Husband Was Late from Work Again, So I Went to My Mom’s – I Froze When I Heard Strange Sounds from Her Bedroom
Dan’s late nights at work had become routine, leaving me lonely and suspicious of what was pulling him away. But when a quick trip to my mom’s house revealed hushed voices from the bedroom, my world flipped upside down, forcing me to confront the truth, or so I thought.
Dan had been late again. Another long night at work, or so he said. It was happening more often now, and every time he came home, he looked more tired than the night before.
When we first got married, three years ago, things were different. We would spend the evenings together, talking, laughing, or just watching TV. Now, most nights, he barely said two words before heading to bed.
I missed him. I missed us. I wanted to understand. Work was stressful, and I knew that. But every time I saw him walk through the door, exhausted, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was slipping away. Was it just the job? Or was something else going on?
Tonight, I wanted to make things right. I decided to cook Dan’s favorite meal. Lasagna with extra cheese, garlic bread, and that chocolate cake he couldn’t resist. Maybe it would remind him of how things used to be, back when we made time for each other, no matter what.
As I prepped dinner, chopping onions for the sauce, my thoughts wandered back to how easy things had been at the start. We were inseparable. But now, with his constant late nights, it felt like we were living in different worlds.
I kept telling myself it was just a phase, that once work settled down, he’d come back to me. But how long could I wait for that?
The smell of garlic filled the kitchen as I placed the lasagna in the oven. I wiped my hands on a dish towel and glanced at my phone—only 10% battery left.
“Great,” I muttered. I had left my charger at Mom’s last night when I stopped by after work. I was waiting on an important call from a client, and the last thing I needed was for my phone to die.
I debated what to do. Dinner was already in the oven, and I didn’t want to mess up the surprise by leaving, but I needed that charger. It would only take a few minutes to grab it, and I could be back before Dan even noticed..
I glanced at the clock. He wouldn’t be home for at least another hour, maybe more, if the past few nights were anything to go by.
I reached for my phone and called my mom. No answer. I sighed. She must have been out for her evening walk.
I decided to leave quickly, reminding myself that Dan wouldn’t be home anytime soon. He never was these days. Besides, everything was prepped, and the lasagna could bake for a little while longer without me.
I’d be back in no time, and everything would be perfect when he walked in the door. No more excuses, no more late-night work calls, just the two of us—like it used to be.
I grabbed my coat, took one last look at the simmering pot of sauce, and headed out the door. As I drove, I couldn’t help but think about how distant things had become between us.
Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I should’ve been more patient, or maybe I should’ve asked him more directly what was really going on. But every time I brought up his late hours, he brushed it off, saying things would settle down soon.
Still, I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling in my chest. Something wasn’t right. I just wanted to feel connected to him again, to know that we were still in this together.
When I arrived at Mom’s house, the first thing I noticed was how quiet it was. Too quiet. The lights were off, and there was no sign of her. I had called earlier, but she hadn’t answered.
Maybe she was still out on her walk. It wasn’t unusual for her to be gone in the evenings, but something about the stillness of the house made me uneasy. I shook off the feeling and unlocked the door with my spare key.
As soon as I stepped inside, I froze. There, by the entrance, were Dan’s shoes.
My heart skipped a beat, and my stomach twisted. I stared at the shoes, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. Why was Dan here? He was supposed to be at work, wasn’t he? He hadn’t mentioned anything about coming to Mom’s house. In fact, he hadn’t mentioned anything at all.
A cold wave of panic washed over me. What was he doing here? My mind raced with possibilities, and none of them were good. Could it be…? No, I shook my head. I didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but I couldn’t stop my mind from spiraling.
I tried to calm myself, but every step I took down the hallway felt heavier than the last. My heart pounded in my chest, and my breath came in short bursts. The house was too quiet. Then, from behind the closed bedroom door, I heard voices. Muffled, but distinct.
Dan’s voice.
And someone else’s.
I crept closer, straining to listen. It was my mom. Why were they talking in her bedroom? My throat tightened. I pressed my ear against the door, trying to make out what they were saying. They were speaking in hushed tones, and I could only catch fragments of the conversation.
“…do you think she’ll like it?” Dan asked. His voice was low, nervous.
“She’ll love it,” my mom replied, her tone warm and reassuring.
I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. What were they talking about? I couldn’t think straight. My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and anger. Were they planning something behind my back? I wanted to burst through the door, confront them, demand an explanation. But I hesitated. What if I was wrong? What if this was all a misunderstanding?
But what if it wasn’t?
I stood there, paralyzed, my hand hovering over the doorknob. The thought of catching Dan in the middle of something terrible made my heart race even faster. I wasn’t ready for whatever was on the other side of that door, but I couldn’t stand there forever.
Taking a deep breath, I turned the knob and pushed the door open.
What I saw stopped me in my tracks.
The room was a chaotic mess of streamers, balloons, and flowers—my favorite flowers. A large banner lay on the bed, half-finished, with big bold letters that read “Happy Anniversary.” There were wrapped presents in the corner, and my mom was holding up a beautiful dress—one I had admired weeks ago but never bought.
