I always dreamed of becoming a mother, and finally, my dream was coming true. But the joy of expecting a child was overshadowed by my husband’s unexpected business trip and the arrival of a stranger who turned out to be connected to my past.
My husband David and I had been preparing and planning for a child for a long time, but for many years, nothing worked out. We had tried everything we could think of, and the constant disappointment was heartbreaking.
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But eight months ago, everything changed. I finally saw those coveted two lines on the pregnancy test. This pregnancy was the best thing that had ever happened to me.
The joy I felt was indescribable. I knew I would never abandon this child as someone once did to me. Even though I was adopted when I was a year old, and my adoptive parents were wonderful, learning that I was adopted broke me at the time.
It felt like a part of my identity was missing. But now, I was eagerly awaiting our baby, ready to give them all the love I had received and more.
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David and I decided to have a partner birth, so I knew it would be a special moment for both of us.
One evening, when David returned from work, he looked very tired and worried. I tried to find out what had happened, but he only responded that everything was fine.
We had dinner in silence, and I felt he wasn’t telling me something. The tension in the air was thick, and I could see he was struggling with something.
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“David, please talk to me. It’s hard for me to see you like this,” I said, my voice soft but insistent.
David sighed heavily and rubbed his nose, looking down at the floor. “Alright,” he began slowly. “I’ve been sent on a business trip in ten days. I’ll be paid very well for it, and I thought it was a good opportunity since the baby is coming soon.”
“That’s great. Why do you look so sad then?” I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.
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“Because they don’t know how long they’ll need me there. They said to expect anywhere from two weeks to a month,” David said, his voice strained.
“But the birth could happen during that time,” I said, placing a hand on my stomach, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me.
“I know. That’s why I’m in this state,” David replied, his eyes filled with worry.
“Then refuse,” I suggested, trying to keep my voice steady.
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“I can’t. It will affect my future work, and we could use the extra money,” he explained, frustration evident in his tone.
“But you might not be there for the birth,” I said, my voice breaking slightly.
David got up and came over to me, hugging me tightly. “That’s why I found a doula for you. I want you to have support while I’m away,” he said, his voice gentle.
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“I want to give birth with my husband, not some stranger,” I said, dissatisfied.
“I know. But Martha is very good, and many people recommended her to me,” he tried to reassure me.
“I don’t like this idea,” I said, shaking my head.
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“I’ll try to return as soon as possible, but I want us to have some backup. Let me arrange a meeting with her while I’m still here. If you don’t like her, we’ll look for other options,” he offered, trying to find a compromise.
“I don’t want other options. I want you to be with me,” I insisted, feeling tears well up in my eyes.
“I want to be with you and the baby too,” David said, placing his hand on my belly. “That’s why I feel awful about having to leave. But we’ll get through this, and I hope to be back before you start giving birth, okay?”
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“Okay,” I said softly.
That evening, we just lay together, hugging, as if not wanting to let each other go for even a moment. The fear of him not being there for the birth was heavy in my heart, but I knew we had to face this together, even if it meant being apart for a little while.
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Two days after that conversation with David, I was on my way to meet the doula, Martha. To be honest, I wasn’t very positive about this meeting because I didn’t fully understand how a stranger could support me during such an important moment.
I parked near the café where Martha and I had agreed to meet and went inside. The café was warm and inviting, with the rich smell of coffee filling the air. I looked around, not knowing which of the people there was Martha.
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Suddenly, a woman sitting alone at a table waved at me, and I realized it was her. She looked older than I expected, around 50, with kind eyes and a gentle smile. I approached and sat at the table.
“Hi! I’m Martha, and you must be Sheila,” she said, her smile warm and inviting.
“Yes, but how did you know it was me?” I asked, a bit surprised.
“You looked confused… and pregnant,” she added with a gentle laugh.
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“Right, I just feel like this belly has always been with me,” I said, laughing too.
“I understand, but believe me, you’ll feel such relief when it’s gone,” Martha said, nodding.
“I can only imagine,” I replied, trying to picture that moment.
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Martha and I talked for two hours. She explained what her work would involve and how she could help me. She spoke about different techniques for pain management, relaxation, and support during labor.
I described how I envisioned the process, emphasizing the importance of a calm and supportive environment. It turned out our views were very similar, and we immediately found common ground.
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Martha’s experience and empathy reassured me, and I was grateful to David for coming up with this idea.
As the conversation was ending, Martha asked, “Do you have any more questions for me?”
“Yes, I don’t want to be tactless, but do you have children?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward.
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“No, I decided to dedicate my life to medical school and then to working in this field, but now I’m here,” Martha said, smiling. “But I have given birth,” she added softly.
“Oh…” I said, sensing it might have been something very personal and possibly traumatic for her.
We stood up from the table, and Martha came over to hug me goodbye. As she hugged me, I noticed her looking at the large birthmark on my shoulder.
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“In my teenage years, I thought about removing it because I didn’t like it, but now I consider it my unique feature,” I said, trying to make light of it. Martha looked at me, puzzled. “I’m talking about the birthmark,” I added for clarity.
“Oh, yes. It’s very nice,” Martha said, rushing off. I didn’t understand her behavior but decided to ignore it. Maybe she remembered she was late for something.
As I left the café, I felt a mix of relief and curiosity, wondering more about this woman who would be by my side during such an important moment.
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Time passed, and my due date was approaching. It was hard without David during this period, but Martha was very supportive. She visited almost every day and even helped with household chores.
Her presence was comforting, and she always knew how to calm my nerves. I felt like Martha understood me like no one else. It was as if we were related, and I couldn’t shake that feeling.
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David was supposed to fly back home that day, and I just hoped he would make it before our baby started to arrive. Martha and I were checking my hospital bag, probably for the tenth time, due to my anxiety.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure everything you need is there. If anything is missing, I’ll definitely bring it,” Martha said, her voice calm and reassuring.
“I know, I just want everything to go perfectly,” I replied, trying to hide my anxiety.
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“Oh, dear. This is childbirth; it can’t be perfect. But your baby will be, and that’s what matters,” she said, smiling.
“Thank you, Martha,” I said, feeling a bit better. I went to the kitchen to pour myself some cold juice. As I approached the fridge, I felt something was wrong. I realized my water bag had broken. I immediately went to Martha.
“My water broke,” I said, panicking, my voice trembling.
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“Quick, sit down,” Martha said, helping me to the couch. Within seconds, I felt the first contraction and screamed.
“Breathe, remember how I taught you to breathe,” Martha said. But the pain was too intense for me to think clearly. “Breathe, Amber, breathe,” she said, and it snapped me out of my panic.
“What did you call me?” I asked, confused.
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“I meant Sheila, sorry, I made a mistake,” Martha said quickly. “But you need to focus on your breathing now.”
“When I was born, they named me Amber. But my mother abandoned me, and my adoptive parents renamed me when I was a year old, right after they adopted me. Don’t tell me this is a coincidence,” I pressed her, my heart racing.
“Sheila, it truly is just a coincidence,” Martha said, her face serious.
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“What happened to the baby? You said you gave birth but have no children. What happened to that baby?” I asked, my voice rising.
“I gave her up for adoption,” Martha answered quietly.
“It was me, wasn’t it? I felt something was off. I noticed we were too similar,” I said, my voice shaking.
“Sheila, you need to focus on your baby now,” Martha said, trying to keep me calm.
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“It was me?!” I shouted, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.
“Yes,” Martha admitted.
“And how long have you known?” I demanded.
“Since our first meeting when I saw your birthmark,” Martha said, her eyes filled with regret.
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“I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me all this time!” I cried, feeling betrayed.
“Sheila, I wanted to do the right thing,” she said, her voice breaking.
“It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you,” I said, struggling to get up from the couch, grabbing my hospital bag, and heading to the car.
“What are you doing?” Martha shouted after me.
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“I’m driving myself to the hospital, and you can leave. I don’t want to see you,” I replied.
“That’s dangerous!” she shouted, but I ignored her. The contractions were coming fast, but I couldn’t think about anything other than getting to the hospital and being away from Martha.
I got into the car, feeling intense contractions but trying to drive anyway. The pain was overwhelming, making it hard to focus on the road. The drive to the hospital felt endless, each bump and turn amplifying the agony.
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I kept trying to call David, but he wasn’t answering his phone. He was probably still on the plane. I prayed he would make it in time.
When I finally reached the hospital, nurses surrounded me with concern. They asked me many questions I couldn’t answer in my state. They quickly put me in a room, and a doctor told me I would give birth within two hours.
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My labor was progressing rapidly. David still hadn’t called me back, and the worry added to my pain. My whole body was in agony, and I felt like I couldn’t bear it any longer.
Suddenly, I saw the door to the room open, and Martha walked in.
“I don’t want to see you!” I screamed, my voice filled with pain and anger.
Martha calmly approached me. “I called David. He was leaving the airport and should be on his way here,” she said. “I know you’re angry, but I can help you until David arrives.”
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“I don’t need anything from you!” I shouted, but then another contraction began, making me cry out in pain. Martha breathed with me and applied a cold compress to my head.
I decided to stop arguing. I really needed support, even if it was from the woman who had abandoned me and then lied. An hour later, the pushing began, and the doctor said it was time to give birth.
“I don’t want to give birth without David!” I cried. “He should be here soon.”
“Sweetheart, the baby is the priority now, and we can’t delay,” Martha said gently.
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“No! I want my husband by my side!” I pleaded, but they didn’t listen. The doctor and nurses gathered around me. “Please, wait for David!”
Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and a breathless David walked in. “It’s okay, I’m here,” he said, taking my hand. Relief washed over me as I felt his strong grip.
David and Martha supported and helped me as much as they could. Martha held my hand and reminded me to breathe while David stayed by my side, encouraging me.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, my daughter was born. It was the best and happiest moment of my life. Her first cry filled the room, and tears of joy streamed down my face.
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A few hours after the birth, Martha came to me. David was asleep in a chair, holding our daughter.
“I’m sorry for abandoning you and lying, but—” Martha began, her voice soft and filled with regret.
I interrupted her, “I don’t want to talk about this now. But we will discuss it later, and you will explain everything to me.”
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I didn’t want to spoil this day with unpleasant conversations. Martha nodded sadly and was about to leave the room.
“Can you bring me some cold juice? I didn’t get to drink it,” I asked her, trying to keep things light.
Martha smiled. “Of course,” she said and left the room. As I watched her go, I thought that now that I was a mother myself, maybe I could understand why she did what she did.
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An Air Vent Cover in the Bathroom Fell Off — I Tried to Fix It Without Waiting for My Husband, but Discovered His Secret Instead
When Ruth’s bathroom vent cover falls off, she thinks it’s a quick fix — until her husband’s panicked text warns her to stay away. Suspicious and unable to resist, she peers inside. What she finds shatters her trust and sets the stage for a shocking revelation.
A week ago, I nearly divorced the love of my life. It all started with an air vent cover in our bathroom, and the strange items my husband had hidden behind it.
A man glancing over his shoulder suspiciously while entering a bathroom | Source: Midjourney
Roger was out of town helping his mom recover from surgery.
I was just having a relaxing Saturday afternoon, lounging on the couch in my comfy pants. I was scrolling through my phone and thinking about ordering takeout when I heard this weird clatter from the bathroom.
When I went to check it out, I discovered the air vent cover had fallen right off the wall. Typical, right? The one weekend my handy husband is away, something breaks.
A woman standing in a bathroom holding an air vent cover | Source: Midjourney
I figured I could handle a simple repair job myself. I mean, how hard could it be to screw a vent cover back on? So I texted Roger to ask which tools I’d need.
What happened next still gives me chills when I think about it.
His response came back almost instantly: “NO! Don’t you dare touch that vent or look inside it. Never.”
I stared at my phone, reading the message over and over, my heart starting to race.
A woman staring at her phone with a concerned frown | Source: Midjourney
Let me tell you something about my husband: in our ten years of marriage, Roger had never spoken to me like that. Not once.
He was always gentle, always patient, even when I accidentally shrunk his favorite sweater in the dryer or backed into his car in the driveway. This forceful tone set off all kinds of alarm bells in my head.
What could possibly be in that vent that would make him react this way?
A woman staring at her phone in shock | Source: Midjourney
“Roger, what’s going on?” I texted back, my hands shaking slightly.
I kept thinking about all those true crime podcasts I listen to while cleaning the house. You know them.
Those little dots that show when someone is typing popped up. I watched them for what seemed like the longest time, but when he replied, the message was unexpectedly short.
“Just leave it alone until I get home, okay? Please?”
A woman glancing to one side while frowning | Source: Midjourney
What would you have done? Because I did not know what to make of this situation. I paced around the house, trying to distract myself with TV shows and books, but my eyes kept drifting toward the bathroom door.
That vent was like a black hole, pulling at my attention until I couldn’t think about anything else.
After an hour of internal debate (and maybe a glass of wine for courage), I couldn’t take it anymore.
A woman with a determined look on her face | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed my phone and walked to the bathroom, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears.
You guys, I wish I could tell you I was just being paranoid. I really do. But what I found… well, let’s just say my imagination hadn’t gone far enough.
Using my phone’s flashlight, I peered inside the vent. What I saw made my blood run cold: a small bag of white powder, a pair of latex gloves, and, the most shocking item of all, a knife.
A woman staring ahead with a shocked look | Source: Midjourney
I stumbled backward, nearly dropping my phone, my mind immediately jumping from one shocking conclusion to the next.
“Oh God, oh God,” I whispered to myself, sliding down to sit on the bathroom floor.
You know that feeling when your whole world tilts sideways and everything you thought you knew suddenly seems like a lie? That’s where I was at that moment.
My mind raced through possibilities, each worse than the last. Was Roger involved in something illegal? Dangerous? Had I been living with a stranger all these years?
A woman with one hand pressed against her cheek | Source: Midjourney
I spent the next few hours in a daze, questioning everything I thought I knew about my marriage.
The man who brought me coffee in bed every Sunday morning. The guy who cried during dog food commercials. The same person who once spent three hours helping our elderly neighbor search for her lost cat in the rain. How could he be involved in something sinister?
Here’s where things get really intense.
A worried woman staring ahead | Source: Midjourney
After careful consideration, I decided against calling the police. I needed answers first. I drove to my lawyer’s office and had her draw up divorce papers.
Real talk: I’ve never felt more scared and alone than I did sitting in that sterile office, watching her print out those documents.
But if Roger couldn’t explain this satisfactorily (and let’s be honest, what reasonable excuse could possibly explain THE KNIFE in our air vent), I needed to be prepared.
A woman seated at a desk in a lawyer’s office | Source: Midjourney
When he finally walked through the door that evening, I was standing in the living room, divorce papers clutched in my trembling hands. He immediately noticed something was wrong and rushed over to me, his face full of concern.
Looking back now, I should have seen the genuine worry in his eyes, but at the moment, I was too wrapped up in my own fears.
“What’s wrong, Ruth? Why are you upset?” he asked, reaching for my hands.
A man looking at someone with concern | Source: Midjourney
I threw the papers onto the coffee table.
“Don’t play dumb, Roger. I found something in the air vent. What the heck is all that stuff? The knife? The powder? The gloves?” My voice cracked on the last word, and I hated how vulnerable I sounded.
His face went through a series of emotions: shock, understanding, and then… was that relief? He ran his hands through his hair, a nervous habit I’d always found endearing. Now it just made me more anxious.
A man running his hands through his hair | Source: Midjourney
“I know this looks bad. I really do, but it’s not what you think,” he said, his voice shaking. “I never meant for you to find out like this. It’s… it’s for your birthday.”
“What?” I blinked hard, certain I’d misheard him. “My birthday? What does that have to do with a knife, gloves, and powder in our air vent?”
He sighed deeply. “I’ve been planning something for you. Something special. I didn’t want you to know yet, but now you’ve found it, so I have no choice but to tell you the truth.”
A man with a serious look on his face | Source: Midjourney
He gently squeezed my hands as he continued. “I rented a part of the neighbor’s garden to grow 101 roses for your birthday.”
“You what?” I interrupted, completely thrown off guard.
Of all the scenarios I’d imagined (and believe me, I’d imagined some dark ones), this hadn’t even made the list.
“I knew it would be too expensive to buy that many flowers, especially after the expenses with my mom’s surgery. So, I decided to grow them myself.”
A man glancing to one side | Source: Midjourney
“The knife is for pruning,” he explained, “the gloves for handling the plants, and the powder is a special fertilizer I’ve been using to make sure they grow just right. I’ve been watching YouTube videos for months trying to learn how to do this properly.”
I stood there, mouth hanging open as relief and embarrassment washed over me in equal measure.
All those horrible scenarios I’d imagined, and the truth was that my husband was secretly growing me roses?
A woman staring in surprise | Source: Midjourney
“I hid everything in the vent because it’s the one place you never look,” he explained, a small smile playing on his lips. “And I’ve been sneaking over to the neighbor to care for them during my evening walks. I wanted it to be a surprise. You always said you loved the scene in ‘101 Dalmatians’ where he gives her all those flowers, so I thought…”
I burst into tears, caught between laughing and crying. “I thought you were doing something criminal! I was ready to divorce you!”
An emotional woman speaking to someone | Source: Midjourney
The absurdity of the situation hit me all at once, and I couldn’t stop the hysterical giggles that bubbled up.
Roger pulled me into his arms, and I could feel him shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Only you would jump to that conclusion, Ruth. Only you.”
“Well, what was I supposed to think?” I mumbled into his chest. “You were being so weird about it! And who hides things in an air vent? That’s, like, serial killer behavior!”
We spent the rest of the evening talking about how stress and poor communication had led to this ridiculous situation.
A couple having a conversation | Source: Midjourney
As we lay in bed that night, I turned to him and said, “You know, you could have just hidden all that stuff in the garage. We have about fifty boxes you never open out there, and I never scratch around in them either.”
“Yeah,” he chuckled, “but then you would’ve wondered why I was sneaking into the garage!”
I threw a pillow at his head, but he was right.
A woman grabbing a pillow | Source: Pexels
“So, when can I see all these roses you’ve been tenderly caring for?” I asked.
“On your birthday! You may have uncovered my secret, but that doesn’t mean you get a sneak peek.”
I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face, looking forward to my birthday with a level of anticipation I hadn’t felt since I was a child.
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