For months, I watched my wife receive mysterious letters, only to burn them without a word. When I couldn’t stand the secrecy any longer, I decided to take matters into my own hands. What I discovered in one of those letters would shatter everything I thought I knew about her.
Why do people love children so much? That thought ran through my head every time I left work and saw kids playing on the playground.
Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t hate kids. I was happy for those who had them, but I just wasn’t that kind of person and didn’t get all the fuss around the topic of children.
I was lucky that my wife, Natalie, didn’t want kids either, and we decided to dedicate our whole lives to ourselves.
Sometimes, it seemed like Natalie and I had the perfect marriage, but there were moments that reminded me it wasn’t that simple.
Natalie had always been very secretive. I noticed it when we first met, and even after a year of living together, I still felt like she was hiding something from me. Actually, I knew for sure she was hiding something.
I parked the car in the garage, quietly entered the house, and peeked into the living room.
Natalie was there again, doing the thing she never talked about and I never dared to ask about, fearing what I might hear.
Every week, Natalie received a letter. I didn’t know who they were from or what was in them.
She never left them around. She burned every single letter in our fireplace, thinking I didn’t know, that I hadn’t noticed.
But that day, everything changed. I accidentally knocked the coffee table, and Natalie was startled, turning towards the sound.
“Oh my god, Ryan! You scared me!” she said. I realized it was finally time to find out everything. “What are you doing?” I asked.
“Nothing, just sitting by the fire,” Natalie said.
“I know you’re burning letters,” I said, and I saw the fear in her face.
“Yeah, why keep junk mail at home? It’s easier to burn it and light the fire,” she said, her face now calm and collected.
“Really? Every week, one letter?” I asked.
“Are you accusing me of something?” Natalie asked.
“Are you cheating on me?” I asked bluntly.
“What? Do you really think that if I was cheating, I’d be writing letters to someone? In the 21st century?” Natalie asked, mockingly.
“What else am I supposed to think? You don’t tell me anything, you’re hiding something,” I said.
“How about trusting me?” she asked.
“I don’t want to become the idiot whose wife was cheating right under his nose,” I said.
“You won’t,” Natalie said, placing her hands on my shoulders and then kissing me.
I tried, I really tried to forget about those letters and just trust Natalie, but the thought that she might be cheating on me wouldn’t let me rest. I couldn’t be with a woman who didn’t want to be mine.
So, I decided to do what I’d been avoiding for so long. I knew that every Wednesday, she would get a letter, and she’d manage to grab it before I came home. So, I decided to intercept it before she did.
In the morning, I pretended I was going to work, but I parked nearby to keep an eye on things.
I waited, half an hour, an hour, two hours, and finally, the mailman dropped the mail into our mailbox.
I quickly got out of the car and opened the mailbox. Among the bills and advertisements, I found that letter.
It didn’t have a return address. I slipped it into my pocket, returned the rest into the mailbox, and went back to the car.
I sat there for a long time, not daring to open the letter. I knew it was wrong, that I was destroying the trust in our relationship.
But I couldn’t help it. I had to know what was inside. I finally tore open the envelope and pulled out a small note.
If you don’t want your husband to find out, come to the park by the fountain tomorrow at 2 p.m. and bring $10,000. If you don’t show up, I’ll tell him everything. I have a copy of every letter.
This wasn’t at all what I expected. Someone was blackmailing my wife, and this person knew about the letters, knew the truth.
I decided not to tell Natalie anything and go to the park myself to find out everything she’s been hiding for so long.
That evening, I came home as usual. Natalie was sitting at the kitchen table, looking worried. Spread out before her was the mail.
“Hey, is this all the mail?” Natalie asked.
“I don’t know, you grabbed it,” I said.
“Yeah, you’re right, sorry,” she replied.
She looked so upset and still didn’t want to talk to me about the letters, to tell me the whole truth, that there was someone she truly loved, and it was obvious that it wasn’t me.
The next day, at 2 p.m., I stood in the park by the fountain, watching for someone who might be the blackmailer, though I had no idea what blackmailers looked like. I’d only ever seen them in movies.
I imagined some guy in a cap and glasses, but no one like that was around. Instead, there was a man who looked just like everyone else, but he was circling the fountain, walking in loops.
At 2:30p.m., he looked irritated and was on the phone with someone. I listened to what he was saying.
“Where are you, Natalie? Damn it! Do you want your rich husband to find out everything?” the man said into the phone.
I no longer had any doubts. This was definitely the blackmailer. I calmly approached him, holding the bag with the money in my hand.
“Hey, I’m Natalie’s husband,” I said, and I saw the fear flicker across his face. “I’m not that rich, but I’m willing to pay if you’ll tell me the whole truth. What’s in these letters Natalie gets? Who are they from? How long has she been seeing this guy? If it’s you, I promise I won’t touch you.”
The man snorted. “I don’t care who pays, as long as I get the money. My name’s Michael. I’m Natalie’s ex-husband,” he said.
“Natalie didn’t have a husband,” I said.
“Well, we weren’t officially married, but we lived together like we were,” Michael said.
“She never mentioned that,” I said.
“Of course not. she was afraid you’d leave her,” Michael said.
“Why would I leave her if she had an ex?” I asked, confused.
“Because the letters you think are from a lover aren’t from a lover at all,” Michael said.
“Then who are they from?” I asked.
“Let’s go to my car. I’ll show you everything,” Michael said.
We went to his car, and Michael handed me all the copies of the letters Natalie had received.
I was so shocked I couldn’t say a word. I just took the letters, gave Michael the money, and drove home.
My hands were shaking the whole way home. The letters lay on the passenger seat, feeling like the heaviest burden I’d ever carried.
I couldn’t believe Natalie had been hiding this from me, that she’d pretended everything was fine, smiled at me, lied that she shared the same views on life as I did.
I parked near the house, grabbed the letters, and went inside. Natalie was sitting on the couch, looking like she’d been crying.
I threw the letters down in front of her. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a child?!” I yelled.
Natalie looked frightened, first at me, then at the child’s drawings with the words “Me and Mom” and the pictures of a little girl.
“Where did you get this?” she asked.
“How could you keep this from me? How could you look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t want kids when you already had a daughter?” I screamed.
“Ryan, where did you get this?” Natalie asked.
“I lied. Yesterday, a letter came for you, but I intercepted it. It had threats, saying if you didn’t pay $10,000, I’d find out everything. I decided to pay myself and find out everything,” I said.
“You saw Michael?” Natalie asked.
“Yes. But that’s not as important as the fact that you lied to me!” I yelled.
“I didn’t lie! I really don’t want any more kids! Because my child was taken from me, and I didn’t want that to happen again!” Natalie screamed.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“Didn’t Michael tell you everything? Sounds like him,” Natalie said. “We had a toxic relationship, and when I finally decided to leave… Michael took full custody of Katie. I had no home, no job, so it was easy for him to do it. He thought I’d stay.”
“Oh, and the child… Katie, is she safe?” I asked.
“Yes, he’s a very good father, and his mom helps him. But all I have left are letters from Katie and photos Michael sends,” Natalie said.
“Why didn’t you tell me anything? Why keep quiet all this time?” I asked.
“Because you didn’t want kids, and I love you, Ryan, and I was afraid you’d leave me if you found out,” Natalie said.
“I can’t believe you kept this from me for so long,” I said.
“What else was I supposed to do? And the fact that you found out behind my back isn’t really great!” Natalie snapped.
“I wouldn’t have done this if you’d told me everything!” I yelled.
“You would’ve left me the minute I told you!” Natalie screamed.
I stayed silent for a long time, thinking about what to do next, what would be the right thing to do, before I finally said, “I want to meet Katie.”
“That’s impossible, Michael won’t let me see her. I can only be with her if I’m with him,” Natalie said.
“We’ll hire a lawyer, and you’ll see your daughter, and then we’ll take her,” I said.
“What?” Natalie asked, shocked. “You don’t like kids, you never wanted them, and now you’re saying you want a child living with us, and not even your own?”
“But she’s yours. I love you, Natalie, and Katie is part of you, so I’m sure I’ll love her too,” I said.
Natalie stared into my eyes for a few seconds, probably trying to figure out if I was serious.
Then she threw herself into my arms and started crying. She cried harder than I had ever seen her cry before, and I just held her tightly, trying to comfort her.
A week later, Natalie and I, along with our lawyer, stood in front of Michael’s door.
“What do you want?” Michael asked grumpily when he saw us.
“There’s a custody hearing tomorrow at 11. I insist that you be there,” our lawyer said.
“What hearing?” Michael asked, and the lawyer started to respond, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
A little girl ran out onto the street, looking almost exactly like Natalie. “Mom!” she yelled and ran into Natalie’s arms.
Natalie hugged Katie, smiling and crying at the same time, kissing her daughter. I watched this, and at that moment, I realized I would love this little girl just as much as her mother.