The couple currently “don’t have any summer plans together,” a source tells PEOPLE.
According to a source who spoke with PEOPLE, Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck are “focused on their separate lives” this summer due to marital discord.
According to a person close to Lopez, the pair “don’t have any summer plans together” at this time.
Lopez just got back to Los Angeles from her vacation in Europe. The actress “enjoyed her trip to Europe,” according to the insider, and “has more travel planned, but is back in L.A. for now.”
The Academy Award-winning director moved all of his belongings out of the couple’s Beverly Hills mansion before Lopez returned from her trip to Europe, a source previously told PEOPLE, more than a month after PEOPLE first revealed that Affleck, 51, and Lopez, 54, were living apart in Los Angeles as they dealt with marital discord.
Ben is still residing in the rented property in Brentwood. He has been there for the past two months, according to a different source. “He appears to be alright. He appears to be focused on his work and has been at his workplace every day. He is also interacting with his children.
After the Atlas actress returned from her trip, the couple got back together on June 26. They were seen going individually inside a West Hollywood building where they both have offices.
According to a source, Affleck and Lopez “remain friendly” and are concentrating on their careers and families despite the rumors regarding their romance. In a heartfelt Father’s Day homage, Lopez even posted a picture of Affleck, dubbed “our hero,” on her Instagram Story on June 16.
While Lopez shares her twins Emme and Max, 16, with her ex-husband Marc Anthony, Affleck is the father of three children with his ex-wife Jennifer Garner: Violet, 18, Seraphina, 15, and Samuel, 12.
I Came Home from Vacation to Find a Huge Hole Dug in My Backyard – I Wanted to Call the Cops until I Saw What Was at the Bottom
When I cut short our vacation due to Karen falling ill, the last thing I expected was to find a massive hole in our backyard upon returning home. Initially alarmed, I hesitated when I spotted a shovel inside, leading me into an unexpected adventure involving buried treasure, newfound friendship, and lessons in life’s true values.
Karen and I rushed back from the beach early after she fell ill. Exhausted but wary, I decided to check the house’s perimeter before settling in. That’s when I stumbled upon the gaping pit in our lawn.
“What’s this?” I muttered, approaching cautiously.
At the bottom, amid scattered debris, lay a shovel. My first instinct was to call the police, but then I considered the possibility that the digger might return, knowing we were supposed to be away.
Turning to Karen, who looked unwell, I suggested keeping the car hidden in the garage to maintain the appearance of absence.
As night descended, I kept vigil by a window, watching and waiting. Just as I was about to give up, I spotted a shadow vaulting over our fence.
Heart pounding, I ventured out with my phone ready to call the authorities. Approaching the pit, I heard the clink of metal on earth.
“Hey!” I exclaimed, shining my phone’s light into the hole. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The figure looked up, squinting. My jaw dropped—it was George, the previous owner of our house.
“Frank?” he stammered, equally surprised. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I retorted. “What are you doing in my yard in the middle of the night?”
George climbed out, looking sheepish. “I can explain. Just… please don’t involve the police.”
Arms folded, I demanded an explanation.
“My grandfather owned this place,” George began, “and I recently discovered he hid something valuable here. I thought I’d dig it up while you were away.”
“You broke into my yard to hunt for treasure?” I couldn’t believe it.
“I know how it sounds,” George pleaded, “but it’s true. Help me dig, and we’ll split whatever we find.”
Despite my better judgment, I agreed. Over hours of digging, we shared stories, George revealing his hardships—a lost job and his wife’s illness. His hope for this treasure to change their lives touched me.
As dawn approached, our optimism dwindled with each shovel of dirt revealing nothing but rocks and roots.
“I was so sure…” George’s disappointment was palpable.
Offering a ride home, we filled the pit and drove to his house, where his wife, Margaret, greeted us anxiously.
“George! Where have you been?” Margaret exclaimed, eyeing me curiously.
Explaining the situation, George’s dream of buried treasure was deflated by Margaret’s reality check.
“My grandfather’s tales were just that—stories,” she gently reminded him.
Apologizing, George and Margaret offered to repair our yard. I declined, suggesting they join us for dinner instead.
Driving home, I shared the night’s escapade with Karen, who teased me about my unusual night with a stranger. Reflecting on our conversation, I proposed inviting George and Margaret for dinner—an unexpected outcome from a night of digging for imaginary treasure.
As I assessed the yard in daylight, I realized life’s treasures aren’t always what we seek but the connections we forge along the way.
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