My Ex-husband Returned 10 Years After Leaving, but Not for the Reason I Expected

When my ex-husband, Josh, showed up on my doorstep after disappearing for 10 years, I had no idea why he’d returned. What could he possibly want now, after abandoning me and our daughter, Chloe?

Looking at Josh, I didn’t recognize the man I’d once fallen in love with. Time had aged him, and guilt was written all over his face. At that point, I had every right to slam the door in his face, but I didn’t do it.

I didn’t do it for Chloe’s sake. I knew she needed her dad in her life.

A girl sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

A girl sitting on a couch | Source: Midjourney

Being a single mom isn’t easy, but raising my daughter, Chloe, has been the most rewarding challenge of my life.

For 10 years, it’s just been the two of us. There were moments I struggled, but every time Chloe smiled or reached a milestone, I knew it was all worth it.

She’s my pride, my strength, and my reason to keep going.

But things weren’t always this way.

Years ago, I was married to Josh, a man I once thought would be my forever.

A couple showing their rings | Source: Pexels

A couple showing their rings | Source: Pexels

We met through a mutual friend, and I was immediately drawn to his charm and wit. Our friendship turned into love almost effortlessly.

Back then, I noticed a few things about Josh that I chose to ignore.

For one, he was always cautious about money. I remember how he hesitated before agreeing to splurge on a nice dinner or how he’d suggest I not buy something because it seemed “too expensive,” even when it wasn’t. I brushed it off as him being practical.

In hindsight, those were red flags I should have paid attention to.

A close-up shot of a woman's eyes | Source: Midjourney

A close-up shot of a woman’s eyes | Source: Midjourney

When Josh proposed, I didn’t think twice. We were in love, and at that time, both of us were working stable jobs.

We got married in an intimate ceremony, and it was just perfect.

But a few months into our marriage, cracks began to show. Josh’s frugality became more pronounced.

He’d question every purchase, from groceries to basic household items.

A man holding money | Source: Pexels

A man holding money | Source: Pexels

“Do we really need this?” he’d ask, even when the answer was obvious.

It wasn’t long before I found myself managing most of our expenses, which led to tension. So, one evening, I decided to address it.

“Josh,” I said gently, “why am I covering most of the bills lately? We’re supposed to be a team.”

He sighed and apologized.

“I love you, Lauren, and I promise I’ll step up. I just want to make sure we’re being responsible.”

His words reassured me, but looking back, I realize they were just that. Words.

A woman standing near a window | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing near a window | Source: Midjourney

When I became pregnant, Josh surprised me. He seemed genuinely excited and eager to prepare for the baby’s arrival.

He bought furniture for the nursery, attended prenatal classes with me, and even treated me to a spa day. For a while, I believed this was the real Josh.

After Chloe was born, his enthusiasm continued. He doted on her, buying toys and clothes and making sure we had what we needed.

Back then, I felt super grateful. I thought we’d finally found our groove as a family.

A couple holding hands | Source: Midjourney

A couple holding hands | Source: Midjourney

But as time went on, the old Josh resurfaced. He began complaining about the cost of diapers and formula, grumbling that we were spending too much on Chloe.

When I mentioned we needed a new car seat because Chloe had outgrown hers, he snapped, “Do you know how much those things cost?”

Arguments about money became a regular occurrence. He was struggling at work, but he wouldn’t talk to me about it.

Instead, he bottled everything up, growing distant and irritable.

A stressed man | Source: Pexels

A stressed man | Source: Pexels

Then came the evening that changed everything.

I’d just returned from work when I found a note on the kitchen table.

I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.

Next to it were divorce papers, already signed. Josh had left without saying anything. No explanation. No goodbye.

I was left to pick up the pieces for myself and our two-year-old daughter, Chloe. At the time, I thought I’d never recover.

The early days after Josh left were full of tears.

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

A woman crying | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t understand how someone could walk away from their family, especially their own child. I tried calling him, but his number was disconnected. I even reached out to his friends, but none of them had heard from him.

For a long time, I questioned everything. Was he with someone else? Or was the pressure of being a father too much for him?

But Chloe didn’t leave me much time to dwell on my pain. She needed me, and I had to be strong for her.

A little girl | Source: Pexels

A little girl | Source: Pexels

I took on a second job to make ends meet, often skipping meals or wearing the same old clothes so I could provide everything she needed.

As the years passed, Chloe and I built a close bond. I was her everything. Her mom, her dad, her protector, and her biggest cheerleader.

But explaining Josh’s absence was never easy.

When Chloe was younger, I’d tell her, “Daddy had to leave because he was going through things I couldn’t understand.”

A woman braiding her daughter's hair | Source: Pexels

A woman braiding her daughter’s hair | Source: Pexels

As she got older, I explained more, though I never badmouthed him.

“It wasn’t your fault, and it wasn’t mine,” I told her. “Sometimes adults make choices they regret.”

However, when Chloe turned 12, she started asking harder questions.

“Do you think he regrets it, Mom?” she asked one evening as we sat together on the couch.

“I don’t know, sweetie,” I replied. “But I do know that his choices don’t define you or me.”

“I’m glad I have you,” she said quietly.

“And I’m glad I have you, too,” I said and smiled.

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

At that point, I thought we’d moved past the pain Josh had caused. I thought we were finally at peace, unaware that the past would literally come knocking at my door.

It happened on a quiet Saturday afternoon.

Chloe was at a friend’s house, and I was finally catching up on some much-needed cleaning when the doorbell rang.

I expected it to be a package or maybe a neighbor. But when I opened the door, I froze.

It was Josh.

A man standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney

A man standing outdoors | Source: Midjourney

He looked different.

He was thinner and older, and his once vibrant eyes looked so dull.

“Hi, Lauren,” he said in a trembling voice.

I stared at him in shock. I wanted to slam the door in his face, scream at him for what he’d done, and demand answers.

But instead, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

He exhaled deeply.

“I, uh… Can I come in? I need to talk to you.”

A man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

A man talking to a woman | Source: Midjourney

Against my better judgment, I stepped aside and let him in. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t ignore the possibility that Chloe deserved answers, even if I didn’t want to hear them myself.

Chloe came home about an hour later.

She walked into the living room, spotted Josh, and froze mid-step. Then, her gaze shifted to me as she searched for an explanation.

“Is that… is that Dad?” she asked.

I’d shown Chloe photos of him, and he looked way older than the image of him she had built in her mind.

“Yes,” I nodded. “That’s your father.”

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

“Hi, Chloe,” Josh said as he stood up awkwardly.

For a long moment, there was silence. Then Chloe, always so composed, asked the most important question.

“Why are you here?”

Josh’s shoulders slumped, and he lowered himself into a chair.

“Because I made a mistake, Chloe,” he whispered. “I left when I shouldn’t have. And now I’m here to make things right.”

“And how do I know you won’t leave again?” Chloe asked.

Josh looked like he’d seen a ghost. He started coughing before he could answer.

“You don’t,” he finally replied. “But I’ll spend every moment I have proving to you that I won’t.”

A tired man | Source: Midjourney

A tired man | Source: Midjourney

I knew I couldn’t trust Josh, but I decided to give him a chance for my daughter’s sake.

“You can stay for dinner,” I said finally. “But this doesn’t mean anything. We’re taking this one step at a time.”

Josh nodded gratefully, clearing his throat. “Thank you, Lauren. I, uh, I promise, I just want to reconnect with Chloe.”

A man looking at his ex-wife | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his ex-wife | Source: Midjourney

That night, I lay awake, grappling with the decision to let him back into our lives. I told myself I was doing it for Chloe, but a part of me knew I needed answers, too.

Who was this man now, and why had he really come back? He looked so different. So weak. So fragile.

A few weeks after his return, things were still tense. He visited daily and bonded with Chloe while helping her with homework. They even cooked dinner together sometimes.

I noticed she was beginning to warm up to him, though her guard was still up.

A girl looking away from her father | Source: Midjourney

A girl looking away from her father | Source: Midjourney

One evening, after they had finished a school project, Chloe turned to me with a question. “Mom, do you think Dad will disappear again?”

Honestly, I didn’t have an answer.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. But I promise, no matter what happens, I’ll be here.”

That’s when my gaze landed on Josh who’d overheard the conversation. He looked devastated but didn’t say anything.

Later that night, I confronted him before he left.

“What are you really doing here, Josh?” I asked. “Why now, after all this time?”

A woman talking to her ex-husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her ex-husband | Source: Midjourney

His face clouded with guilt, but he deflected.

“I just… I saw her picture in the paper when she won the Academic Excellence Award. It hit me how much I’ve missed, Lauren.”

“I don’t believe it. You’re not telling me everything,” I pressed. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

Josh didn’t answer, but his health was already raising more questions than he could dodge.

I’d noticed him cough several times ever since he’d returned to our lives, and it hadn’t gotten any better. He also had this fatigue that didn’t seem to improve.

A worried man | Source: Midjourney

A worried man | Source: Midjourney

Whenever I asked him about it, he just said he was “exhausted from traveling,” but I wasn’t convinced.

And then came the evening his secret came to light.

Josh was helping Chloe with her homework in the living room when I heard a loud thud. I rushed in to find him collapsed on the floor.

“What happened to him, Mom?” Chloe asked, crying.

“Josh?” I shouted, trying to shake him awake. “Josh? What happened?”

He didn’t respond and was trying hard to catch his breath. I knew we needed help, so I immediately called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital.

I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before a doctor approached me.

A doctor | Source: Pexels

A doctor | Source: Pexels

“We’ve stabilized him,” he said. “But he needs to stay overnight for observation.”

My knees wobbled as I nodded.

I was led into the room where Josh lay, pale and fragile, hooked up to machines that beeped softly in the background.

When he saw me, he weakly motioned for me to come closer.

“I have to tell you something,” he whispered.

“What is it, Josh?” I asked as I sat beside him. I gripped the chair so tightly my knuckles turned white.

“I have cancer, Lauren. Late-stage. The doctors say I don’t have much time.”

I was unable to comprehend his words.

“Cancer?” I repeated. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

A woman talking to her ex-husband | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her ex-husband | Source: Midjourney

“I didn’t want you and Chloe to think I came back because I needed something,” he said. “I didn’t want to burden you more than I already have.”

“You… you left us, Josh,” I managed to speak, staring into his eyes. “You left me to raise Chloe alone, and now you’re back because you’re dying? Do you have any idea what we’ve been through?”

He winced at my words but didn’t look away.

A man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

A man in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

“I know I hurt you, Lauren,” he whispered. “But back then, I thought leaving was the right thing to do. I felt like a failure. As a husband. As a father… I couldn’t provide for you the way you deserved. My anxiety convinced me that you were better off without me. After all, our arguments never seemed to end.”

An angry man | Source: Pexels

An angry man | Source: Pexels

“Better off?” I snapped as tears streamed down my cheeks. “Chloe grew up wondering why her dad didn’t want her. She deserved so much better than this, Josh! We could’ve worked everything out. We could’ve found a solution.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “I wanted to come back so many times, but I was ashamed. Every time I thought about returning, I’d convince myself it was too late. And then… this illness forced me to confront the truth. I couldn’t leave this world without making things right with Chloe.”

A man lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

A man lying in a hospital bed | Source: Midjourney

I didn’t know what to say after that. We stayed silent for a few minutes as I processed my feelings. I wanted to scream at him, but I also felt like crying for him.

“What am I supposed to tell Chloe now?” I finally asked. “How am I supposed to help her through this?”

“Tell her I came back because I love her,” he cried. “Tell her I want to be here for her, for however much time I have left.”

That evening, I sat down with Chloe and gently explained what was happening.

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking to her daughter | Source: Midjourney

“So, he’s going to leave us again?” she asked, looking at me with wide eyes.

“No, honey. Not like before,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “This time, he’s here to stay for as long as he can.”

Chloe was hurt, confused, and angry all at once.

“Why did he have to wait until now? Why couldn’t he come back when I was little?”

“I don’t know, sweetie. But I think… I think he was scared. People don’t always make the right choices, even when they mean well.”

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking straight ahead | Source: Midjourney

My little girl was angry, but she didn’t let it control her decision. She understood her father was in a difficult position, so she agreed to forgive him.

She told me she wanted to spend what time they had left together.

In the weeks following his diagnosis, Josh made every effort to bond with Chloe. He played board games with her, cheered her on at her soccer matches, and even helped her bake cookies for a school fundraiser.

One Saturday afternoon, Chloe found Josh writing at the dining table.

“What are you doing, Dad?” she asked curiously.

A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels

A man writing a letter | Source: Pexels

“I’m writing letters for you,” he smiled. “For all the big moments in your life. Your graduation, your wedding, or just a day when you need a reminder of how much I love you.”

“But you don’t need to leave me notes,” Chloe said as she sat beside him. “I just want you to stay.”

Those words broke my heart.

A close-up shot of a woman crying | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a woman crying | Source: Pexels

Unfortunately, Josh passed away a few months later.

He was happy knowing he was surrounded by the two most important people in his life during the last moments of his life.

“I love you more than you’ll ever know,” he’d said a few minutes before he left us.

A close-up shot of a coffin | Source: Pexels

A close-up shot of a coffin | Source: Pexels

After his death, Chloe clung to the letters he left behind, often reading them aloud.

One evening, she turned to me and said, “I know he wasn’t perfect, but he loved me in the end. That’s what I’ll hold on to.”

I smiled through my tears and pulled her into a hug.

I felt incredibly proud of the compassion and resilience Chloe had inherited. Moreover, I was amazed at how she’d forgiven her father and only wanted to remember how kind and caring he was.

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

A woman standing in her house | Source: Midjourney

As for me, I’ve also forgiven my ex-husband, and it has given me the peace to move forward in my life. I’m grateful fate gave me a chance to answer the questions that had been worrying me for ten years.

I don’t know what the future holds for us, but I’m relieved knowing my past will never haunt me again.

If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: My husband always left for work in his shiny SUV, but then I saw him switching to a rusty old car halfway through the day. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was off, so I followed him. But I wasn’t prepared for where he went.

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.

Me desperté en mitad de la noche y encontré a un completo desconocido tumbado a mi lado en lugar de mi marido

Estaba agotadísima por un exigente turno de noche en la tienda. Me tiré en la cama y me abracé a lo que creía que era mi marido, que yacía a mi lado en nuestro dormitorio en penumbra. Me desperté sobresaltada en plena noche cuando me di cuenta de que el hombre que estaba a mi lado NO ERA MI MARIDO, sino un TOTAL EXTRAÑO.

Mi marido Christian y yo llevamos casados cinco años. Normalmente, somos esa molesta pareja que no puede quitarse las manos de encima, pero últimamente, estos turnos nocturnos en la tienda me están matando.

Los turnos de diez horas tratando con universitarios borrachos y camioneros que toman bebidas energéticas no es precisamente el trabajo de mis sueños, pero me ayuda a pagar las facturas mientras Christian construye su negocio de reparación de automóviles.

Una mujer agotada en una tienda | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer agotada en una tienda | Fuente: Midjourney

Cuando terminó mi turno, a las 3 de la madrugada, funcionaba con el piloto automático. Me dolían los pies, me palpitaba la cabeza y sólo podía pensar en nuestro colchón de espuma llamándome por mi nombre.

Apenas recordaba el camino de vuelta a casa, aunque estoy segura de que mantuve una conversación fascinante con una señal de stop que confundí con un guardia de tráfico.

La casa estaba oscura y silenciosa cuando llegué. No era nada inusual. Me quité los zapatos de una patada, dejando un rastro de ropa desde la puerta hasta nuestro dormitorio, como un Hansel y Gretel muy cansado y confuso.

La luz de la calle que se filtraba a través de las cortinas me iluminó lo suficiente para distinguir una figura bajo las sábanas. Perfecto. Christian ya estaba en casa y dormido. La idea me hizo sonreír.

Una mujer de pie en el dormitorio | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer de pie en el dormitorio | Fuente: Midjourney

Me metí bajo las sábanas, acurrucándome contra lo que creía que era la cálida espalda de mi marido. El olor familiar de nuestro detergente se mezcló con algo más. ¿Quizá una colonia nueva?

Estaba demasiado agotada para pensar en ello, aunque me pregunté brevemente por qué de repente sentía su brazo más voluminoso, casi como un muslo. ¡Debe de ser una de esas cosas que pasan durante el matrimonio! razoné en mi estado de falta de sueño.

“Cariño”, susurré, acurrucándome más. “Esta noche hueles diferente. Como a whisky rebajado y a malas decisiones. Me gusta”. Solté una risita, pasando los dedos por lo que creía que era el pelo de Christian. “Muy sexy. Muy misterioso”.

La figura permaneció en silencio.

Un hombre tumbado junto a una mujer en la cama | Fuente: Pexels

Un hombre tumbado junto a una mujer en la cama | Fuente: Pexels

Sintiéndome juguetona a pesar de mi agotamiento, froté mi pierna contra la suya, intentando ser seductora. En lugar de la habitual piel suave, sentí algo diferente. Muy diferente.

“Cariño -murmuré, sin dejar de frotar mi pierna contra la suya-, ¿cuándo se convirtieron tus piernas en un césped desmesurado? ¿Te has unido a algún grupo de apoyo a los hombres lobo mientras yo estaba en el trabajo? Porque tengo que decir que toda esta situación de pie grande que tienes ahí abajo es inesperada”.

Seguía sin responder.

“Te haces el duro, ¿eh? murmuré. “Bueno, dos pueden jugar a ese juego, Sr. Oso Silencioso y Lechero. Pero antes, déjame que te hable de ese cliente loco que intentó pagar su granizado con dinero falso”.

Seguía sin responder.

Una mujer sospechosa en la cama | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer sospechosa en la cama | Fuente: Midjourney

“Vaya, estás muy comprometido con este tratamiento del silencio”, bostecé, dándole una palmadita en lo que supuse que era su hombro. “No pasa nada, cariño. Mañana podemos hablar de cómo te salieron pelos en las piernas y te convertiste en el primo de pie grande. Seguro que hay una explicación perfectamente razonable”.

Me quedé dormida. Entonces, en plena noche, mi teléfono zumbó con un mensaje de texto de… CHRISTIAN

“Hola, nena, salgo del bar con unos amigos. Estaré en casa en 5 minutos. ¡¿Sigues despierta?! 😜😘”.

Mi cerebro tardó exactamente tres segundos en procesar esta información. Si Christian estaba en el bar, ¿entonces QUIÉN demonios estaba durmiendo cerca de mí?

Una mujer asustada en la cama sujetando un teléfono | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer asustada en la cama sujetando un teléfono | Fuente: Midjourney

Me eché hacia atrás tan rápido que casi me caigo de la cama, llevándome la mitad de las sábanas conmigo y envolviéndome como un burrito aterrorizado.

“¡Eh!”, grité, con la voz saltando tres octavas. “¡Despierta! A menos que seas un sueño muy realista, en cuyo caso, ¡desaparece, por favor!”.

La figura bostezó y se dio la vuelta, mostrando un rostro que no había visto en mi vida. Un hombre de pelo oscuro despeinado y barba desaliñada me parpadeó confundido.

“¿QUÉ DEMONIOS? ¿QUIÉN ERES Y QUÉ HACES EN MI CAMA?”, grité, agarrando el arma más cercana que encontré: una botella de agua medio vacía de mi mesilla de noche.

Un hombre bostezando | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre bostezando | Fuente: Midjourney

“¡Acabo de frotarte las piernas peludas! No puedes quedarte ahí tumbado y fingir que no ha pasado nada”.

El desconocido se incorporó, mirando alrededor de la habitación con ojos vidriosos. “¿Por qué gritas en mi habitación? ¿Qué piernas peludas?”.

“¿Tu dormitorio? Éste es MI DORMITORIO, ¡invasor de hogares!”.

Sin pensarlo, destapé la botella de agua y se la tiré directamente por la cabeza. Balbuceó, de repente parecía mucho más despierto y mucho más confuso.

Una mujer enfadada señalando con el dedo | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer enfadada señalando con el dedo | Fuente: Midjourney

“¿Qué? ¿Ésta no es mi habitación? Parpadeó, con el agua cayéndole por la cara. “¿Dónde está mi lámpara escandinava? ¿Y mi colección de patitos de goma? ¿Y mi recorte de cartón de tamaño natural de ese cocinero gritón de la tele?”.

Fue entonces cuando oí abrirse la puerta principal.

“¿Cariño? gritó la voz de Christian. “¿Por qué está toda tu ropa en el pasillo? ¿Has vuelto a intentar hacer un puente de ropa hasta el dormitorio?”.

Apareció en la puerta y su sonrisa desapareció al instante. ¿”RHEA”? ¿Qué demonios está pasando? ¿Quién es este tío? ¿Qué hace en nuestro dormitorio? ¿En nuestra cama? ¿CONTIGO?”.

Un hombre totalmente conmocionado | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre totalmente conmocionado | Fuente: Midjourney

“¡Christian, puedo explicártelo!”. Levanté las manos. “Acabo de llegar a casa y…”

“¿Qué?”. La cara de Christian se ensombreció al entrar en la habitación. “¿Es por esto por lo que últimamente estás ‘muy cansada’?”.

“¡Cariño, tenemos un intruso!”. Cogí mi bata de la silla, envolviéndome con ella. “¡Literalmente, acabo de encontrarlo aquí! Creía que eras tú. La habitación estaba a oscuras y yo…”.

Una mujer aturdida | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer aturdida | Fuente: Midjourney

El desconocido se levantó, balanceándose ligeramente. “Espera, espera”. Entrecerró los ojos y miró la foto familiar de la pared. “Ésa no es la foto de mi boda. Esa gente ni siquiera lleva disfraces de dinosaurio”.

“¡Claro que no es la foto de tu boda!”, espeté. “¡Ésta no es tu casa! ¿Y qué clase de boda tiene disfraces de dinosaurio?”.

“¡Una impresionante!”, respondió solemnemente, todavía chorreando agua.

“Soy Max”, continuó, pasándose las manos por el pelo mojado. “Me acabo de mudar ayer a la casa de al lado. ¿En el número 42? ¿La casa del flamenco de plástico con sombrero de copa?”.

“Somos el 24”. Christian se cruzó de brazos. “La casa con el enano de jardín montado en una moto”.

Un hombre sujetándose la cabeza | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre sujetándose la cabeza | Fuente: Midjourney

“¡Ah!”. Max asintió sabiamente. “Eso explica muchas cosas, en realidad. Verás, estaba en un bar y tenían un bourbon increíble… y luego tenían más bourbon increíble… y luego el bourbon empezó a tener bourbon…”.

No pude evitarlo y se me escapó una risita. Christian me lanzó una mirada, pero pude ver cómo se le movía la comisura de los labios.

“Y perdí las llaves -continuó Max-, pero vi una ventana abierta en la cocina que era exactamente igual a la mía, salvo que, al parecer, no era mía, a menos que alguien me robara los patitos de goma y el recortable del chef de la tele mientras estaba fuera”.

“¡Porque son casas idénticas, amigo!”, terminó Christian, sacudiendo la cabeza.

Un hombre sonriendo | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre sonriendo | Fuente: Midjourney

“En mi defensa”, dijo Max, todavía empapado, “tus cojines son muy parecidos a los míos. Aunque los tuyos tienen menos manchas de tacos. Además, nadie había comparado nunca mis piernas con un césped crecido. Prefiero pensar en ellas como un jardín orgánico”.

A estas alturas, ya me estaba partiendo de risa. Lo absurdo de la situación, el alivio de que no fuera algo peor y quizá un poco de histeria por falta de sueño, todo a la vez.

“No me puedo creer que mi mujer se haya acurrucado con nuestro vecino borracho que se ha colado por la ventana”, se rio Christian, y se le pasó el enfado. “Y al parecer le frotó las piernas peludas”.

“No puedo creer que siga mojado”, se rio Max. “¡Mi esposa se partirá de risa cuando llegue mañana y se entere de esto!”.

Una mujer riendo | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer riendo | Fuente: Midjourney

Cuando todos nos calmamos, Christian suspiró. “Mira, tío, son casi las 4 de la mañana. Sigues borracho y no voy a dejar que intentes entrar en más casas esta noche”.

“El sofá es bastante cómodo”, le ofrecí. “¡Aunque no viene con una lámpara escandinava de regalo!”.

“Es mejor que la cárcel”, añadió Christian con una sonrisa. “O volver a intentar encontrar el camino de vuelta a la casa equivocada”.

Un hombre sonriente señalando algo con el dedo | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre sonriente señalando algo con el dedo | Fuente: Midjourney

A la mañana siguiente, me desperté con el olor a café y el sonido de las risas en la cocina. Encontré a Christian y Max sentados en la barra del desayuno, compartiendo historias como viejos amigos.

“Así que allí estaba yo”, decía Max, “absolutamente convencido de que alguien había redecorado toda mi casa mientras yo estaba fuera”.

“¡Sustituyendo al mismo tiempo todas tus fotos familiares por las de unos desconocidos!”. terminó Christian, deslizándome una taza de café.

Un hombre alegre con una taza de café en la mano | Fuente: Midjourney

Un hombre alegre con una taza de café en la mano | Fuente: Midjourney

“Tu mujer es una desconocida muy convincente”. Max levantó la taza. “Aunque aún estoy esperando a oír cómo acaba esa historia de granizados”.

“Espera a oír cómo nos conocimos Christian y yo”, dije, sentándome en un taburete. “Tiene que ver con una reparación de un Automóvil que salió mal y un perro muy enfadado”.

“¡Esa sí que es una historia que necesito oír!”, dijo Max.

Y así fue como nuestra extraña noche se convirtió en una mañana aún mejor y en el comienzo de una inesperada amistad.

Una mujer encantada en la cocina | Fuente: Midjourney

Una mujer encantada en la cocina | Fuente: Midjourney

He aquí otra historia: La vida de un hombre afligido y solitario se ilumina de alegría cuando encuentra a un bebé abandonado en la puerta de su casa. Adopta al niño y lo cría. Pero 17 años después, un extraño llega para destrozar su mundo.

Esta obra se inspira en hechos y personas reales, pero se ha ficcionalizado con fines creativos. Se han cambiado nombres, personajes y detalles para proteger la intimidad y mejorar la narración. Cualquier parecido con personas reales, vivas o muertas, o con hechos reales es pura coincidencia y no es intención del autor.

El autor y el editor no garantizan la exactitud de los acontecimientos ni la representación de los personajes, y no se hacen responsables de ninguna interpretación errónea. Esta historia se proporciona “tal cual”, y las opiniones expresadas son las de los personajes y no reflejan los puntos de vista del autor ni del editor.

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