I got home early, and Greg greeted me with an unusual smile and an offer to massage my feet—something he’d never done before. I wanted to believe it was kindness, but a faint click from the bathroom told me the truth: my husband was hiding a devastating secret.
It all started six years ago. I was 29, fresh out of a long-term relationship, and feeling like I’d never find someone again.
A sad young woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels
Then, one evening, Greg walked into my life. I was sitting at a bar, nursing a glass of wine after work, when he strolled over with that confident, easy smile of his.
“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the stool beside me.
He was tall, handsome, and had a twinkle in his eye. He was the kind of guy who seemed like he had the whole world figured out. I smiled shyly and nodded.
A man in a bar | Source: Pexels
He sat down and immediately started talking. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Let me guess—accountant?”
I laughed. “Close. Marketing.”
“Ah, I knew it. You’ve got that creative, problem-solving vibe,” he said, grinning.
From that moment, I was hooked. Greg had a way of making me feel seen, like I was the most interesting person in the room. We started dating, and within a year, we were married.
A woman leaning against a man who’s smiling while working on his laptop | Source: Pexels
At first, it was perfect. He was funny, charming, and affectionate. He made me feel like I could do anything. I thought he brought out the best in me.
But as time went on, little things started to bother me. Greg didn’t want kids. He said it wasn’t the right time, but I knew deep down he’d never change his mind. It broke my heart because I had always dreamed of a big family.
A sad woman with her back turned to a distraught man | Source: Pexels
And then there was his tendency to prioritize everyone else over me. His brother needed help moving? Greg was there. His friends wanted to hang out? He’d cancel our plans without a second thought. I told myself it was just who he was, but it hurt.
Over the years, our marriage settled into something… quiet. Too quiet. The spark that had once been there was gone. We were more like roommates than a couple.
A woman talking to her husband in the corridor | Source: Pexels
That evening, I got home early from work for the first time in weeks. I was exhausted after back-to-back meetings and just wanted to kick off my heels and relax.
When I walked in, Greg was waiting for me by the door. He had this huge grin on his face, the kind that made his dimples show.
“Long day?” he asked, leaning in to kiss my cheek.
“Yeah,” I said, dropping my bag on the console table. “Exhausting.”
A tired woman | Source: Pexels
“Perfect,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll give you a foot massage.”
I blinked. Greg? Offering a foot massage? He usually groaned when I asked him to hand me the remote.
“Are you serious?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course,” he said, guiding me to the couch. “You deserve to be pampered.”
A couple kissing at home | Source: Pexels
Too tired to argue, I let him slip off my shoes. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they worked on my aching feet.
“This is… nice,” I said hesitantly.
He laughed, a little too loudly. “Can’t a guy spoil his wife without it being suspicious?”
I forced a smile but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This wasn’t Greg. At least, not the Greg I’d been living with for the past few years.
A serious woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney
Then, I heard a faint click coming from down the hall.
I sat up straight. “Did you hear that? Like the bathroom door…”
Greg laughed nervously. “Must be the pipes. You know how this old house is.”
My stomach tightened. “Greg, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!” he said, his voice pitching higher than usual. “You’re just tired. Sit down, relax…”
A nervous man in his living room | Source: Midjourney
Ignoring him, I got up and walked toward the bathroom.
“Wait!” he called after me, panic creeping into his voice. “Where are you going?”
The hallway felt longer than usual as I made my way toward the bathroom. My pulse pounded in my ears, each step making my unease grow.
A woman walking along a corridor | Source: Midjourney
When I flung the bathroom door open, the air hit me first. It was warm and humid, like someone had just stepped out of the shower. The mirror was slightly fogged.
My heart pounded as I scanned the room. That’s when I saw it: a tube of crimson lipstick lying on the counter.
I picked it up, holding it in front of him as he approached hesitantly. “Whose is this?”
Greg’s face turned pale. “Uh… it’s yours?”
An angry woman holding her lipstick | Source: Midjourney
“Don’t insult me,” I snapped. “You know I don’t wear this color.”
Before he could respond, a muffled sneeze came from the bedroom.
My breath caught. I looked at Greg, who was visibly sweating now.
“Care to explain that?” I asked, my voice icy.
A couple arguing in their home | Source: Pexels
He stammered, “It’s nothing. Really. I swear…”
I didn’t wait to hear the rest. With my heart racing, I headed for the bedroom.
Greg scrambled behind me, his voice rang out, desperate. “Wait, don’t!”
Ignoring him, I flung the closet door open.
An angry woman opening her closet | Source: Midjourney
A woman crouched there, clutching a pair of high heels to her chest. She looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Her hair was mussed, and she was wearing a silk robe that I instantly recognized as mine.
I stared at her, my mind reeling. “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.
An angry woman shouting at her husband’s mistress | Source: Midjourney
She stood up slowly, her face flushing red. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, brushing at the robe like that would somehow make everything better.
Greg stepped into the room, his hands raised like he was trying to calm a wild animal. “Honey, please, let me explain.”
An apologetic man holding his hands up | Source: Freepik
I turned on him, the fury rising in my chest. “Explain? Explain what, Greg? That there’s a strange woman hiding in our bedroom? Wearing my robe?” I gestured to the woman, who was now fidgeting awkwardly.
“Listen, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” the woman said weakly.
A shocked woman sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney
“Find out what?” I snapped, my voice shaking. “That my husband is a lying cheat? That he brings his little girlfriend here when I’m at work? Don’t try to defend him!”
“Babe, please, don’t do this,” Greg begged, stepping closer to me.
“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,'” I hissed, stepping back. “You think you can sweet-talk your way out of this? Pack your things and go. Now. Both of you.”
An angry woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney
The woman looked at Greg, wide-eyed. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home.”
My stomach churned at her words, but I refused to let the tears fall. I turned back to Greg. “Get her out of my house. And don’t bother coming back.”
Greg held his hands up in surrender. “Just give me a chance to explain—”
“Leave!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls.
A woman shouting in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney
The woman grabbed her shoes and scurried out of the room. Greg hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening as if to argue. But when he saw the look on my face, he seemed to think better of it.
He left without another word, following her out the front door.
I stood in the middle of the bedroom, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me. For a moment, I felt numb. But then something shifted.
A sad woman in the middle of her living room | Source: Midjourney
This was my house. My life. And I wasn’t going to let Greg taint it any longer.
I grabbed a box from the garage and started packing his things. His clothes, his toiletries, even the stupid coffee mug he loved went into the box. I worked quickly, methodically, not letting myself dwell on the memories tied to each item.
As I was finishing up, I called my brother. “Can you come over?” I asked, my voice steady but tired.
A tired woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels
“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What’s going on?”
“Greg’s gone,” I said simply.
My brother arrived half an hour later, his presence a welcome relief. He didn’t ask many questions, just hugged me and helped me carry Greg’s belongings to the front door.
By the time Greg returned the next night, I was ready.
A nervous man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney
He walked in, looking sheepish and hopeful. “Can we talk?” he asked softly.
I pointed to the pile of his belongings by the door. “No, Greg. We’re done.”
“Please, just hear me out—”
“I don’t want to hear it,” I said firmly. “Take your things and go.”
An angry woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney
He stood there for a moment, as if he thought I might change my mind. When I didn’t, he sighed, grabbed his things, and walked out the door for the last time.
The next day, I filed for divorce. It felt strange, almost surreal, but also like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
Divorce papers on the table | Source: Pexels
Over the next few months, I started to reclaim my life. I redecorated the house, filling it with things that made me happy. I spent time with friends and family, people who reminded me of who I was before Greg came along.
It wasn’t easy. There were moments when I felt angry, hurt, and lonely. But each day, I felt a little lighter. A little freer.
A woman looking out of her window | Source: Pexels
One evening, as I sat in my newly redecorated living room, I looked around and realized something: I was happy. Truly happy.
Greg’s betrayal had been painful, but it had also been a wake-up call. I had spent so much time trying to make our marriage work that I’d forgotten my own worth. Now, I was finally putting myself first.
A tired woman in her office | Source: Pexels
As I closed the chapter on my marriage, I felt hopeful for the future. Whatever came next, I knew I was strong enough to face it.
Liked this story? Consider checking out this one: When a charming stranger knocked on my door, mistaking me for the cleaning lady, I decided to play along. But what began as an amusing misunderstanding quickly unraveled into a shocking revelation.
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.
Dad Grows Suspicious After Noticing His Daughter Lingers on the School Bus Longer Than Other Kids — Story of the Day
A father worried about why his daughter often remained behind in the school bus after others left, so he decided to find answers. What he found was not what he expected.
Benjamin Bruce was a single dad who had to step in to become his child’s mother after she passed away. Their daughter, Emily, had been six when it happened.
Ben loved his daughter because, to him, she was all that was left of his beloved wife, and he had also promised her that Emily would be well taken care of no matter what.
To that end, Ben tried his best to juggle work while being present in his daughter’s life. He had no other family he trusted to look after her, so he had to do everything himself.
The first couple of years were rough on him as a parent, and just as he was acclimatizing to the rollercoaster, his daughter hit puberty, and at that point, things got wilder.
She suddenly started going through physical changes right before his eyes, and he knew what they meant — the boys would be coming for her. How could they not; his daughter had his late wife’s red hair and deep green eyes that seemed designed to mesmerize.
Even Ben was not immune to her eyes and had fallen prey to her will multiple times over the years. When she clocked 12, two years after she hit puberty, Emily discovered boys.
That led to her paying a lot of attention to her hair and appearance because she wanted to look good for her school crush. Ben was prepared to beat back boys with a stick if need be, but what he was not ready for was caring for his daughter’s looks.
Emily had to do that herself, but she was terrible at it with no role model to learn from. Ben often just cut her hair short as a child because he knew nothing about hair care, but he had to respect her wishes to keep her hair longer as she grew older.
There was little he would not do for his child, so to help her, he started brushing her hair when it was long enough. He was a big man, and even though he tried to be gentle, he occasionally pulled it out.
“Ouch!!!!” she yelled one day.
“I’m sorry baby,” he apologized quickly, as he always did.
“You need to be more gentle daddy,” she would admonish him sometimes.
Other times, she just endured the pain because she did not want to make her father feel terrible for causing it. Ben felt the sting of his failure each time his daughter complained of her hair getting pulled out, and that made him try to cut her hair again.
“Just get rid of it all,” he would say when they argued about it sometimes. “Your mom kept her hair cropped short and she still looked wonderful.”
“Daddy, I will no longer cut my hair, look how slow its growth is because of how often you cut it in the past,” she would shoot back. In any case, Ben never won the arguments, but he didn’t need to; they stopped coming up after a short while.
Shortly after that, he noticed that his daughter started getting tardy notices from her class teacher, Mrs. Flynn. So he called the woman to find out.
“That’s right, Mr. Bruce. Your daughter has five tardy notices this week alone. Is there anything going on I should know about?” the woman asked him.
“Nothing is going on. Things have been great at home for some time now and I do release her to join the bus early so I’m sure she makes it to school when others do,” he explained.
“Did you notice anything going on with her this past week?” Ben asked.
“Well, I was running late for class once and I saw her alight from the bus rather late even though she should have been in class by that time. The driver probably knows something about it because only they can access the bus at any time.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Flynn, I’ll get to the bottom of this,” Ben told her before ending the call.
Worried about why his daughter was spending extra time on a bus, Ben followed her the next day. True to what Mrs. Flynn told him, he noticed that everyone on the bus alighted when it arrived on the school grounds — everyone but his daughter.
As soon as he could, Ben burst into the bus in a rush thinking the worst but was instead met with the scene of a nice 40-year-old woman combing his daughter’s hair. The woman, Madeline, was the bus driver.
“Mr. Bruce?” the woman exclaimed at his sudden entry as Emily looked up, surprised to see her father.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
“Hello ma’am,” Ben said after clearing his throat and righting himself. “Sorry about barging in, but I heard my daughter was getting tardy notices so I came to see why.”
“Oh, well in that case, here’s why,” the woman said, gesturing to his daughter’s hair. “I noticed how she seemed to struggle with her hair so I offered to help her brush it every day before she goes to class because she says her rough hair often makes her feel bad.”
“Honey,” Ben said to his daughter. “You never told me this.”
“I just didn’t want you to worry about it,” Emily defended.
Later that day, Ben invited Madeline for coffee. When the bus driver heard about what happened to his wife, she started to cry.
She herself was a cancer survivor, and she was well aware of how lucky she was to have pulled through and was grateful that she could still be there for her own children.
Madeline was convinced she survived for the kids on the bus who needed somebody to talk to or do their hair or whatever, so she begged Ben to find a compromise that would help his daughter.
To that end, Ben spoke to Mrs. Flynn, her teacher, and after explaining things to the woman, Emily was never given a tardy notice again. Ben was grateful to Madeline, and he remained close friends with her for a long time.
What did we learn from this story?
Never jump to conclusions. Ben gave himself a fright when he immediately assumed something sinful was happening between the bus driver and his child, and if he had not taken the pains to confirm it, things might have taken a terrible turn.
Give back when you can. Madeline believed he was spared from death to take care of other kids, and that was what she did. Caring for those kids was her way of giving back, and it left her feeling fulfilled, especially since she was able to touch lives like Emily’s and Ben’s.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
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