When my 16-year-old son offered to spend the summer taking care of his disabled grandmother, I thought he’d finally turned a corner. But one night, a terrifying call from my mother shattered that hope.
“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered through the phone, barely a breath.
A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Her words were sharp with fear, a tone I’d never heard from her. My stomach knotted. Before I could respond, the line went dead.
I stared at my phone, disbelief mixing with shock. My strong, fiercely independent mother was scared. And I knew exactly who “him” was.
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
My son had always been a handful, but lately, he’d crossed new lines. At sixteen, he was testing every boundary he could find. Rebellious, headstrong, a walking storm of attitude and defiance.
I remembered him coming home from school, slinging his backpack down with a certain grin that I didn’t recognize. “I was thinking about going to Grandma’s this summer,” he’d said. “I mean, you’re always saying she could use more company. I could keep an eye on her.”
A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels
My first reaction was surprise and a little pride. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, becoming responsible. But looking back now, as I sped down the darkening highway, his words nagged at me in a way they hadn’t before.
I’d blinked, surprised. “You… want to go stay with Grandma? You usually can’t wait to get out of there.”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I’ll help take care of her,” he’d said. “You could even let the caregiver go, Mom. Save some money, you know?”
The more I drove, the more pieces of our recent conversations slipped into place in my mind, forming a picture I didn’t like.
“People change,” he’d shrugged with a strange smile. Then he looked up at me with a half-smile. “I mean, I’m almost a man now, right?”
A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels
I’d brushed it off then, thinking maybe he was finally growing up. But now, that smile felt… off. Not warm or genuine, but like he was playing a part.
As I drove, I remembered other details, things I’d dismissed at the time. A week into his stay, I’d called, wanting to check on my mother directly. He’d answered, cheerful but too fast, like he was steering the call. “Hey, Mom! Grandma’s asleep. She said she’s too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll tell her you called.”
A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik
Why didn’t I push harder?
My mind raced back to how it all began. It had been just the two of us since his father left when he was two. I’d tried to give him what he needed to stay grounded. But since he hit his teenage years, the small cracks had started widening.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
The only person who seemed to get through to him now and then was my mother. She had a way of disarming him, though even she admitted he was “testing her patience.”
I dialed my mother’s number again, willing her to pick up. My thumb tapped the screen anxiously, but still, nothing.
The sky darkened as the houses became sparse, her rural neighborhood just up ahead. With every mile, my mind replayed his too-smooth excuses, his charming act.
A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik
As I pulled up to my mother’s house, a chill ran through me. Her lawn, once so tidy, was now overgrown, weeds tangling around the porch steps. The shutters had peeling paint, and the lights were off, as though no one had been home in weeks.
I stepped out of the car, feeling disbelief twisting into a sick anger. Beer bottles and crushed soda cans littered the porch. I could even smell cigarette smoke drifting out through the open window.
A littered porch | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I reached for the door, pushing it open.
And there, right in front of me, was chaos.
Strangers filled the living room laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. Half of them looked old enough to be college kids, others barely looked out of high school. My heart twisted, a mixture of fury and heartache flooding through me.
A furious woman | Source: Pexels
“Where is he?” I whispered, scanning the crowd, disbelief giving way to a focused rage. I shouldered through people, calling his name. “Excuse me! Move!”
A girl sprawled on the couch glanced up at me, blinking lazily. “Hey, lady, chill out. We’re just having fun,” she slurred, waving a bottle in my direction.
“Where’s my mother?” I snapped, barely able to hold back the edge in my voice.
A shouting woman | Source: Pexels
The girl just shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Haven’t seen any old lady here.”
Ignoring her, I continued through the packed room, shouting my son’s name over the blaring music. I looked from face to face, my heart pounding faster with every step. Every second that passed made the house feel more like a stranger’s, more like a place my mother would never allow, let alone live in.
Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” I called, my voice desperate as I reached the end of the hall, near her bedroom door. It was closed, the handle faintly scratched, as though it’d been opened and closed a hundred times in the last hour alone.
I knocked hard, heart racing. “Mom? Are you in there? It’s me!”
A weak, trembling voice replied, barely audible over the noise. “I’m here. Please—just get me out.”
A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney
I felt a wave of relief and horror as I fumbled with the handle and threw the door open. There she was, sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed, and I could see dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, Mom…” I crossed the room in a heartbeat, falling to my knees beside her and wrapping my arms around her.
An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik
Her hand, frail but steady, clutched mine. “He started with just a few friends,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I told him to stop, he got angry. He… he said I was just getting in the way.” Her voice wavered. “He started locking me in here. Said I was… ruining his fun.”
A sickening wave of anger surged through me. I’d been blind, foolish enough to believe my son’s promise to “help out.” I took a shaky breath, stroking her hand. “I’m going to fix this, Mom. I swear.”
An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik
She nodded, gripping my hand, her own fingers cold and trembling. “You have to.”
I walked back to the living room, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. And there was my son, leaning against the wall, laughing with a group of older kids.
When he looked up and saw me, his face went pale.
“Mom? What… what are you doing here?”
A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“What am I doing here?” I echoed, my voice steady with a calm I didn’t feel. “What are you doing here? Look around! Look at what you’ve done to your grandmother’s home!”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I saw his mask slipping. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to freak out.”
“Get everyone out of here. Now.” My voice was steel, and this time, it cut through the noise. The whole room seemed to freeze. “I’m calling the police if this house isn’t empty in the next two minutes.”
A furious woman | Source: Freepik
One by one, the partiers shuffled out, murmuring and stumbling toward the door. The house cleared out, leaving only broken furniture, empty bottles, and my son, who now stood alone in the wreckage he’d made.
When the last guest was gone, I turned to him. “I trusted you. Your grandmother trusted you. And this is how you repay her? This is what you thought ‘helping’ looked like?”
A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney
He shrugged, a defensive sneer twisting his face. “She didn’t need the space. You’re always on my case, Mom. I just wanted some freedom!”
“Freedom?” My voice shook with disbelief. “You’re going to learn what responsibility is.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of each word. “You’re going to a summer camp with strict rules, and I’m selling your electronics, everything valuable, to pay for the damage. You don’t get a single ‘freedom’ until you earn it.”
An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“What?” His bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “And if you don’t change, you’re out of the house when you turn eighteen. I’m done with excuses.”
The next day, I sent him off to camp. His protests, his anger all faded as the summer passed, and for the first time, he was forced to face the consequences.
A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels
As I repaired my mother’s house that summer, I felt the pieces of our family begin to mend. Bit by bit, room by room, I cleared the broken glass, patched up the walls, and held on to hope that my son would come home a different person.
After that summer, I saw my son start to change. He grew quieter, steadier, spending evenings studying instead of disappearing with friends.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels
Small acts like helping around the house, apologizing without being prompted became routine. Each day, he seemed more aware, more respectful, like he was finally becoming the man I’d hoped for.
Two years later, I watched him walk up my mother’s steps again, head bowed. He was a successful gentleman now, about to graduate school with honors and enroll in a nice college. In his hand was a bouquet, his gaze sincere and soft in a way I’d never seen.
A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, his voice thick with regret. I held my breath, watching as the boy I’d fought to raise offered her a piece of his heart.
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.
I Got a Call from an Unknown Number and Overheard My Husband Say, ‘My Wife’s Cooking and Cleaning Toilets While I’m Here with You, My Love’
When my husband told me he had a work party to go to, I never suspected anything untoward until I received a call that made me stop in my tracks! What I heard on the other line had me grabbing my car keys to confront him and packing his things the next day!
You’d think after ten years of marriage, I’d know my husband, Brian, inside out. But last week, I learned that even a decade together can’t shield you from betrayal—or the satisfaction of watching karma deliver a perfect punch!
A serious-looking woman | Source: Midjourney
It started innocently enough. On a Thursday evening, Brian walked through the door humming a tune, a rare spring in his step. “Big news!” he announced. “The company’s throwing a work party tomorrow night, a team bonding thing. Strictly employees.”
He kissed my forehead and dropped his briefcase on the floor.
“It’s going to be boring, so don’t worry about coming. Just numbers talk and small talk.”
I raised an eyebrow.
A suspicious woman | Source: Midjourney
Brian wasn’t exactly the party type. His idea of fun was watching golf on TV, but I shrugged it off.
“Fine by me,” I said, my mind already spinning through tomorrow’s tasks.
The next morning, Brian was sweeter than usual. Too sweet, if I’m honest. While I cooked breakfast, he came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and murmured, “You know you’re amazing, right?”
“What’s all this?” I asked with a laugh. “Trying to earn brownie points?”
“Maybe.” He handed me his favorite white shirt, the one with the annoying button that always came loose.
A happy man holding a shirt | Source: Midjourney
“Can you iron this for me? And, oh, while I’m gone, could you make lasagna? The one with the extra cheese? You know how much I love it.”
“Anything else, Your Highness?” I teased.
“Actually, yes.” He winked while looking smug. “Could you clean and tidy up the bathrooms? You know I like the place spotless. And it wouldn’t hurt to get them spick and span just in case… guests, you know?”
I rolled my eyes but laughed along. My husband had his quirks, and for all his little diva requests, I thought he was harmless. If only I’d known…
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
That day, I threw myself into my chores. The vacuum buzzed, the washing machine churned, and the smell of baking lasagna filled the house. My cleaning playlist kept me company, and for a while, life felt… normal.
I was so deep into my work that I didn’t even notice the day had gone by until my phone rang.
The number was unfamiliar, and for a split second, I toyed with ignoring it, not wanting to be disturbed. But I picked it up anyway. “Hello?”
At first, all I could hear was music, noise, and muffled laughter. I frowned, thinking it might be a prank. But then I heard Brian’s voice. Clear as day…
A woman frowning while on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“My wife?” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “She’s probably cooking and scrubbing toilets or something. She’s so predictable! Meanwhile, I’m here with you, my love.”
I then heard a woman giggling, and my stomach sank.
I froze, the phone pressed to my ear as my world tilted on its axis. Then, the line went dead. A second later, a text came through with a single address. No words, just a location. The address wasn’t familiar, but something deep inside me knew. This wasn’t a work party. This wasn’t harmless.
An upset woman staring at her phone | Source: Midjourney
My pulse pounded as I stared at the screen. I had a moment of questioning things like was this real? Could Brian, my Brian, really be this cruel?
I didn’t cry. Not yet. Instead, I threw on a coat, furiously grabbed my keys, and drove straight to the address without thinking twice. The lasagna, which I switched off, could wait. If Brian thought I’d stay home like a clueless fool, he had another thing coming!
I knew that this could all be a prank or something else innocent, but I couldn’t risk not knowing if my husband was really cheating on me. So I had to go see for myself. The GPS led me to a sleek Airbnb on the other side of town.
An angry woman driving | Source: Midjourney
The place screamed “luxury,” with its grand entrance, sparkling windows, and pristine landscaping. A collection of fancy cars was parked in the driveway, and inside, I could see a crowd of people laughing and drinking.
My stomach churned as I scanned the faces. Either Brian was about to get the surprise of his life, or maybe I was. We’d see in a minute. As I walked to the door, a doorman blocked my path, asking, “Can I help you, ma’am?”
A suspicious doorman | Source: Midjourney
Fake smiling, I replied, “Hi, yes, I just came to drop something off for my husband quickly,” I said, gesturing to the toilet brush and cleaner in the bucket I held. Confused, the doorman stared at me and then my bucket.
“Look, he’s the tall guy in the white T-shirt,” I explained.
The doorman didn’t seem convinced but figured I wasn’t harmful, so he stepped aside to let me in. Everyone turned around and stared at me, looking all disheveled from cleaning and cooking, with a bucket in hand.
And then I saw him…
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
My husband stood in the middle of the room, his arm casually draped around a young woman in a tight red dress. He looked more alive than I’d seen him in years, laughing and sipping champagne like he didn’t have a care in the world!
Every part of me wanted to rush over to him and let loose, but another part whispered, “Be smart. Don’t just react. Make it count.” Brian spotted me almost instantly. His face drained of color, and he took a step back, nearly spilling his drink!
A shocked man embracing a woman | Source: Midjourney
“Emily?” he stammered, pulling away from the woman at his side. “What… what are you doing here?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” I said, my voice loud enough for the room to hear. “You left something at home.”
Brian blinked, confused. I reached into the bucket and pulled out rubber gloves, a toilet brush, and a bottle of toilet cleaner I’d brought with me.
“Since you like talking about my cleaning skills, I figured you might need these to clean up this mess you’ve made of our marriage.”
Gasps rippled through the crowd. The woman in red took a step away from Brian, looking mortified. But I wasn’t done.
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“You know,” I said, turning to the room, “Brian loves to play the doting husband at home. But as you can see, he’s more interested in playing house with whoever strokes his ego.”
“Emily,” Brian said, his voice low and desperate. “Can we go outside and talk?”
“Oh no,” I said sharply. “You didn’t care about privacy when you were mocking me behind my back. Why start now?”
An angry woman | Source: Midjourney
I turned to the crowd, addressing them like an audience at a theater.
“Enjoy the party, everyone. Just remember: if he cheats with you, he’ll cheat on you!”
And with that, I dropped the bucket near his feet and walked out, my heels clicking against the marble floor. But as I reached my car, my phone buzzed again. The same unknown number.
A woman looking at her phone | Source: Midjourney
“You deserve to know the truth,” the message read. “I’m sorry it had to be this way.”
My hands trembled as I called the number. I realized I never bothered to find out who had given me the tip and why. Was it a woman Brian cheated with who now felt spiteful? Or perhaps someone who wanted him for themselves?
Heck! For all I knew, it could’ve been the woman Brian was with, trying to put a spanner in the works so she could get him for herself.
The phone didn’t ring long before a woman answered. “Hello?”
A woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“Who is this?” I demanded.
“My name’s Valerie,” she said after a pause. “I… used to work with Brian.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because someone had to,” she said, her voice tinged with frustration. “I’ve been watching him lie and cheat for months. Bragging about you, laughing about how ‘easy’ it is to fool you. It made me sick.”
I swallowed hard. “How did you even get my number?”
A woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I left the company a month ago for greener pastures after working to secure the venue for the office party,” she admitted. “But before I quit, I saw what kind of man he is. I found your number in the emergency contact database. I know it was wrong, but you needed to know. My husband, Ted, was the same way. I left him two years ago and vowed never to stand by and see the same thing happen to another woman.”
Her words hit me like a freight train.
A shocked woman on a call | Source: Midjourney
“I got another female colleague to attend the party and shadow Brian, at the opportune moment, she called you and let you hear him berate you before giving me back my phone. I’ve been hiding outside the venue in my car, waiting for you to arrive and confront him once and for all. You deserved the truth, Emily.”
I should’ve been angry—should’ve felt violated—but all I felt was gratitude.
“Thank you,” I whispered before hanging up. I was ready to go home and lick my wounds and felt it pointless to meet Valerie. She’d played her part, and now it was time for me to play mine.
An angry woman in her car | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, I woke up with a clarity I hadn’t felt in years! Brian’s belongings were packed and waiting outside the door. When he came home last night, his key wouldn’t fit the lock because I put a keyhole cover we had in the house.
I don’t know and don’t care where he slept last night. His phone buzzed with a single text from me that morning: “Enjoy.”
A shocked man after looking at his phone | Source: Midjourney
And for the first time in a long time, I smiled. Not because of revenge, but because I finally took back control of my life. Divorce was the next thing on my to-do list that day, and I couldn’t wait to take him for all he’s worth!
A happy woman sitting at home | Source: Midjourney
If that story was up your alley, then you might like the next one about a wife who suspected her husband of cheating when he suddenly insisted on sleeping in the car. One night, she followed him and discovered something more disturbing than just cheating…
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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