Social media can sneak into your life and become part of your relationships, whether you want it to or not. Most of the time, it feels harmless—just cute pictures and updates for friends and family. But sometimes, things can take an unexpected turn.
Mark and I had been together for almost a year. He was honestly the perfect boyfriend—sweet, caring, and always making me laugh, whether we were hiking or just lounging on the couch. I felt so lucky to have him, so I decided it was time to make things official on Facebook.
We were on a hiking trail one afternoon when we took a cute picture together, smiling with the sun shining behind us. “Just me and my favorite person on our latest adventure!” I captioned it, adding a couple of heart emojis. I felt excited to share a bit of our happiness with everyone.
Then, ten minutes later, I received a notification that made my stomach drop. It wasn’t a like or a comment. It was a message that read: “YOU MUST RUN FROM HIM. NOW.”
I stared at my phone, my heart racing. Who would send something like that? I clicked on the profile, hoping to find some clue, but there was nothing—no info, no pictures, just a blank page. The message itself was scary enough, but this? It felt like a ghost had sent it.
I glanced at Mark, who was busy tossing our backpacks into the car, completely unaware of the turmoil inside me. Should I tell him?
My mind raced, and before I could fully process it, another message popped up: “Don’t tell Mark anything. Listen carefully. Smile, don’t be aggressive with him. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You got it?”
I felt the blood drain from my face. What was going on? Who was sending these messages? And why were they so sure I was in danger? I couldn’t help but glance at Mark, who was still happily loading our things, completely oblivious to the storm brewing in my head.
I tried to brush it off, thinking maybe I was just overreacting. But the way he watched me sent chills down my spine. It felt like he was looking right through me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being judged or analyzed.
One evening, I decided to confront him. “Mark, is something bothering you? You’ve been acting a bit different lately.”
He looked surprised, shaking his head. “No, I’m fine. Just deep in thought, I guess.”
I wanted to believe him, but the tension lingered. The messages still haunted me, and I couldn’t help but wonder if I was missing something important. I felt stuck between trusting Mark and the nagging fear from that mysterious message.
I felt a wave of panic wash over me. The idea of meeting a stranger, especially one who seemed to know things about Mark, made my stomach churn. But the promise of “evidence” was tempting. I had to find out more.
After a long debate in my head, I decided to go. I texted Mark, saying I had a last-minute meeting with a friend. He seemed a bit disappointed but accepted my excuse without questioning it further.
The next day, I arrived at Bayou Bakery, my heart racing. I scanned the room for anyone suspicious but only saw the usual patrons enjoying their coffee. Then, a figure in a hoodie caught my eye. They waved me over, and I hesitated before approaching.
“You’re here,” they said, their voice low. “I have something you need to see.”
“I’m meeting my mom for lunch tomorrow,” I said casually over breakfast, trying not to let my voice tremble.
Mark didn’t look up from his coffee right away. “Really? You didn’t mention it before.”
“Oh, yeah,” I replied quickly, my heart racing. “She called last night. Last minute thing.”
Mark finally met my eyes, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he said slowly.
I tried to focus on my coffee, but all I could feel was the weight of his gaze as if he was trying to see straight through me.
I felt a mix of relief and dread. “What do you mean, weird?”
He leaned in closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve been distant lately, and I could feel something was off. Then I saw the messages. I thought they were a prank or something, but now… I’m not so sure.”
My heart raced. “You saw the messages?”
He nodded again, looking worried. “I didn’t mean to snoop, but I noticed your phone lighting up at weird times. I read a couple of them, and they sounded serious. I just wanted to know if you were okay.”
I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “I don’t know if I’m okay. Someone is telling me to run from you. They say there’s something I should be worried about.”
His expression shifted to one of concern. “What? Who is it?”
I glanced around the bakery, feeling the weight of the situation. “I don’t know. Just an anonymous account. They said to meet them here to see some evidence.”
He frowned, clearly conflicted. “We need to figure this out together. You shouldn’t be meeting anyone alone.”
I nodded, appreciating his concern, but uncertainty still hung in the air. “But what if it’s true? What if there’s something I don’t know about you?”
He reached out, taking my hand. “You need to trust me. Let’s find out what this is really about.”
Just then, I noticed the hooded figure watching us from across the room, their eyes fixed on us. My heart sank as I realized the situation was more complicated than I had ever imagined.
I blinked in surprise. “Andrew? What are you doing here?”
He chuckled, completely oblivious to the tension in the air. “Just thought I’d join you guys! I heard about the big mystery and wanted in on the action.”
Mark and I exchanged glances, both clearly unsettled. “What mystery?” Mark asked, his tone a mix of confusion and annoyance.
Andrew waved it off with a grin. “Oh, you know, the drama with the messages. Everyone’s talking about it. Figured I’d come see what the fuss was all about.”
I felt my stomach drop. “Everyone? What do you mean?”
He leaned back, clearly enjoying himself. “I mean, you two have been the topic of conversation. People are worried about you. They think something’s going on.”
Mark’s expression hardened. “And why are people talking about us? Who told you?”
Andrew shrugged, still smiling. “Just some friends. You know how it goes. Gossip spreads like wildfire.”
My mind raced. If Andrew knew, then so did others. What was happening? “Do you know who sent the messages?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
“No idea,” Andrew replied, still casual. “But I think it’s just some prank. People love stirring the pot.”
Mark’s eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke, Andrew. We’ve been getting messages that are seriously concerning.”
Suddenly, Andrew’s demeanor shifted. “Wait, you’re serious? You both got messages?”
“Yes,” I said, feeling frustrated. “And they’re not just funny texts. They’re telling us to run from each other!”
Andrew leaned in closer, his expression turning serious. “Okay, that’s not cool. We need to figure this out, then.”
I could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. With Andrew now in the loop, I hoped we could get to the bottom of this madness together. But deep down, I still felt a chill creeping up my spine. Who was behind all of this, and what did they really want?
Andrew raised his hands, trying to calm us down. “Alright, maybe I pushed it a bit. But listen, Ellie and Mark, instead of talking to each other, you both went off following some anonymous messages. What does that say about your relationship?”
I looked at Mark, and he seemed just as angry as I was. But I could see something else in his eyes—a hint of uncomfortable truth. Andrew had a point, even if it stung to hear it.
We had let outside voices influence us instead of trusting each other. It felt like a crack was forming in our relationship, and I didn’t like it at all.
Mark finally spoke, his voice low. “He’s right. We should have talked first.”
I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words. “I guess we let fear take over instead of communicating.”
Andrew watched us, his expression softening. “Look, I didn’t mean to make it worse. I just want you both to be happy. You care about each other, right?”
“Of course we do,” Mark said firmly, but I could see the doubt lingering in his eyes.
We all sat in silence for a moment, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. I realized we needed to focus on rebuilding trust. “How do we fix this?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
Andrew shrugged. “Start by being honest with each other. Don’t let other people or random messages dictate your feelings.”
Mark took a deep breath. “Yeah, we need to talk about everything, including these weird messages.”
I agreed, feeling a sense of determination. It was time to confront the truth together and stop letting outside forces interfere. We had to trust each other again, no matter how hard it might be.
When Mark and I left the bakery, we didn’t say much at first. The shock of everything that happened was still settling in, and I felt the weight of the situation.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Do you think Andrew is right?”
Mark sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I hate to say it, but maybe. We didn’t talk to each other. We let those anonymous messages get to us.”
We both understood that trust is something we can’t take for granted. Even though Andrew’s prank was cruel, it taught us an important lesson. The only way to keep our relationship strong was to face our fears and doubts together.
I looked at Mark, feeling a mix of determination and relief. “We need to be open with each other from now on.”
“Absolutely,” he agreed. “No more letting outside messages influence us. We need to trust our instincts and each other.”
As we walked, I felt a sense of hope. We were ready to rebuild our connection and focus on what really mattered. Together, we could overcome anything.
My Therapy Client Is Angry His Wife Won’t Let Him Take Care of Their Son and I Was Shocked When I Found out Why — Story of the Day
As a psychologist, Kate often navigates the turbulent waters of troubled relationships. But when Colin’s case takes an unexpected twist, Kate finds herself breaking protocol and stepping into uncharted territory. What secrets lie behind Colin’s fractured family, and can Kate uncover the truth?
I was waiting for a new client, feeling a familiar curiosity and readiness. The man had mentioned over the phone that he was having some problems with his wife. As a psychologist, this was something I often encountered, so it was nothing unusual.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I glanced around my office, making sure everything was in place. The door opened, and I saw Colin, my new client. He was tall and looked a bit nervous.
“May I?” Colin asked, standing hesitantly at the door.
“Yes, of course, come in,” I said with a reassuring smile.
Colin walked in slowly, glancing around before settling on the couch opposite me. He looked nervous, his hands fidgeting in his lap.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“So, what brings you here?” I asked, hoping to put him at ease.
“I already mentioned that I have problems with my wife,” he replied in a cold, defensive tone.
I could tell this would be a tough session. “I know, but why don’t you tell me more about it?”
Colin sighed, looking away. “She won’t let me take care of our son. She insists he’s only hers.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And how does that make you feel?” I asked, watching his reaction closely.
“It hurts. He’s my son too,” Colin said, his voice tight with emotion.
I knew that hurt often masked deeper feelings, like anger. “Does it make you angry that you can’t spend time with your son?”
“No, I said it hurts,” he snapped, his frustration evident.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
Working with men often meant navigating their reluctance to admit feelings. “Have you tried talking to her about it?”
“Yes, but she ignores me. She says she regrets marrying me,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
“Why do you think she says that?” I asked, trying to understand the root of their issues.
“I don’t know. She keeps saying that our son is only hers and she will never have more children with me. We just had a baby. It should have brought us closer,” Colin said, his voice filled with confusion and pain.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Oh, so you have a newborn?” I asked, understanding more about their situation.
“Yes, he’s just a month old,” Colin replied, a hint of pride in his voice.
“I see. Some women have a hard time after childbirth and fall into a depressive phase. Could it be related?” I suggested, trying to explore all possibilities.
“No, she’s fine. She takes good care of our son,” he said, shaking his head.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“And what did you mean when you said your wife doesn’t want more children with you?” I asked, sensing a deeper issue.
“She says it’s because I’m a bad father. But she doesn’t even give me a chance to be one,” Colin said, his frustration clear.
His wife’s behavior was strange. Usually, postpartum depression causes a woman to withdraw from everyone, including the child. “I understand your feelings. Can you recall any events that led to this period in your relationship?”
“Not really. Everything was fine. Though, she has this friend, Toby. They spend a lot of time together, and at some point, I even started doubting if the child is mine,” he admitted, his voice filled with insecurity.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Are you against their communication?” I asked, trying to gauge his feelings.
“Of course, who would like their wife spending time with another man?” he said, his anger bubbling to the surface.
“Nowadays, friendships between men and women are quite common, and if there’s no hint of betrayal, I don’t think it’s worth stressing over,” I said, hoping to calm him.
“So, you think she’s cheating on me too?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not what I meant at all,” I clarified, trying to steer the conversation back to his feelings.
“I don’t know, it all seems like cheating to me,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
“Just because they communicate doesn’t mean she’s cheating,” I reiterated, but Colin seemed to ignore my words, twisting everything to fit his narrative. People often do that, living in illusions rather than facing the truth. However, I couldn’t understand what truth Colin was justifying.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at the clock above the couch and realized our session was coming to an end. “Colin, I’m afraid we need to wrap up,” I said gently.
“But I haven’t covered everything. I thought one session would be enough,” Colin said, his frustration evident.
“Many think that, but it’s rarely true. Shall I book you for another session?” I offered, knowing he needed more time.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Yes, please,” he agreed, a bit of hope in his eyes.
We scheduled our next meeting for the following week, and I saw Colin out of my office. “Take care,” I said as he left. Colin just waved goodbye, his mind clearly elsewhere.
I returned to my office and sighed heavily. Some clients drained all my energy, but I loved my job, and it was part of it. So, I sat back in my chair and prepared for the next client, ready to help them navigate their own struggles.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
A week later, Colin was due to see me again. All week, his case had lingered in my mind. I had a nagging feeling that he wasn’t telling me everything.
“Come in,” I called out when Colin knocked on my door. He entered the office, moving slowly. He sat on the couch, avoiding eye contact.
“So, how have you been?” I asked, trying to gauge his mood.
“Same as before,” he replied, sighing. “She hardly talks to me. But she was very kind when Toby, that friend I mentioned, came over.”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Yes, I remember. How do you feel about that?” I asked, watching his face.
“I want to punch him,” Colin said, clenching his fists.
Anger can be useful if managed well, but I wasn’t sure Colin could handle it. “What does your wife say about it?” I asked, trying to understand more.
She says they’re just friends. But who calls just a friend to be at the birth?” he said, his voice rising
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
This was interesting. “Can you tell me more about that?” I asked, leaning forward.
“My wife went into labor, but I couldn’t take her to the hospital because my mother had an accident, and I was going to pick her up from the hospital. It was nothing serious, but she was shaken. So I told my wife to call my sister, who lives 20-25 minutes away, to take her to the hospital.”
“Sorry to interrupt, but didn’t your wife also need to go to the hospital? Why didn’t you take her and then go together to your mother?” I asked, puzzled.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“Because my mother lives in a neighboring town, and the hospital was there too,” Colin explained, a bit irritated.
“I see. Please continue,” I urged him gently.
“Instead of calling my sister, she called Toby because he supposedly lives closer,” Colin continued, his jaw tightening.
“And that’s why he was at the birth?” I asked, trying to piece it together.
“Yes,” Colin confirmed, his eyes flashing with anger.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“How did you find out about it?” I asked.
“My sister also came to the hospital and recorded a video for me. I saw my wife holding Toby’s hand during contractions. When I brought my mother home, I asked my sister to FaceTime me. I saw Toby comforting my wife, doing everything a husband should do,” Colin said, his voice trembling.
“Why didn’t you go to the birth after taking your mother home?” I asked, sensing there was more to the story.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“My mother said she felt unwell and asked me to stay,” Colin admitted, looking down.
So the mother comes first. That’s always a problem, I thought. When men put their mothers first, the marriage won’t last long. “And you decided to stay with her?” I asked, my tone neutral.
“Yes, and when I came the next day and visited my wife, she wouldn’t even let me hold our son. She said I didn’t deserve it,” Colin said, his voice cracking.
“How did you react?” I asked, giving him space to express his feelings.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I called her a cheater for having another man at our son’s birth,” Colin said, tears forming in his eyes.
“Do you think that was a good idea?” I asked softly.
“I don’t know, but it’s the truth. And she humiliated me in front of our relatives by saying I didn’t deserve to hold our son because I didn’t take her to the hospital. I’ve apologized a thousand times, but she still won’t let me near our son,” Colin said, his voice filled with despair.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
I nodded, letting Colin vent his frustrations. “I did everything for her, and she does this to me. She could have just called my sister, not Toby. Do you understand why I think she’s cheating on me? And I think that’s why she won’t let me take care of our son, because he’s not really mine,” Colin finished, his shoulders slumping.
I sat back, thinking about what Colin had shared. His pain was real, but his perception might be clouded by his anger and jealousy.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
I still felt he wasn’t telling me everything. We discussed the situation again, but I still couldn’t understand why his wife called another man to the birth. Maybe it was some form of revenge for Colin not coming.
After our session ended, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. For the first time in my career, I decided to break protocol. I left work, got in my car, and twenty minutes later, I stood in front of Colin’s house.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
I felt nervous and unsure, knowing this was unprofessional. But I also knew I had to talk to his wife to get a better understanding.
I knocked on the door, and after a moment, a tired woman with a baby in her arms opened it. She looked at me, puzzled.
“Excuse me, are you Colin’s wife?” I asked gently.
“Yes, I’m Emily,” she replied, her brow furrowing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Nice to meet you. My name is Kate. I’m Colin’s psychologist, and I’d like to talk to you if you don’t mind,” I said, trying to put her at ease.
“Alright,” Emily replied, still looking confused. She led me to the living room, and we sat on the couch. The room was cozy, cluttered with baby items.
“I don’t want to beat around the bush, so I’ll get straight to the point. Colin mentioned that you won’t let him take care of your son,” I said, watching her reaction.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Well, I have my reasons. I don’t trust him, and I can’t trust him with my son,” Emily replied firmly.
“Is it because he didn’t come to the birth?” I asked, wanting to understand her perspective.
“Yes, even though I told him how important it was for me. Instead, he wanted his sister, who hates me and always belittles me, to be there. I didn’t want her there in such a vulnerable moment, but she came anyway,” Emily said, her voice shaking with emotion.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
This information changed everything. “I understand you, but maybe you could forgive him? I can suggest a family therapy session. After all, he wasn’t just sitting at home; he was helping his mother, who had an accident.”
Emily looked at me sharply. “Is that what he told you? He was helping his ex-girlfriend move because she was relocating.”
Oh my God, what a nightmare, I thought. This was why I decided to talk to Emily; I knew Colin wasn’t telling me everything. “Colin also complained that your friend was there,” I said, trying to remain neutral.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Toby, yes. We’ve been friends since third grade, and there’s never been anything romantic between us, but I trust him. That’s why I asked him to take me. Besides, he lives closer than Colin’s sister,” Emily explained.
“Have you tried talking to Colin about this?” I asked, feeling the tension in the room.
“I tried, but he doesn’t listen. He says he’s apologized a hundred times for not being at the birth. But he did it just to hear me say I’m not angry. I can’t trust my child to someone who doesn’t care about me. How can I know he cares about our son?” Emily said, tears welling up in her eyes.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Have you considered leaving?” I asked, sensing her desperation.
“I have, but I don’t have a job or money. I’m financially dependent on Colin,” Emily admitted, looking down.
“Did you know his sister was on FaceTime with Colin the whole time you were in labor?” I asked, feeling the need to share this piece of information.
“What? No, that’s horrible. I didn’t even notice her,” Emily said, her face paling.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
“Emily, if you really want to leave him, I can help you,” I said, offering her a lifeline.
“Really?” she asked, her eyes widening with hope.
“Yes, you can’t raise a child in such conditions,” I said firmly.
Half an hour later, Emily and her son’s belongings were in my car. I was glad I had come to see her and heard her side. I hoped I could help them find a better path.
The drive back to my office was quiet, but I felt a sense of purpose. This was why I became a psychologist, to help people like Emily find the strength to change their lives.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Midjourney
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: One evening, I agreed to look after my best friend’s son, and that night changed my life forever. What I discovered made me see my surroundings in a completely different light. How can I now cope with the revelations that have shattered my trust in those closest to me? Read the full story here.
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