Leighton, after witnessing how her parents celebrated their anniversary, is sure about one thing — when she gets married, she will do just that. But when her anniversary rolls around, her husband skips their romantic dinner and lies about a meeting. Curiosity prevails, and Leighton follows Josh, only to find him at a motel with the first person he ever loved. Is there a hidden truth, or is the story exactly what it looks like?
I grew up in a home where anniversaries were important and had to be celebrated. It was just something that my parents always paid extra attention to.
My mother would bake a cake every year on their anniversary, even if my father had dinner plans for them.
A woman and little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels
“It’s important to celebrate a marriage, Leighton,” my mother would say.
And she would usually be decorating the cake at this point.
“I mean, you’ll understand it one day,” she said. “But married life is difficult, and that’s why you have to celebrate making it another year.”
A little girl decorating a cake | Source: Pexels
Since then, I knew that if I ever got married, wedding anniversaries would be a big deal.
And then I met Josh, who seemed to understand the importance of it — or at least, the sentimentality of it all.
So, the other day was our sixth anniversary, and because it was the middle of the week, there just wasn’t going to be enough time to plan something intimate at home.
A newlywed couple at the beach | Source: Pexels
A dinner out was going to be our best option.
“It’s not a bad idea, Leighton,” Josh said when I told him that we had to settle on that.
“It’s much easier, anyway,” I said, thinking about the fuss of getting home and having to cook an elaborate dinner after a long day at the office.
The weekend before our anniversary, I went shopping and got Josh a new set of ties — my husband was into his tie collection and was always looking to add to it.
A couple at a restaurant | Source: Pexels
Then, on the day, I arranged to pick Josh up from work, excited for our romantic dinner at our favorite restaurant.
I left work a little earlier than usual and parked across the road from Josh’s building, waiting for him to leave work. I sat in the car, reapplying my lipstick and sorting my hair out. I sang along to the radio and waited.
Twenty minutes later, Josh still hadn’t come out. I tried calling him, but he didn’t answer either.
A woman driving a car | Source: Pexels
Eventually, I sent him a text:
Hey, honey! I’m waiting outside — I’m parked across the flower shop.
Not even a minute later, my phone pinged with a text message notification.
Caught up in a meeting, don’t wait for me. I’ll see you at home.
A flower shop exterior | Source: Pexels
My heart sank. I understood the importance of work — especially because Josh loved his job, and he always brought work home, often going through spreadsheets in bed at night.
I was disappointed, I mean, it was our special day. But I knew that these things were sometimes beyond our control. I picked up my phone to reply before driving off.
A woman turning around in the driver’s seat | Source: Pexels
Sure, see you later.
Starting the car, I could only think about sinking my teeth into a sugary donut.
“You can’t keep eating your feelings,” I told myself. “But today calls for it.”
Just then, I saw Josh push open the building door, his briefcase at his side, and his phone in his hand.
A person holding a donut | Source: Pexels
He walked briskly to an unfamiliar car and slid in — not even glancing to see if I was around.
Moments ago, I could imagine eating a donut, now I could only taste confusion and betrayal thick on my tongue.
Of course, I followed him. I needed to know who was driving the car and where they were headed.
I needed to know who my husband would rather spend our anniversary with if not me.
A parked car | Source: Pexels
I followed the car for about fifteen minutes before it started to slow down — we were just outside of town now. There were fewer buildings around, and it was quieter. If anything, the air seemed lighter and fresh.
“What are you up to, Josh?” I asked the silence around me.
A person driving down a lonely road | Source: Pexels
Eventually, the car led me to a decrepit motel on the outskirts of the city. I watched, hidden by the shadows, as my husband got out of the car. Moments later, another man stepped out of the car.
He was also in a suit, holding onto a stack of paperwork. But he walked in another direction — to the motel office, it seemed.
A man in a suit | Source: Pexels
Josh, on the other hand, walked straight up to a room. He knocked once, opened the door, and disappeared into a room.
I couldn’t sit back any longer. My feet moved on their own accord across the street, and there I was, outside the door that was slightly ajar.
A murmur of voices seeped out, spilling onto the pavement.
The exterior of a motel room | Source: Pexels
Pushing the door open, my eyes landed on a scene that knocked the wind out of me.
There was Josh, sitting at a little table, surrounded by paperwork. Directly across from him was a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman, it was Sophia — Josh’s first love.
I couldn’t understand what was happening. It was our anniversary, and Josh was here, in a run-down motel with the first woman he had loved.
It made no sense, but at the same time, a story seemed to be unfolding.
A couple sitting at a table | Source: Pexels
“Happy anniversary,” I said, the words laced with bitterness.
My husband leaped up, his face full of shock and his mouth hanging open.
“Leighton,” he said. “It’s not what it looks like!”
Sophia, her face flushed with surprise, began gathering the papers.
“Then what is it?” I asked. “You skipped dinner for whatever this is.”
My voice broke, teetering on the edge of anger and sorrow.
A shocked man | Source: Pexels
“No, Leighton, listen,” Sophia interjected, her voice calm, trying to soothe the storm.
“What are those papers for?” I asked.
I couldn’t see what they were, but my mind was convinced that they were divorce papers. Why else would my husband be sitting in a motel room with another woman?
A pile of paperwork on a table | Source: Unsplash
“Darling,” Josh said, taking a step toward me. “We’re planning to buy this motel.”
“What?” I asked, genuinely surprised by the turn of events.
“We thought that it would make a perfect business venture,” Sophia said. “This isn’t about me, Leighton. I just have the contacts to help it happen. The man who drove Josh here is my husband. He’s sorting out the final paperwork with the owner, who happens to be his brother-in-law.”
My husband nodded earnestly, adding, “I wanted this to be our new start, something that you and I could build together. To create a legacy for ourselves. This was supposed to be official last week, but there was a delay with the owner.”
A smiling man | Source: Pexels
“We only had this evening to sign everything,” Sophia chirped in.
The room was thick with tension as I processed their words.
“Why didn’t you just tell me that?” my voice softened as my heart rate slowed down.
Sophia looked from Josh to me and back to the pile of paperwork. She helped herself to a piece of candy from the dish in front of her.
A bowl of candy | Source: Unsplash
“I thought keeping it a surprise until everything was set would be… I don’t know, more special?” he said.
He looked down at the dirty carpet beneath our feet.
“So, what now?” I asked, looking at my watch.
“The moment my husband gets back with the signed documents, Josh can sign, and we’ll be done here,” Sophia said, picking up her handbag.
A woman holding her handbag | Source: Pexels
“Have a seat,” Josh said, pulling out a chair for me. “The moment I sign, we can get out of here.”
Sophia excused herself, claiming that she wanted to check out the vending machine because she was starving.
“You really just wanted this to be a surprise?” I asked Josh.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ve been looking into property for a while now. I want it to be our safety net in terms of finances.”
A vending machine | Source: Pexels
We sat together and spoke for a little while longer before Sophia and her husband came in, carrying the stack of paperwork that I had seen him holding earlier.
“Almost done now,” Sophia said, handing Josh a pen.
A little while later, we were in my car, with Josh driving us home.
A person signing a document | Source: Pexels
“I know it’s late, and that we have missed our reservation,” he said. “But let’s get some dinner anyway.”
We went to a diner not too far away from our home.
“No more secrets, Josh,” I said as our food arrived.
“I promise,” he said, reaching for my hand across the table, his eyes earnest.
As we drove home, I realized that although the night had not gone as planned, perhaps it needed to have been that way. With a promise renewed and a future venture to embark on together.
The exterior of a restaurant | Source: Pexels
But as Josh showered that evening, I pulled out the anniversary cake that I had gotten the day before. As it had been my parents’ tradition, I wanted it to become ours.
I surprised Josh with the cake as he was getting into bed.
“This is better than a fancy dinner,” he said.
After seeing the motel, I know that there’s going to be a lot of time and dedication going into it. At least while we try to make it our own.
I have paint swatches and room layouts already planned in my head.
A woman holding a cake | Source: Pexels
What would you have done?
My MIL Tried on My Wedding Dress and Ruined It — She Refused to Pay for It, So I Used My Secret Weapon
АМАМI didn’t think much of it when my future MIL kept pestering me about my wedding dress until I came home to find my $3,000 gown missing! The truth? She’d tried it on, ruined it, and refused to pay. Furious and desperate, I confronted her — armed with a secret weapon that changed everything.
I should have known something was wrong when Janet, my future mother-in-law, kept asking about my wedding dress.
A woman frowning while checking her phone messages | Source: Midjourney
For weeks, she’d text me almost daily: “Have you found the dress yet?” or “Make sure you pick something nice, dear. You don’t want to look like a doily.”
But despite her constant nagging, there was always some excuse whenever I invited her to come dress shopping with me.
“Sorry, I have a migraine,” she’d say. Or, “Oh, I’m just too busy this weekend.”
My mom noticed it too.
A woman having a conversation with her mother | Source: Midjourney
“Strange how invested she is for someone who won’t even come look,” she said one afternoon as we browsed through our third bridal boutique of the day.
I shrugged it off, trying to focus on the excitement of finding my perfect dress.
“I don’t get it either. But hey, at least I don’t have to deal with her criticizing my choices, right?”
I turned to look at a different display right near the back of the shop. That’s when I saw it: an ivory A-line gown with delicate lace detailing and a sweetheart neckline.
A wedding dress on display in a store | Source: Midjourney
The moment I tried it on, I knew. The way it hugged my curves before flowing out gracefully, the subtle sparkle of the beading catching the light — it was everything I’d dreamed of.
“Oh, honey,” my mom whispered, tears in her eyes. “This is the one.”
The price tag read $3,000. Which was more than I’d planned to spend, but sometimes perfection comes at a cost.
As I stood there in the fitting room, my mom snapping pictures from every angle, I felt like a real bride. Everything was falling into place.
A woman trying on a wedding dress in a store | Source: Midjourney
I texted Janet the minute I got home to tell her I’d found the perfect dress. She replied within minutes, demanding I bring the dress so she could see it.
I texted her back: “Sorry, Janet, but I’m going to keep it right here until the big day. I’ll send you the pictures my mom took.”
“No. I don’t want to see pictures!” she texted back immediately. “Bring the dress!”
A woman reading a message on her phone | Source: Midjourney
I firmly refused again, and again. She was very insistent but eventually seemed to realize I wasn’t going to risk damaging my precious and very expensive gown by driving it across town just for her to look at.
Two weeks later, I spent the day at my mom’s house, going over wedding details and working on DIY centerpieces. When I got home that evening, something felt off.
A woman in an apartment looking puzzled | Source: Midjourney
The apartment was too quiet, and Mark’s shoes weren’t by the door where he usually kicked them off.
“Mark?” I called out, dropping my keys on the kitchen counter. No answer.
I headed to our bedroom to change clothes, and that’s when panic hit me like a bucket of ice water.
The garment bag containing my wedding dress wasn’t hanging on the back of the closet door where I’d left it. I immediately guessed what had happened.
A closet in a bedroom | Source: Pexels
My hands shook with anger as I dialed Mark’s number.
“Hey, babe,” he answered, his voice oddly hesitant.
“You took my dress to your mom’s place, didn’t you?” The words came out sharp and scared.
“She just wanted to see it, and you weren’t home, so…”
I didn’t let him finish. “Bring it back. Right now!”
When Mark walked through the door thirty minutes later, I knew something was wrong.
A guilty-looking man | Source: Midjourney
He smiled like everything was normal but the guilt in his eyes was obvious. My heart was in my throat as I took the garment bag and unzipped it, fearing the worst.
The dress inside was stretched out of shape, the delicate lace torn in places. The zipper hung crooked, broken teeth glinting mockingly in the overhead light.
“What did you do?” My voice came out as a whisper.
A shocked and upset woman in an apartment | Source: Midjourney
“What do you mean?” Mark frowned at me like he had no idea what I was talking about.
“This!” I gestured to the broken zip, the ruined lace, the stretched fabric. Tears filled my eyes as the full extent of the damage became clear. “My wedding dress is ruined!”
“It’s… not that bad. I really don’t know how that happened, honey. Maybe… it was badly made and tore when Mom opened the garment bag?”
A man feigning innocence | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped. “The only way this could’ve happened is if… oh my God! She tried on my wedding dress, didn’t she?”
“Uh…”
“How could you, Mark?” I pulled out my phone and dialed Janet’s number. “She isn’t the same size as me and even if she was, this is MY WEDDING GOWN! Not some sundress from Target.”
Janet answered the phone, and I put her on speaker.
A woman using her cell phone | Source: Pexels
“You ruined my wedding dress! The lace is torn, the zip is ruined, the fabric is stretched out… you and Mark owe me $3000 dollars to replace it.”
Mark’s jaw dropped. “You can’t be serious.”
And Janet’s reply? She laughed, actually laughed!
“Don’t be so dramatic! I’ll replace the zipper; I know exactly how to do it, and it will be as good as new.”
A woman staring at her phone in disbelief | Source: Midjourney
“No, it won’t,” I replied, my voice cracking. “Repairing the zip won’t fix the rest of the damage. I have to replace the dress, Janet. You know you shouldn’t have tried it on, and now you need to step up and fix this.”
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing,” Janet said sharply.
I looked at Mark, waiting for him to defend me. Instead, he stared at the floor.
My heart broke. I couldn’t bear to deal with him or his awful mother anymore at that moment. I hung up the call, went to the bedroom, and sobbed my eyes out while clutching my ruined dress.
A sad woman clutching a wedding dress | Source: Midjourney
Two days later, Mark’s sister Rachel showed up at my door. Her expression was grim.
“I was there,” she said without preamble. “When Mom tried on your dress. I tried to stop her, but you know how she is. I’m so sorry.”
I invited her in, and she pulled out her phone. “When I realized I couldn’t stop her, I realized there was something else I could do to help you. Here — this will make my mom pay for everything.”
She held out her phone. What I saw on the screen made me sick.
A young woman holding up her cell phone | Source: Midjourney
There was Janet, squeezed into my dress, laughing as she posed in front of her mirror. The fabric strained across her body, the zipper clearly struggling to close.
“She needs to pay for what she did,” Rachel said. “And these pictures are the key.”
I listened closely as Rachel outlined exactly how I could use the pictures to teach Janet a lesson.
A woman listening closely to a young woman | Source: Midjourney
Armed with Rachel’s photos, I confronted Janet again and told her I’d share the photos if she didn’t pay the $3000 she owed me for ruining my dress.
“You wouldn’t dare share those,” she said, examining her manicure. “Think about what it would do to the family.”
I looked at her perfect makeup, her expensive clothes, her carefully cultivated image of the doting mother-in-law. “Try me.”
A confident woman standing with her hands on her hips | Source: Midjourney
That night, I created the Facebook post with shaking hands.
I uploaded Rachel’s photos along with pictures of my ruined dress. I wrote about how my future mother-in-law had tried on my wedding dress without permission and destroyed it. How she’d refused to take responsibility or replace it.
“A wedding dress represents so much more than just a piece of clothing,” I wrote. “It represents dreams, hopes, and trust. All of which have been destroyed along with my dress.”
An emotional woman typing on her phone | Source: Midjourney
The next morning, Janet burst into our apartment without knocking, her face red with fury.
“Take it down!” she screamed, waving her phone in my face. “Do you have any idea what people are saying about me? I’m being humiliated! My friends, my church group, everyone’s seen it!”
“You humiliated yourself when you decided to try on my dress without permission.”
“Mark!” she turned to her son. “Tell her to take it down!”
A furious woman yelling and pointing her finger | Source: Midjourney
Mark looked between us, his face pale. “Mom, maybe if you just offered to replace the dress —”
“Replace it? After what she’s done?” Janet’s voice reached a pitch that probably only dogs could hear. “Never!”
I looked at Mark, really looked at him. At the way he shrunk from conflict, the way he’d let his mother walk all over both of us, the way he’d betrayed my trust without a second thought.
“You’re right, Janet,” I said quietly. “The dress doesn’t need to be replaced.”
Close up of a heartbroken woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
I slipped my engagement ring off my finger and placed it on the coffee table. “Because there won’t be a wedding. I deserve better than a man who won’t stand up for me, and better than a mother-in-law who has no respect for boundaries.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Janet’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. Mark started to speak, but I walked to the door and held it open.
“Please leave. Both of you.”
A woman pointing her finger while speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
As I watched them go, I felt lighter than I had in months.
Here’s another story: I never believed in fortune tellers, but when my best friend insisted I visit Madame Selene, I reluctantly agreed. Then came the bombshell: my husband is hiding a betrayal. Doubts creep in, but my world spun when I overheard Selene gloating about scamming me. Who was behind this, and why?
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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