When I Got Home Early from Work, My Husband Offered to Give Me a Foot Massage – It Felt Suspicious, and I Was Right

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

At Husband’s Funeral Wife Meets a Woman with His Baby in Her Arms – Story of the Day

Nancy’s life is turned upside down at her husband’s funeral when she encounters an older woman holding a baby. The woman claims the child she is carrying is Nancy’s late husband’s. Is she lying? Or do more shocking revelations await Nancy?

Nancy looked at the final traces of her husband’s funeral service. She couldn’t believe Patrick was gone. He had died in a car accident. It had been a week, but she could still feel him around her. How could he be dead?

With a heavy heart, she headed toward the cemetery’s exit, telling herself she had to start figuring out the rest of her life.

Suddenly, an older woman with a baby blocked her path.

“Are you Nancy?” the woman asked while the baby in her arms cried.

Nancy didn’t recognize her. Who was she?

“I am. Who are you?” Nancy replied.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Nancy’s heart wasn’t ready when the woman, Amanda, revealed the baby in her arms was Patrick’s child.

“Only you can look after this child now,” she told Nancy. “Her mother can’t provide for her.”

A shiver ran down Nancy’s spine. She stared at the baby and backed away.

“No, it can’t be! Patrick was a loving husband. He would never do this to me!”

Nancy turned around and left. She would never doubt Patrick.

“Watch out!”

Nancy bumped into one of Patrick’s old friends, Mike. She was too lost in her thoughts to notice where she was heading.

Mike started chatting with her, offering his condolences. Nancy didn’t want to talk to anyone, but she had to be courteous. She finished the conversation as soon as she could and headed to her car.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

The baby’s thoughts replayed in her mind, but she dismissed them. However, as Nancy opened her car door, she was shocked. The same baby lay in her back seat, crying.

Nancy looked around. Amanda was nowhere to be seen. “How did this baby even get here?” she wondered.

It was cold, so Nancy removed her jacket and began wrapping it around the little one.

But she froze when she noticed a birthmark on the baby’s neck. “It can’t be,” she muttered to herself.

The birthmark was exactly like Patrick’s. Nancy didn’t want to suspect her late husband of cheating. But now, she needed the truth. She needed to know if Patrick had been unfaithful to her.

Nancy drove home with the baby, took Patrick’s hair strands from his hairbrush, and went to a hospital.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

“Hello, I’d like to get a paternity test done,” she told the receptionist at the counter.

“OK, ma’am. Normally, it takes a few days to get the results,” the woman said.

“Can it be done quicker?” Nancy asked. “I’ll pay extra.”

“Well, we do have expedited service. Let me see what I can do. But it will cost you more.”

“I’ll take it,” Nancy replied. She submitted Patrick’s samples and paid for the test.

Sitting in the hallway, she was awaiting the results when the baby started crying. Nancy sniffed the baby’s clothes. Her diaper didn’t need a change.

Nancy guessed she must have been hungry. There was still time before the results came in, so she drove to a supermarket and bought baby formula, bottles, and a few diapers — just in case she needed them.

She returned to the hallway and sat there, feeding the formula to the baby. After what seemed like an eternity, a nurse approached her with the results.

The woman handed her an envelope and walked away.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

For illustration purposes only | Source: Unsplash

“This is the truth, and I’ll have to accept it whether I like it or not,” Nancy thought as she opened the results.

Her head seemed to spin when she read the words, “Paternity rate – 99%.”

Nancy looked at the sleeping baby in her arms and swallowed the tears in her eyes. Patrick had cheated on her and kept her in the dark.

Nancy decided she would not live with the proof of his infidelity forever. She would find the baby’s mother and give the baby back to her.

Pulling herself together, Nancy drove home and began going through Patrick’s things. But she didn’t find anything that could point her to his lover. She moved to his office next, searching his drawers, files, and cabinets. But nothing.

Nancy sighed. The baby was asleep in the living room. Grabbing the baby monitor, she headed to Patrick’s car. She searched under the seats, in the glove compartment, and in all the nooks and crannies of the vehicle. But she didn’t find anything significant.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Nancy sank into the driver’s seat when her eyes landed on the GPS. And it was then it hit her. Patrick was terrible at directions and always used the navigator. If he had ever visited his mistress’ house, that is where she would find her address.

Nancy went straight to recent destinations on the navigator. The list wasn’t long, mostly familiar places: local restaurants, the hardware store, and Patrick’s office. But then, one address caught her eye—it appeared more frequently than others, and she didn’t recognize it.

“This is it,” she thought. She took the baby with her and drove to the address.

***

Arriving there, Nancy found herself in front of a modest house. She scooped the baby in her arms, walked to the front door, and knocked.

“Hello? Anyone home?” she asked.

After the tenth knock, when nobody answered the door, Nancy concluded the house was empty. She looked around and decided to approach the neighbors. She started with the house next door and rang the doorbell.

The door opened with a creak, and Nancy’s eyes widened when Amanda stepped out.

“You?” Nancy asked.

“How…how did you find me?” Amanda stuttered.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

“I was trying to find my husband’s…” Nancy paused. “His other woman. I wanted to return her baby.”

A strange sadness flashed across Amanda’s face. “The woman who lived next door… died a few days ago. She had a heart attack when she learned about your husband’s accident. Emma is no more.”

“Wait…did you say Emma?” Nancy asked, shocked.

“Yes,” Amanda nodded. “Did you know her?”

“Was…Was her last name Warren?”

When Amanda nodded, Nancy hung her head in shame. “Can-Can I come inside?” she asked. “There’s something I’d like to tell you. I feel I could use some talk.”

Amanda opened the door wider for her, and Nancy stepped inside. They settled in the living room. “Emma was my classmate,” Nancy began recounting her past. “She was also my friend. But I wronged her and…Patrick…”

20 years ago…

Nancy and Patrick were in their school’s hallway. She was standing next to her locker when Patrick approached her.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

“Hey, Nancy,” he said quietly, and she looked at him.

“I…I need to tell you something,” Patrick added anxiously.

“Hey,” she smiled. “Yes?”

“I…I’m in love with someone else, Nancy,” he confessed. “I know you’ve been really kind and everything, but I’m sorry.”

Nancy was shocked. “Tell me it’s a joke, Patrick,” she cried. “You can’t be serious!”

But Patrick was serious. Patrick was head over heels in love with Emma, and Emma loved him, too.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Nancy was so distraught that day that she returned home in tears.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Her mother immediately sensed something had happened at school.

Nancy sobbed as she told her how Patrick had broken up with her.

“I want to break them up!” she yelled. “I won’t let them be together!”

“Nancy, you won’t be able to create your own happiness by destroying someone else’s,” her mother advised her. “Revenge is never an option. Forget about him.”

But Nancy was fueled with the desire for revenge.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

In the next few days, Nancy tried everything she could to drive Patrick and Emma apart—she spread silly rumors, planned coincidental run-ins where she’d flaunt newfound confidence, and even stooped to sending anonymous notes, trying to stir up jealousy.

However, nothing worked. Emma seemed happy, wrapped up in her and Patrick’s world and Nancy was left on the outside, her plans crumbling uselessly around her.

But Nancy wasn’t the one to give up. One night, she had the perfect idea to drive a wedge between Emma and Patrick.

“Hello, Nancy, how are you?” Nancy visited Patrick, and the door was answered by this mother.

“I’m fine, Mrs. White. Is Patrick home?”

“Yes, dear. Let me get him.”

Patrick was confused to see her on his doorstep. “Nancy? What’s going on?”

“I know this will come as a shock to you, Patrick, but…I’m-I’m pregnant!” she announced.

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

Patrick was shocked and terrified. “What…but…Are you sure?”

When she nodded, Patrick invited her inside. She told him she hadn’t told her parents yet because she was scared. Nancy said her father would definitely be against it and force her to terminate the pregnancy. So she begged Patrick not to tell anyone about it and noticed how easily he succumbed to her lie.

Patrick was a responsible guy. Nancy knew that. He held her hands and said, “I’m the child’s father, so I’ll take the responsibility for our baby. And yes, don’t worry; this will stay between us.”

Present-day…

“I used him. I lied to him. I wasn’t pregnant,” Nancy told Amanda. “I was hurt, and I couldn’t stand losing him to Emma. So I told him a lie that changed everything. He was ready to step up, leave Emma, and be…a father.”

“Lies ruin everything, dear,” Amanda shook her head. “And what after that? Did he never find out the truth?”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

“He didn’t,” Nancy revealed. “I kept up the act, the morning sickness, the whole thing. But after a couple of months, I…I couldn’t carry on with it. So, I told him there was a mistake with the test and that the doctor was wrong. And by then, Emma had…moved. She was heartbroken and had left town with her parents. Patrick and I stayed together. He never went back to her, never tried to find her. We just moved on. Or pretended to…” Nancy added, looking at the sleeping baby in her arms. Now she knew Patrick had returned to Emma.

“And I guess it’s time to correct what I couldn’t back then,” Nancy said and rose to her feet.

She was leaving Amanda’s house with the baby when the older woman stopped her.

“What are you going to do with the baby?” Amanda asked.

Nancy turned around and smiled at Amanda. “I will raise her as my own child. Maybe that’ll help me seek forgiveness from Patrick and Emma.”

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

For illustration purposes only | Source: Shutterstock

And Nancy followed through on her words. She raised baby Catherine with love. When Catherine turned 16, Nancy told her everything about her past. She was expecting Catherine to hate her. And she was prepared for it.

But Catherine smiled and said, “Nothing changes how I feel about you, Mom. You raised me. You were there for every scraped knee, every fever, every heartbreak. You’re my mom in every way that counts.”

Nancy cried silently and hugged her daughter. Catherine’s words had not only relieved her heart, but they’d also made her believe that Emma and Patrick had forgiven her.

Tell us what you think about this story, and share it with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed reading this story, you might like this one about a gang who mocked a plus-size woman at a beach. Little did they know she would teach them an unforgettable lesson.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life.

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