Six-year-old Ethan had recently lost his mother, leaving a deep void in his heart. In his grief, he started writing letters to her, pouring out his feelings on paper. One day, while wandering the streets, he stumbled upon an old, rusty mailbox at an abandoned house. He decided to slip one of his letters inside, never expecting anyone to see it. To his astonishment, the very next day, he found a mysterious reply waiting for him.
Ethan, a six-year-old little boy with curly brown hair, felt a constant weight on his chest since his mother passed away. His father, Jacob, seemed lost in his world of grief.
Jacob used to be a lively and attentive father, but now he barely noticed Ethan, spending most of his time staring at old photos or working late to avoid the empty house.
“Mom, I miss you so much,” Ethan whispered to his toy car.
He often imagined his mother traveling with him in the little car.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan missed her gentle voice, warm hugs, and reading bedtime stories with her every night. In his loneliness, he began writing letters to her.
“Dear Mom,
Today was another hard day without you. I miss you so much. Dad is really sad too. I don’t think he notices me much anymore. I wish you were here to hug me and tell me everything will be okay.
Love, Ethan”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He poured his heart into those letters and hoped she would hear him.
One day, while wandering around his neighborhood, Ethan stumbled upon an old, abandoned house. The paint was peeling, the windows were boarded up, and the garden was overgrown with weeds.
“Hey, Mom,” Ethan said to his toy car, “look at this old house. It’s kind of spooky but also cool, right?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He walked closer, curiosity driving him.
Ethan saw the rusty mailbox at the front gate. That day, he had brought one of his letters with him, tucked safely in his jeans pocket, intending to read it to his mom in a quiet spot. Ethan just slipped it inside the mailbox, thinking no one would ever see him.
“Mom, I’m leaving this letter here,” he whispered. “It will be our secret.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
He took a step back and looked at the house again.
“Do you think anyone lives here?” he asked his car, imagining his mother’s voice answering. “Probably not, but it’s a good place for my letter.”
Ethan stood there for a moment longer, feeling a bit silly but also comforted by the act.
“Okay, let’s go home now,” he said to the car. “Maybe we’ll come back tomorrow.”
As he walked home, his mind wandered to thoughts of his mother, picturing her reading his letter and smiling.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I hope you like my letters, Mom,” he whispered, clutching the toy car even tighter. “I’ll keep writing them, I promise.”
When he reached his house, his dad was still sitting at the table in the living room. Ethan paused at the doorway, watching his father for a moment.
“Dad,” he said quietly, but Jacob didn’t respond. Sighing, Ethan headed to his room, pulling out another piece of paper to write another letter to his mom.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Dear Mom,” he began, “I found a new place to leave my letters for you. It’s an old, abandoned house, and it feels like a special spot just for us…”
As he wrote, he felt the sadness lifting just a little, finding solace in the connection created, even if it was only in his imagination.
“Goodnight, Mom,” he whispered to the toy car on his bedside table before drifting off to sleep.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
The next day, Ethan felt a strange urge to visit the abandoned house again. He wanted to leave his new letter in that mailbox.
As he approached the gate, he noticed something different. The mailbox was slightly open. Ethan’s heart raced as he looked around.
Inside, he found a folded piece of paper. It was a letter addressed to … him. He unfolded it and began to read.
“Dear Ethan,” it started. “Thank you for sharing your beautiful words. Your letters have touched my heart. Please don’t stop writing. With love, Clara.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan was so absorbed in the letter that he didn’t hear the front door of the house creak open. A woman stepped out quietly.
She was older, with silver hair and kind, but sad eyes. She watched Ethan read her letter, a gentle smile forming on her face.
Suddenly, Ethan felt a presence and looked up, startled. He nearly dropped the letter.
“Oh! I’m sorry!” he exclaimed, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
The woman held up her hand in a calming gesture. “It’s alright, dear,” she said softly. “I’m Clara. I’ve been reading your letter.”
Ethan blinked in surprise. “You…you read them?”
Clara nodded. “Yes, and they’ve brought me a lot of comfort. Your letter reminded me of my own son. I lost my family years ago.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I miss my mom so much,” Ethan said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Clara stepped closer, her eyes filled with empathy.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“I know, Ethan. Grief is a heavy burden to carry. But sharing your feelings, even through letters, can help lighten that load.”
A loud, angry voice interrupted them just then, “Clara!”
A tall, stern-looking man marched towards them. “It’s time you left, Clara,” Mr. Harrow said harshly. “You’ve had enough time to grieve. This house belonged to my brother, and now it’s mine.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara stood her ground, her eyes blazing. “There was no will, Mr. Harrow. My husband died young, along with our son. Your so-called will is a forgery!”
Mr. Harrow sneered, “You have no choice. I’m taking the house. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
As Ethan stepped forward, trying to understand the situation, Mr. Harrow finally noticed him. “And who is this? Why are kids wandering around my property?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan, clutching his letter, stammered, “I…I was just leaving a letter for my mom…”
Mr. Harrow’s eyes narrowed, “Letter? What letter?”
He snatched the letter from Ethan’s hands and started tearing it up. “You’re littering this place with your trash!”
Ethan’s heart broke as he saw pieces of his letters flutter to the grass. He watched helplessly as Mr. Harrow destroyed his heartfelt messages.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Then Clara stepped forward and said, “How could you do that? He’s just a child, grieving his mother.”
But Ethan already run away, his mind racing.
“Why was Mr. Harrow so mean? And why did he want to remove Clara from her house? She seems so nice,” he whispered to his toy car as he ran. “Mom, what should I do?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
He knew he had to do something, but he wasn’t sure what. All he knew was that he couldn’t let Mr. Harrow win. Clara needed help, and maybe, just maybe, his father could provide it.
Breathless, Ethan clutched his toy car tighter, “I won’t let him hurt Clara, Mom. I promise I’ll help her.”
***
Distraught, Ethan burst through the front door, tears streaming down his face.
“Dad! Dad, I need your help!” he shouted, rushing into the kitchen where Jacob was sitting.
Jacob looked up, startled, “Ethan, what’s wrong?”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“It’s Mr. Harrow! He wants to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, Dad. We have to help her!” Ethan pleaded.
Jacob sighed and rubbed his temples, clearly confused.
“Ethan, calm down. I don’t understand. Who is Mr. Harrow? Who is Clara? And what letters are you talking about?”
Ethan continued to cry out, his words slurred, “Clara.. abandoned … letters .. for Mom! Mr. Harrow! Tore them up!”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob didn’t want to deal with the situation and tried to calm Ethan down.
“Ethan, stop shouting. This isn’t our problem. You shouldn’t be getting involved in things that don’t concern you.”
Ethan was still in a panic and didn’t calm down. He continued to cry and plead with his father.
Jacob was frustrated and did not fully understand the situation. He took the torn pieces of the letters from Ethan’s hands. “That’s enough, Ethan. You need to go to your room and think about your behavior.”
Ethan felt utterly helpless, and ran out of the house, slamming the door behind him. His heart pounded as he ran towards the police station, determined to find someone who would listen and help Clara.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
***
When Ethan arrived at the station, which was on the next street, he breathlessly explained everything to the officer at the desk, hoping they would take action.
“Officer, please, you have to help! Mr. Harrow is trying to kick Clara out of her house! He tore up my letters, and he’s being so mean!” Ethan exclaimed, tears streaming down his face.
The officer listened patiently, nodding as Ethan spoke.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
“Calm down, son,” he said gently. “I understand you’re upset, but Mr. Harrow has already informed us about this. He’s claiming the house is rightfully his.”
Ethan’s eyes widened in disbelief. “But Clara lives there! It’s her home!”
The officer sighed and continued, “The problem is, Clara doesn’t have any documents to prove ownership of the house. She mentioned she lost them. Without those papers, there’s not much we can do.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Ethan felt a lump in his throat, “But that’s not fair! She’s lived there for so long! You have to help her!”
The officer shook his head sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Ethan. I know this is hard for you to understand, but without those documents, Mr. Harrow has the legal right to the property. It’s best if you go home now. I’ll walk you back.”
Feeling defeated, Ethan nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice trembling. The officer took Ethan’s hand and guided him out of the station.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
***
When they arrived at his house, a worried Jacob had just returned home.
“Ethan, where have you been?” he demanded. “I’ve been searching for you at all the neighbors’ houses.”
Ethan looked down, “I went to the police, Dad. I thought they could help.”
Jacob sighed deeply and pulled Ethan into a hug, “I’m not mad, Ethan. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Jacob glanced at the letters on the kitchen table, the ones he had found when Ethan ran away. He had read a few of them and realized how much empathy and love Ethan had in his heart and how little attention he had been giving to his son’s feelings and struggles.
After a long moment of silence, Jacob made a decision.
“Alright, Ethan. Let’s go talk to Clara. She can stay with us until we figure this out.”
Ethan’s eyes lit up with hope. “Really, Dad?”
Jacob nodded, a small smile on his face, “Yes, really. Let’s go help her.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Father and son walked back to Clara’s house together, ready to offer her the shelter and support she needed.
Little did they know, Mr. Harrow, hidden in the shadows, was watching them with narrowed eyes, already plotting his next move to reclaim the property. He had no intention of backing down.
***
Clara, Jacob, and Ethan began living together. The three of them quickly formed a close bond.
Every morning, Clara prepared breakfast while humming a cheerful tune. Her delicious cooking and the flowers she planted in the garden brought life back into the house.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
“Ethan, come help me plant these flowers,” Clara called out one sunny afternoon.
Ethan ran over, excited, “What kind are they, Clara?”
“These are marigolds. They’ll add a beautiful splash of color to the garden,” she replied, handing him a small shovel.
As they worked together, Ethan chatted away, pretending to talk to his toy car. “Mom, look at these flowers! Aren’t they pretty?” he whispered, imagining his mother was there with him.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Jacob watched from the kitchen window, a small smile on his face. Clara’s presence had a calming effect on him. He found himself smiling more and even started joining Ethan and Clara for activities.
“Jacob, dinner’s ready!” Clara called out one evening.
Jacob came to the table, the aroma of Clara’s home-cooked meal filling the room. “Smells wonderful, Clara. Thank you.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Ethan chimed in, “Yeah, Clara, you’re the best cook ever!”
Clara laughed, a warm, hearty sound, “Thank you, Ethan. I love cooking for you both.”
After dinner, Clara and Ethan settled on the couch with a book of fairy tales.
“Once upon a time,” Clara began, and Ethan snuggled closer, listening intently. These moments became a cherished part of their daily routine. Ethan’s sadness began to lift, bit by bit, replaced by the warmth of Clara’s love and stories.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
A few months passed quickly. The legal situation with Clara’s house was resolved in her favor. The ownership documents were found in the registry, proving her rightful claim to the house. Mr. Harrow’s will was confirmed to be a forgery, and he received only a verbal warning to stay away from Clara, as she chose not to press charges against him.
Jacob and Ethan went with Clara to her house, carrying a mix of hope and sadness.
“I don’t want you to go, Clara,” Ethan said, his voice trembling.
Jacob placed a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “We can still visit, Ethan.”
When they arrived, they were shocked to see the destruction. Mr. Harrow had demolished half of it with the help of hired workers and a crane.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Pexels
Clara’s eyes filled with tears. “How could he do this?”
Ethan looked up at his father, his eyes pleading, “Dad, we have to do something.”
Jacob’s face hardened,. “We will, Ethan. I promise.” He turned to Clara. “I’m going to personally sue Mr. Harrow for this. He won’t get away with it.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara nodded, wiping her tears. “Thank you, Jacob.”
Jacob looked at Ethan, then back at Clara.
“You’ll stay with us. We’ll all work together to fix up your home. You’ve become a dear person to both of us, Clara.”
Then Ethan gave Clara his toy car. “You’re part of our family now,” he said, offering it as a sign of trust and acceptance. It was the most precious thing he had, symbolizing how much she meant to him and how she had become an important part of their lives.
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
Clara’s eyes softened as she hugged Ethan back. “Thank you, Ethan. Thank you, Jacob. You’ve both given me a second chance at happiness.”
Together, they headed back home, ready to face the challenges ahead. The bond they had formed was strong, and they knew that together, they could overcome anything.
As they walked, Ethan held his toy car close and whispered, “Mom, Clara is staying with us. She makes me happy, and I think you would like her too.”
For illustration purposes only | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: Chloe found her foster daughter, Alicia, covered in oil paint at home. She knew Alicia had been at Orin’s studio. Orin, their neighbor, was an artist in his fifties, and Chloe was in love with him. To stop Alicia from making a big mistake, Chloe was ready to reveal an old family secret. Read the full story here.
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Adormeci com minha esposa, mas acordei na cama da melhor amiga dela – o que encontrei na mesa de cabeceira dela me abalou
Quando acordei no meu aniversário, não esperava acordar ao lado da mulher errada! Tudo parecia confuso naquele dia, e até ganhei um abraço dos filhos da amiga da minha esposa, que me chamaram de pai! Achei que estava ficando louco até mais tarde naquele dia, quando tudo finalmente fez sentido.
Acordei com o som fraco de pássaros cantando, meu rosto aninhado em um travesseiro que cheirava a desconhecido, como lavanda e sândalo. Enquanto eu piscava, a luz do sol entrava por uma janela que eu não reconhecia. Meu coração pulou uma batida quando virei minha cabeça e congelei. Esta não era minha cama. E deitada ao meu lado não estava minha esposa, Erica, mas sua MELHOR AMIGA, Eliza…
Uma mulher dormindo enquanto um homem fica acordado | Fonte: Midjourney
O pânico tomou conta de mim.
“Isso tem que ser um sonho”, sussurrei para mim mesmo, minha voz quase inaudível. Não vou mentir, o pior pensamento também me ocorreu, que eu poderia ter traído minha esposa de alguma forma. Mas como uma coisa dessas pôde acontecer? Eu amo Erica!
Minha mente correu por uma névoa de culpa e confusão. Olhei para o rosto adormecido de Eliza, esperando por algum sinal de que isso era uma confusão, mas nada sobre a situação parecia certo. Meu coração batia forte no peito enquanto eu tentava juntar as peças de como eu tinha chegado ali.
Um homem chocado na cama | Fonte: Midjourney
Naquele momento, Eliza se mexeu, seus olhos se abrindo. Ela sorriu calorosamente quando viu que eu estava acordado, se inclinou e me beijou levemente na testa. “Feliz aniversário, querido!”, ela disse com um suspiro satisfeito.
“Querida?”, repeti, minha voz falhando. Congelei momentaneamente, então sentei-me abruptamente, agarrando os lençóis como se fossem minha única ligação com a realidade! Eu me lembrava que era meu aniversário, mas não conseguia entender por que Eliza me chamaria de “querida!”
Um homem chocado agarrando os lençóis | Fonte: Midjourney
“Eliza, o que está acontecendo?”
Ela riu suavemente. “O que houve? Parece que você viu um fantasma. Vamos, Matt, não seja estranho, começando com suas travessuras de aniversário. Você está ficando mais velho, não é amnésia ou esquecimento. Vou começar a preparar o café da manhã.”
Ela saiu da cama, pegando um robe de seda de uma cadeira próxima. Enquanto ela saía do quarto e descia as escadas, fiquei olhando para o espaço que ela tinha acabado de desocupar. Meu olhar foi para a mesa de cabeceira, e foi quando eu vi: uma foto emoldurada de um casamento. Meu estômago embrulhou. Mas minha noiva não era Erica. Era ELIZA!
Uma foto de casamento emoldurada | Fonte: Midjourney
“Não, não, não”, murmurei, pegando a foto. Minhas mãos tremiam enquanto eu a segurava mais perto! Lá estava eu, sorrindo como um idiota em um smoking, com Eliza em um vestido branco ao MEU lado! Procurei meu telefone, esperando que ele pudesse fornecer algumas respostas.
A tela de bloqueio era a mesma, felizmente, mostrando a mesma foto minha na minha lua de mel em Maui. O alívio tomou conta de mim por uma fração de segundo. Pelo menos esse ainda era meu telefone. Rolei pelos meus contatos e disquei o número de Erica, que eu tinha salvo em “Querida”.
Um homem chateado em uma ligação | Fonte: Midjourney
Enquanto a linha tocava, ouvi um zumbido fraco vindo de baixo. Comecei a entrar em pânico. Então a voz dela atendeu.
“Oi, querida! Você esqueceu alguma coisa? Ou já está com saudades? O que devo fazer para o café da manhã?”
Eu não conseguia nem responder! Minha garganta estava seca quando desliguei abruptamente. Isso era errado, tão errado! Desesperado, verifiquei o número que tinha discado e percebi que não era o da minha esposa, então liguei para ela usando o número memorizado dela.
Um homem chateado em uma ligação telefônica | Fonte: Midjourney
Depois de tocar algumas vezes, Erica finalmente atendeu. “Matt! Feliz aniversário!” ela cantou no telefone.
Senti alívio novamente quando exclamei: “Querida! Oh, graças a Deus é você!”
Então houve silêncio. Um silêncio longo e constrangedor.
“Querido?”, ela finalmente respondeu, rindo. “Matt, você misturou alguma coisa depois de toda a bebedeira que bebeu ontem à noite na sua pré-festa de aniversário? Seu amor provavelmente está fazendo seu café da manhã agora. Você está bem?”
Uma mulher confusa em uma chamada | Fonte: Midjourney
Envergonhada, desliguei novamente, minhas mãos tremendo. Eu senti como se estivesse PERDENDO a cabeça! Determinada a obter algumas respostas, saí cambaleando do quarto, descendo as escadas agarrada ao corrimão para me apoiar, e encontrei duas crianças me esperando: os filhos de Eliza.
Eles correram até mim, me abraçando forte. “Feliz aniversário, pai!”, eles gritaram em uníssono.
“Pai?”, sussurrei, olhando para seus rostos ansiosos. Meus joelhos ameaçaram ceder. Eu não era o pai deles. Eu não podia ser…
Um homem abraçando crianças | Fonte: Midjourney
O cheiro de bacon e café enchia o ar. Eliza estava na cozinha, cantarolando uma música que eu reconheci vagamente. Seus filhos correram e sentaram-se à mesa de jantar, seus rostos se iluminando enquanto olhavam para mim.
Forcei um sorriso e tentei me recompor.
“Obrigada, crianças”, murmurei, minha voz mal saindo firme.
Eliza colocou um prato de panquecas na minha frente, seu rosto brilhando de orgulho. “Sua favorita”, ela disse, beijando minha bochecha.
Uma mulher segurando um prato | Fonte: Midjourney
Sentei-me, olhando para a mesa perfeitamente arrumada. Os presentes estavam empilhados ordenadamente no canto, embrulhados em papel brilhante. Fotos de família cobriam as paredes, cada uma delas mostrando eu, Eliza e as crianças. Em uma, eu estava segurando uma criança pequena nos ombros; em outra, estávamos no Grand Canyon, sorrindo como se essa vida sempre tivesse sido minha.
Eu não conseguia comer. Meu estômago se revirou de desconforto. Depois de resmungar uma desculpa, recuei para o banheiro e tranquei a porta. Joguei água fria no rosto, esperando acordar desse pesadelo.
Um homem chocado espirrando água no rosto | Fonte: Midjourney
Tentei racionalizar tudo o que estava acontecendo, pensando que talvez tivesse batido a cabeça. Mas nenhuma quantidade de raciocínio funcionou. Imaginei que outra pessoa poderia esclarecer as coisas e saber a verdade, então liguei para minha mãe.
“Feliz aniversário, Matt!” ela cumprimentou alegremente.
“Obrigado, mãe”, eu disse, minha voz trêmula. “Mas me diga, qual é o nome da minha esposa?”
Houve uma pausa, seguida de uma risada leve. “Eliza, claro. Por que você está fazendo uma pergunta tão boba?”
Uma mulher confusa em uma chamada | Fonte: Midjourney
Suas palavras me atingiram como uma tonelada de tijolos enquanto eu murmurava um pedido de desculpas e me desculpava da ligação. Eu estava perdendo a cabeça? Tentei estabilizar minha respiração, mas as paredes do banheiro desconhecido pareciam se fechar ao meu redor. Eu tinha que sair dali.
“Isso não é real”, eu disse ao meu reflexo. “Não pode ser.”
Depois de andar de um lado para o outro por vários minutos, decidi que precisava de ar. Saí e senti a brisa fresca da manhã.
Um homem chateado parado do lado de fora | Fonte: Midjourney
O bairro era assustadoramente familiar, mas parecia errado, perfeito demais, como se eu tivesse pisado em um set de filmagem. Cada casa era meticulosamente mantida, os gramados aparados com precisão. Andei de um lado para o outro na entrada da garagem, minhas mãos tremendo enquanto eu agarrava meu telefone.
Quando voltei para casa, Eliza já estava planejando o dia. “Teremos uma festinha de spa hoje à noite aqui em casa”, ela disse. “Só nós e alguns amigos. Vai ser legal e relaxante.”
Uma mulher sentada à mesa do café da manhã | Fonte: Midjourney
Suas palavras mal foram registradas. Eu assenti distraidamente, meus pensamentos correndo. Se isso fosse algum tipo de realidade alternativa, talvez ver Erica me tirasse dela. Mas como eu a encontraria?
Não tive muito tempo para entreter esse pensamento, pois minha “esposa” me mantinha ocupado cuidando das crianças e fazendo outras tarefas estranhas pela casa. Ela parecia estar me observando como um falcão e me mantinha em sua mira.
A resposta para encontrar Erica veio naquela noite na festa. Nossos amigos, felizmente meus amigos de verdade, se reuniram na casa. Tudo sobre a atmosfera parecia familiar, exceto pela maneira como me trataram. Eles riram e brincaram como se essa vida com Eliza fosse a única que eles já conheceram.
Um homem chateado em uma festa | Fonte: Midjourney
E então eu a vi, Erica. MINHA Erica. Ela estava parada com o marido de Eliza, Michael, rindo de alguma piada que ele tinha feito. Eles pareciam… felizes.
Ciúmes se acenderam em mim, quentes e irracionais. Cerrei os punhos, me esforçando para não causar uma cena. Eu queria marchar até Erica, mas meu coração batia forte no peito ao pensar em um confronto confuso.
Um homem chateado em uma festa | Fonte: Midjourney
Mas quando a vi removendo uma migalha da barba dele, algo dentro de mim finalmente estalou, e eu estava pronto para lidar com o constrangimento de fazer uma cena! Eu marchei para frente, determinado a confrontar a verdade, não importa o quão doloroso fosse. Mas quando passei pelo bolo, decorado com as palavras “Feliz Aniversário, Matt!” em glacê brilhante, tudo mudou.
Alguém interceptou meu caminho e me levou até o bolo, que agora estava sendo aceso com velas coloridas. Minha determinação derreteu enquanto eu me inclinava para a esperança de que meu aniversário viria com positividade, fazendo um desejo: voltar para minha família de verdade.
Um homem infeliz apagando velas | Fonte: Midjourney
Apaguei as velas com os olhos fechados e, para minha surpresa, Erica se aproximou, me beijou nos lábios e disse: “Deixa-me adivinhar… você desejou isso, não é?”
E naquele momento, todos ao redor começaram a aplaudir, rir e gritar: “Surpresa!”
Chocado, percebi o que estava acontecendo. Era tudo uma brincadeira.
Convidados felizes | Fonte: Midjourney
Olhei para minha esposa, atordoado, querendo um esclarecimento adequado de que eu não estava ficando louco. “O que… o que é isso?”
“Foi uma brincadeira”, ela confirmou, rindo. “Uma brincadeira maluca e elaborada. Você e Michael brincaram sobre trocar de vida uma vez, lembra? Eliza e eu ouvimos e não conseguimos resistir.”
“Então, nada disso é real? Eu não bati a cabeça e esqueci?”
“Não, tudo foi planejado, desde você ficar super bêbado ontem à noite, até você acabar na cama com Eliza, até os filhos e o marido dela se envolverem, e até sua mãe!” Erica disse com um sorriso.
Uma mulher feliz | Fonte: Midjourney
Alívio e descrença tomaram conta de mim quando a verdade se instalou. Olhei para os rostos sorridentes dos meus amigos e familiares e, pela primeira vez no dia, ri.
“Eu odeio todos vocês”, eu disse, balançando a cabeça. “Mas este… este é um aniversário que eu nunca vou esquecer!”
Um homem sorrindo e abraçando sua esposa | Fonte: Midjourney
Este trabalho é inspirado em eventos e pessoas reais, mas foi ficcionalizado para fins criativos. Nomes, personagens e detalhes foram alterados para proteger a privacidade e melhorar a narrativa. Qualquer semelhança com pessoas reais, vivas ou mortas, ou eventos reais é mera coincidência e não intencional do autor.
O autor e a editora não fazem nenhuma reivindicação quanto à precisão dos eventos ou à representação dos personagens e não são responsáveis por nenhuma interpretação errônea. Esta história é fornecida “como está”, e quaisquer opiniões expressas são as dos personagens e não refletem as opiniões do autor ou da editora.
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