. Honestly, it’s not about wanting grandkids. It’s about wanting Ryan to have the kind of love and partnership I had with Daniel.
“Ryan,” I’d ask him every now and then, “Is there anyone special in your life?”
He’d laugh and wave me off. “Mom, you’ll be the first to know.”
I don’t know if I was the first to know, but he told me about it after returning from France.
He opened up during dinner one day.
A man sitting in his house | Source: Midjourney
“So, Mom,” he started, poking at his plate with his fork, “I met someone on my trip.”
“Really?” I looked at him. “Tell me everything!”
He told me her name was Lydia, and he met her in an art gallery in Paris.
“She’s smart, funny, and we just… clicked,” he said, his face lighting up.
“And what does she do?” I asked, eager to know more.
“She curates art collections for high-profile clients. She’s incredibly knowledgeable about the art world, and I love how passionate she is about what she does.”
A man standing in front of paintings | Source: Pexels
“She sounds amazing!” I exclaimed. “When can I meet her?”
“Not yet,” he replied, shaking his head. “I want to take my time, Mom. Get to know her better first.”
That was enough for me. For months, I dreamed about the day Ryan would introduce me to this incredible woman.
I imagined her as young, vibrant, and full of energy. I had no idea my expectations would soon shatter in ways I couldn’t have anticipated.
A woman standing in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Months after Ryan first mentioned Lydia, he came to me with a wide grin.
“Mom,” he said, standing in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets, “I think it’s time you met Lydia.”
“Really? That’s wonderful, Ryan!” I clapped my hands together, already imagining the young, bright-eyed woman who’d won my son’s heart.
“She’s free this Friday,” he said. “Maybe we could all have dinner together?”
A man talking to his mother | Source: Midjourney
“Of course!” I agreed instantly. “I’ll make lasagna. Everyone loves lasagna.”
I wanted everything to be perfect, so I ensured everything in the house looked good.
I imagined Lydia would be bubbly and full of life, a younger woman who adored Ryan and would look up to me as a mother figure. I even pulled out my best dress and styled my hair, making sure I looked modern enough to keep up with the young couple.
A woman’s dresses | Source: Pexels
When Friday came, I could barely contain my excitement. The lasagna was in the oven, the table was set with my finest dishes, and I was putting the finishing touches on a salad when the doorbell rang.
“That must be her!” I called out.
Ryan jumped up to answer the door while I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel. I was super excited, but I froze as soon as I stepped into the living room.
Standing there was Lydia. But she wasn’t the young, fresh-faced woman I’d imagined.
A woman in her boyfriend’s house | Source: Midjourney
She was mature. Only five years younger than me, if I had to guess.
Her hair was perfectly styled, and she wore a sleek outfit that screamed sophistication. She looked more like a woman who should be attending a wine-and-cheese party with me than dating my son.
“Mom, this is Lydia,” Ryan said, beaming with pride.
“Hello, Celine!” Lydia greeted me with an enthusiastic smile, extending her hand.
“Hi,” I managed to murmur and shook her hand weakly.
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
Ryan didn’t seem to notice my shock. He led Lydia into the dining room, chatting about their day as if everything were perfectly normal.
I followed them in a daze, wondering if I’d stepped into some alternate reality.
As we sat down to eat, Ryan seemed eager to share their plans for the future.
“Mom,” he began. “I’ve been thinking, uh, Lydia’s going to move in with us.”
A man sitting with his family for dinner | Source: Midjourney
I nearly choked on my water. “Move in? With us?”
“Yes,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “It makes sense. She can help with the house, and we’ll save money by living together.”
I turned to Lydia, who smiled brightly.
“I think it’ll be wonderful,” she said. “I’d love to help out around the house and make things easier for you, Celine.”
I didn’t need help. I’d been managing the house perfectly well on my own for years. But before I could say anything, Ryan continued.
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
“It’s not just about saving money,” he added. “I love her, Mom. I think she’s the one.”
I always felt happy whenever he talked about his love for Lydia, but this time, I felt disgusted. How could he be happy with a woman almost my age?
The rest of the dinner was a blur. I nodded and smiled, but my thoughts were elsewhere.
Later that night, as I lay in bed, I wrestled with my feelings. Should I tell Ryan how I felt? Would he listen if I did? Or would he push me away?
A worried woman | Source: Midjourney
One thought kept coming back to me.
If I opposed this, I might lose my son. After losing Daniel, the idea of losing Ryan was unbearable. So, despite my misgivings, I decided to let Lydia move in.
At first, everything seemed fine. Lydia was polite and respectful, and I tried my best to make her feel welcome. But soon enough, the cracks began to show.
It started with small inconveniences.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
Lydia monopolized the bathroom every morning, leaving me with just a few minutes to get ready for the day. She used the groceries I bought but only cooked for herself and Ryan, never asking if I wanted to join.
The final straw came when she began redecorating. She swapped out my cozy floral curtains for modern, minimalist blinds and replaced my favorite armchair with a cold-looking leather recliner without consulting me.
Enough is enough, I thought. I need to talk to Ryan.
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
Later that evening, I voiced my concerns, thinking my son would understand them.
“Ryan,” I said as we sat in the living room, “I feel like I’m losing my home.”
Ryan sighed. “Mom, you’re overthinking this. Lydia’s just trying to make the house more comfortable for all of us.”
“Comfortable?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s turning it into a space I barely recognize.”
“Mom, relax,” he said. “She’s just trying to take charge of everything. It’s her way of showing she cares.”
A man talking to his mother | Source: Midjourney
“Celine, I thought you’d appreciate the changes,” Lydia chimed in. “The house needed a bit of an update.”
“It’s my house,” I said firmly. “And I like it the way it is.”
But Lydia wasn’t one to back down.
A few days later, she casually suggested over breakfast, “You know, Celine, you have a great basement. It’ll be perfect for you. Or maybe you could stay with your single daughter. You see, I need a room for my office so I was thinking we could take the master bedroom when you leave.”
A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney
“Excuse me?” I looked at her with wide eyes.
“Mom, it’s not a bad idea,” Ryan said. “Lydia needs space for her work, and you’ve been saying Bella misses you.”
I stared at them, unable to believe my son and his girlfriend wanted me to give up the home Daniel and I had built together.
I wanted to fight and tell Lydia to leave my house, but I didn’t. Instead, I did something they didn’t expect.
I signed the house over to Ryan.
A woman signing a document | Source: Pexels
A month later, my phone rang. It was Lydia.
“SO, THIS WAS YOUR PLAN?!” she screamed.
It turned out they had received the first batch of bills, including mortgage payments, utilities, property taxes, and more.
Lydia had assumed the house was fully paid off, and Ryan, as clueless as ever, hadn’t known we still had payments.
“Well,” I said calmly, “you wanted to be the lady of the house. Now act like one.”
A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“You can’t do this!” she protested.
“Being a homeowner isn’t just about redecorating, Lydia. It’s about managing everything. You should’ve thought about this before asking me to hand over the house. Welcome to the real world!”
Lydia and Ryan begged me to take the house back, which I did. But the damage was done.
I’d learned a hard truth about my son and his priorities. And while I still love him, I’ve decided to start loving myself more.
A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Jake finally introduces his girlfriend to his parents, only to discover that his father knows her. Or of her — revealing her secret life of dark restaurants and deals with businessmen…
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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