When Nicole started receiving mysterious notifications from the digital bathroom scale her husband brought home, she brushed it off as a glitch. But as the same numbers appeared week after week, her suspicions grew: Was Justin hiding something — or someone? What she uncovered SHOOK HER TO HER CORE.
What would you do if strange notifications started popping up on your phone? Like, ones you couldn’t explain? Because that’s exactly what happened to me, and let me tell you — it led to one hell of a discovery.
It started with a bathroom scale — a digital one. My husband, Justin, brought it home one random Saturday. “Let’s stay healthy together,” he said with this casual smile like it was no big deal. I wasn’t thrilled, but I played along. We stepped on it to “test” it out. Mine read 134.4 lbs, and his weight was 189.5 lbs.
A woman measuring her weight on a weighing scale | Source: Freepik
“Wow, I didn’t realize I was pushing 190,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck.
I noticed his hand slightly trembling as he stepped off. “Justin? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just… just surprised, that’s all.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I used to be so fit in college.”
“We all change with time,” I said, touching his arm. He flinched away so subtly that I almost missed it.
I thought that might’ve been the end — just another gadget to collect dust in the bathroom. However, weeks later, these weird notifications started popping up on my phone. I’d linked the scale to an app when we first set it up, and one day, while sitting at work, I got a message:
“Unidentified user: weight 152.1 lbs.”
A shocked woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney
I thought maybe Justin had stepped on the scale. But he weighed 189.5 pounds. Then it happened again. And again. I got these notifications three times a week. Same weight. Same time. Something didn’t add up.
At dinner one night, I asked him casually, “Hey, have you been using the scale while I’m at work?”
He didn’t even look up from his plate. “Nope. It’s probably the kids playing with it.”
“Three times a week at the exact same time?” I pressed, raising an eyebrow.
“Geez, Nicole!” His fork clattered against the plate. “Why are you interrogating me about a damn scale?”
An annoyed man | Source: Midjourney
“I’m not interrogating you. I’m just asking a simple question. And the numbers are, I don’t know… weird. You weigh 189.5 pounds. But the notification said 152.1. Am I missing something?”
He shrugged, clearly annoyed. “Maybe they’re holding the dog when they weigh themselves. I don’t know, Nicole. It’s just a scale. Why are you so obsessed with this?”
That was the first red flag. Something about the way he said it — so quick and dismissive — didn’t sit right with me. But I didn’t want to start a fight over a stupid scale, so I let it go for a while.
But the notifications didn’t stop.
A doubtful woman | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, the weight was random — 189.5 lbs (Justin’s weight), 35.3 lbs, or even 24.2 lbs. But that damn 152.1 lbs kept popping up like a ghost that refused to leave. This happened three times a week, like clockwork.
One night, I couldn’t sleep. The numbers kept dancing in my head.
“Justin?” I whispered in the darkness.
“Mmph?” he mumbled.
“Are you happy? With us, I mean?”
He rolled over, suddenly alert. “Where is this coming from?”
A frustrated man in his bedroom | Source: Midjourney
“I don’t know. You just seem… distant lately. Like you’re keeping something from me.”
“Nicole,” he sighed heavily, “it’s 2 a.m. Can we not do this now?”
“When should we do it then?” I demanded, sitting up. “Because every time I try to talk to you, you shut me down!”
“How annoying can this get?!” He threw off the covers and stormed out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
An anxious woman | Source: Midjourney
One evening, while Justin was at the grocery store, I decided to take the scale to customer service, convinced it was broken. But when I explained the issue, the employee ran a diagnostic test and handed it back with a shrug.
“It’s working perfectly,” he said. “Every weight logged is based on someone actually using it.”
I felt my stomach knot. Someone was ACTUALLY using it?
When I got home, I confronted Justin again. “The scale isn’t broken,” I told him. “So who keeps stepping on it? It’s clearly someone who weighs 152.1 pounds. And it’s none of us here. Not you. Not me. Not the kids. And don’t you dare tell me it’s our dog.”
He sighed, his jaw tightening. “Nicole, it’s the kids. I don’t know what else to tell you.”
A furious woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
“You’re sure about that?” I asked, narrowing my eyes. “Because I’ve been watching them. They’re never home at that time.”
“Are you spying on our children now?” he exploded. “What’s next? Hidden cameras?”
“Maybe I should install some!” I shot back, tears burning in my eyes. “Since you won’t give me a straight answer!”
“Nicole, drop it!” he snapped, storming upstairs to our room. “It’s not a big deal. You’re acting like this is some kind of conspiracy.”
That was red flag number two. Then came the day everything changed.
I was on a work trip, trying to focus on a meeting, when my phone buzzed with another notification: “Unidentified user: weight 152.1 lbs.”
I happened to be on the phone with my eldest son at the time. “Hey,” I asked, keeping my voice light. “Who’s messing with the scale right now?”
A cellphone on a table | Source: Pexels
“What scale?” he asked, sounding confused.
“The one in the bathroom,” I said. “Who’s using it?”
“Mom, no one’s home except Dad,” he said. “We’re all at school. Are you okay? You sound weird.”
My heart started racing. “I’m fine, sweetie. Just… checking something.”
“Mom,” he hesitated, “is everything okay with you and Dad? We’ve noticed you guys fighting more.”
“Everything’s fine,” I lied, my voice cracking. “Just adult stuff. Don’t worry about it. Okay. Thanks, sweetie. Love you.”
After I hung up, the realization hit me like a brick: Someone else was in my house. With Justin. But who?
My brain immediately went to the worst place. WAS IT HIS MISTRESS?
A suspicious woman lost in deep thought | Source: Midjourney
I tried to call Justin, but when he picked up, his response was the same as always: “It’s the kids, Nicole. Stop overthinking it.”
“Stop lying to me!” I screamed into the phone, my hands shaking. “I just talked to them — they’re at school!”
There was a long pause. “I have to go,” he said quietly. “We’ll talk about this later.”
“Justin, don’t you dare hang up —” The line went dead.
But now, I couldn’t ignore it. Someone was sneaking into my house, using the scale, and Justin was covering it up. I needed to figure out who.
The next night, after I got home, I sat down and combed through every notification on the app. That’s when I noticed the pattern: Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Always at 1:50 p.m.
The next day was Thursday. And I knew exactly what I had to do.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I left work early, parked my car down the street, and waited. My heart pounded as the clock ticked closer to 1:50 p.m.
“Please let me be wrong,” I whispered, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “Please, please let me be wrong.”
At exactly 1:50 p.m., I got the message. And at 1:53 p.m., I saw someone walking out of my house.
From behind, they looked like a woman — lean, with a long ponytail swinging back and forth. But then they turned, and I FROZE. It wasn’t a woman. It was a MAN.
My mind raced with possibilities, each worse than the last. Was Justin living some kind of double life?
A man with a long ponytail closing a door | Source: Midjourney
Furious, I jumped out of the car and marched toward him. “HEY!” I shouted. “WHO ARE YOU, AND WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?!”
He turned, startled. “Oh, uh… you must be Nicole. Justin’s wife.”
My stomach twisted. “What? Who are you? And why do you have keys to my house?”
He raised his hands like I was about to arrest him. “I guess Justin didn’t tell you about us,” he said sheepishly. “Please don’t judge him! He was too embarrassed to talk about it.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped. “What US?!”
A stunned woman | Source: Midjourney
“I’m Derek,” he said quickly. “Justin’s old college friend. He called me a couple of weeks ago. He’s been worried about his weight and getting out of shape. I’m a personal trainer and sports masseur.”
My head spun. “You’re… his TRAINER?”
“Yeah, I —” Derek started, but I cut him off.
“No, stop. Just stop.” I pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to make sense of it all. “You expect me to believe that my husband, who’s been acting like he’s having an affair, gave you keys to our house for… FITNESS TRAINING?”
Derek nodded, looking genuinely apologetic. “Justin didn’t want you to know because he was embarrassed about gaining weight. And the keys… look, after each session, I give him a massage to help with muscle recovery. He has to lie still for about ten to 30 minutes afterward, so he asked me to lock up when I leave. That’s why he gave me the spare keys. I’m really sorry for the confusion.”
A man smiling | Source: Midjourney
He hesitated before adding, “I know how this looks, but Justin’s been going through a lot. When he lost his job —”
I stared at him, completely dumbfounded. All the sneaking around, all the gaslighting… over personal training? My husband had been fired six months ago and must’ve felt so uneasy about himself. And I didn’t even notice how he’d been depressed and how he’d gained weight.
So that’s why he bought the digital scale. I felt guilty for not noticing how much he’d been struggling, but at the same time, I was upset that he’d kept something so big from me.
A guilty woman | Source: Midjourney
When I walked into the house ten minutes later, Justin acted completely normal, like nothing had happened. “Hey,” he said casually, slipping his phone into his pocket. “You’re back?! I was just about to jump in the shower.”
I didn’t say a word, just nodded and watched him walk upstairs. My thoughts were racing, but I waited. When he came back downstairs after his shower, I was sitting on the couch, arms crossed, waiting for him.
“So,” I began, arms crossed, “how long have you been hiding Derek from me?”
His face turned pale. “You… met Derek?”
A man gaping in shock | Source: Midjourney
“Yeah, Justin. I met Derek. The guy with a ponytail who’s been sneaking into our house three times a week. Care to explain?”
“Nicole, I can explain everything —”
“Can you?” I interrupted, my voice shaking. “Because Derek already did. About the training sessions.”
The color drained from his face as he sighed, collapsing onto the couch. “I didn’t want you to know,” he admitted. “I’ve been feeling terrible since I lost my job. I gained weight, and I just… I didn’t want you to laugh at me.”
“Laugh at you? Justin, I thought you were CHEATING on me! You lied, gave someone keys to our house, and made me feel like I was crazy!”
“I know,” he said quietly, his head in his hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to go this far.”
A man looking guilty | Source: Midjourney
“Do you have any idea what you put me through?” I choked out. “I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I kept imagining the worst possible scenarios!”
“I was ashamed,” he sobbed. “I failed you. Failed our family. I thought if I could just get back in shape, find a new job… maybe I could be worthy of you again.”
I stared at him, my anger softening just a little. “Justin, I’m your wife. You don’t have to hide things from me. But you sure as hell don’t get to gaslight me either.”
The next day, I decided to convey an unforgettable message to Justin.
A frustrated woman | Source: Midjourney
The house was packed with friends and family when he got home from his evening walk. Balloons shaped like dumbbells hung from the ceiling, and a giant “Justin’s Fitness Journey” banner stretched across the living room along with his “before and after” photos.
“What… what is this?” he stammered, looking around in horror.
“A party!” I said brightly. “To celebrate your hard work. Since you went to such great lengths to hide it, I thought it deserved some extra attention.”
His face turned red as everyone clapped and cheered.
“Nicole,” he whispered, pulling me aside, “I don’t deserve this. After everything I put you through…”
“You’re right,” I said firmly. “You don’t deserve it. But you know what you do deserve? Support. Love. Understanding. All the things you were too afraid to ask for.”
A man smiling with relief | Source: Midjourney
“I promise,” he said, his voice cracking, “no more secrets. No more lies.”
“Good,” I smiled, squeezing his hand. “Because I already changed the locks.”
As the party continued, I leaned over and whispered, “Next time, just tell me the truth. It’s a lot easier than this.”
He nodded, squeezing my hand back. “Next time,” he promised, “we face everything together.”
A couple holding hands | Source: Unsplash
My Husband Refused to Take Photos of Me on Our Vacation — His Reason Shocked Me, but My Revenge Left Him in Tears
Hannah here, hello to all of you. I feel compelled to tell this experience even if it is tough to do so. I am 38 years old, the mother of two wonderful children, ages five and seven, and I have been married to my husband, Luke, for almost ten years. Like any couple, we have faced our fair share of difficulties. But more than anything else we’ve experienced, something that occurred on our most recent trip to Mexico truly startled me.
Envision the following: we are in Mexico, surrounded by breathtaking beaches and exquisite weather. This excursion had me giddy with anticipation. Admittedly, I had meticulously prepared everything since, well, I rarely get a break as a mom.
Our goal for this time together was to rekindle our relationship, unwind, and simply enjoy each other’s company. But Luke was acting strangely from the beginning. He would always say no when I asked him to take a picture with me or of me.
He might say, “I’m not in the mood,” or, “Can we do it later?” I didn’t give it much thought at first. Perhaps he was simply fatigued from the journey? However, it continued to occur.
I was wearing a new outfit that I had purchased especially for the trip, and we were on this gorgeous beach. It’s not often that I feel good about myself, especially with two kids and everything. “Could you take a picture of me with the sunset?” I requested Luke.
“Not now, Hannah,” he muttered, with a sigh.
I scowled, a little offended. “Why not? It will just require a moment.
He yelled, “I said I’m not in the mood,” and turned to walk away.
That hurt. We’re on vacation, what gives him the excuse that he can’t stop and take a picture? I was perplexed and humiliated.
I saw that he was extra careful with his phone the whole trip. Every time I passed, he would conceal the screen and even carry it into the restroom. I tried to ignore the feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right.
Luke was taking a shower one afternoon when I noticed his phone on the bed. The moment I picked it up, my heart raced. I had to know even though I know it’s immoral to violate someone’s privacy. I browsed his recent messages on his phone and unlocked it immediately.
A group chat with his friends was there. And my blood ran cold at what I read. “Imagine, guys, at her weight, she still wants me to take pictures of her,” he had written. In what part of the picture would she possibly fit? She has changed significantly since having birth.
My eyes filled with tears, and I felt as though I was gasping for air. Behind my back, this man—the father of my children and the man I loved—was saying such harsh things. I believed we were a couple and that he accepted me for who I am, but instead he was making fun of me in front of his pals.
I sat there in shock, putting his phone back. How was he able to? I was heartbroken and deceived. Even though our marriage was far from ideal, I never would have guessed he had such low regard for me. I cried in private so the kids wouldn’t hear.
My tears eventually stopped flowing, and I started to feel angry instead. I would not allow him to escape punishment for this. I had to take action to demonstrate to him the repercussions of his statements. That’s when it dawned on me.
I pulled out my phone and looked through the pictures I had shot on the journey. Choosing my favorites, I shared them on Facebook with the comment, “Searching for a new travel companion.” Is my appearance so unappealing that even my spouse is reluctant to have me photographed?
The post started receiving likes and comments almost instantly. Several of my acquaintances and friends also sent encouraging remarks. They expressed their dismay at Luke’s actions and complimented my pictures, calling me gorgeous. I did not elaborate on the details of his remarks, but the meaning was evident.
Luke realized my mood had changed as he got out of the shower. “Is everything alright?” he inquired, perhaps detecting the anxiety.
“It’s just fine,” I answered, not taking my eyes off my phone. I was unable to look him in the eye since I was still so hurt and angry.
I was still in awe over Luke’s betrayal the following day. The things he had spoken about me stayed with me. However, something occurred that caused this already complex scenario to get much more difficult.
I had learned just before our vacation that my uncle—whom I had never met—had passed away and bequeathed a sizeable estate to me.
I thought it would be a happy surprise to tell Luke this news, so I had planned to do so during our trip. However, after learning the truth about his true feelings for me, I chose to keep it to myself.
Luke’s mother, who had learned about the inheritance, somehow passed the message to him that morning. I had just finished packing our things and was about to call the trip when Luke entered the room with a bouquet of flowers.
I had noticed his embarrassed expression on a few other occasions when he realized he had made a mistake.
He began, “Hannah, I’m so sorry for everything,” and held the flowers out. I accepted them silently, waiting to see what more he had to say.
“I know I’ve been a jerk,” he went on. That was not the right thing for me to say. However, my dear, you can hire a trainer and drop some weight with your newfound wealth.
I was astounded by what I heard. Did he really think that an apology and a recommendation that I use my inheritance to make myself different for him would be enough? Racked with fury, I shot out, “Maybe I will, Luke. nevertheless, not so you can stare at me.
His expression was so precious. He thought I would simply forgive him and go on. But I had had enough. This was it—my breaking moment. “Luke, I’m divorcing you,” I stated, maintaining a calm tone despite my internal conflict.
His mouth dropped open as his eyes grew wide. Then he started crying, which surprised me. He pleaded, “Please, Hannah, don’t leave me.” “Now that I don’t have your money, all my plans are ruined. I was going to buy a new SUV to go off-road with my friends.”
I was in disbelief. I realized then how little he thought of me. What my money could buy him was what mattered, not our bond or our family. I fixed a pitying yet determined glance on him.
You seem to cherish my money more than I do. You won’t use my money or subject me to humiliation in order to get your SUV; you will find another way. Luke, good bye.
I left him then, feeling both strangely relieved and saddened at the same time. Though this wasn’t how I had imagined my life to go, I had to take responsibility for my happiness now.
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The remainder of the day was devoted to organizing my return home and initiating the divorce proceedings. My family and friends never stopped being there for me. I was able to reclaim my self-worth and confidence with the support of each message and comment.
I came to the realization that I didn’t require Luke or anybody else to affirm my worth or beauty. I was sufficient in my own right. I made the decision to go on with my life and put my children and myself first.
In the days that followed, I began exercising because I wanted to feel stronger and healthier, not because Luke suggested it. I made more time for friends, picked up new interests, and even thought about returning to school.
I ran into Luke at the mall one day. He half-complimented me, which astonished me. “Hey!” Hannah, I almost didn’t recognize you. You appear different. How are the kids and you doing?
I said, “We’re doing great,” not wishing to carry on the discussion.
“Hannah, I wanted to ask you if…”
Luke, I’m getting late. I have to be somewhere. I apologize, I said, and I turned to go. His normally composed, self-assured face was marred by sorrow and perplexity, as I could see from the corner of my eye.
But since I could finally live my life on my terms and feel confident in my own skin, that stopped bothering me. Instead of lamenting my failed marriage, I was prepared to go on with courage and self-love.
So, what are your thoughts? Did I respond appropriately, or did I go a bit too far in my response? In my position, what would you have done differently?
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