Keanu Reeves is a much-loved celebrity, and everyone who’s met him has great things to say about him. So when he recently shared some bad news about himself, many people were worried.
Here’s what happened:
Keanu has been busy working on his new project, *Good Fortune*. He appeared on *The Late Show with Stephen Colbert* this week and shared a story that got people concerned.
The 59-year-old actor revealed that he broke his kneecap while filming. Known for his action roles in movies like *The Matrix* and the *John Wick* series, he explained that the injury came from something surprisingly minor.
Colbert asked, “What happened? Who got to you?”
The actor replied playfully in a tough guy voice, “No one got to me,” adding, “Accident got to me.”
“Were you jumping from building to building? Were you doing a cartwheel past razor blades? What were you doing?” Stephen further probed.
“No, Stephen, I was walking into the dressing room, a room. I will tell it quick,” Keanu explained.
Keanu explained that his injury happened while filming a comedy called *Good Fortune* with Aziz Ansari and Seth Rogen. The three were in a cold plunge, and Keanu was having a good time. Afterward, he was doing a “cold shuffle” in a room with soft carpets when his foot got stuck in a pocket.
To show what happened, Keanu walked in front of Stephen Colbert’s desk and demonstrated how his knee gave way. He described it as if his knee “spiked” into the ground.
He said his kneecap cracked like a potato chip, although he didn’t realize it at first. It wasn’t until his knee started swelling up that he knew something was seriously wrong.
“Comedy is hard, man,” Keanu added as a joke.
“This was not an action film with Aziz and Rogen,” Stephen clarified once again.
“No, it was comedy,” Keanu confirmed.
“Welcome to my life,” Stephen joked.
In January, Keanu was seen filming with crutches and an ice pack on his knee.
*Good Fortune* not only stars Aziz Ansari but is also his first time directing. He wrote and co-produced the movie, which also features Sandra Oh and Keke Palmer.
It’s great to hear that Keanu Reeves has recovered well. Feel free to share this update with anyone who wants to know how he’s doing!
I MARRIED A WIDOWER WITH A SMALL SON – ONE DAY, THE BOY TOLD ME THAT HIS REAL MOM STILL LIVES IN OUR HOUSE
The antique clock in the hallway chimed six times, its resonant tones echoing through the quiet house. I knelt on the living room carpet, building a precarious tower of blocks with Lucas, my five-year-old stepson. He giggled, his small hands clumsily placing a wobbly blue block atop the structure.
“Careful, Lucas,” I cautioned, “it’s going to fall!”
He squealed with delight as the tower swayed, then crashed to the ground. But his laughter died abruptly, replaced by a wide-eyed stare directed towards the hallway.
“Mom says you shouldn’t touch her things,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
A shiver ran down my spine. “What do you mean, sweetie?” I asked, my voice trembling slightly.
He pointed towards the hallway, his eyes fixed on something I couldn’t see. “Mom says she doesn’t like it when you move her picture.”
My heart pounded in my chest. “Lucas,” I said, forcing a smile, “your mom… she’s not here anymore, remember?”
He shook his head, his expression serious. “No, she is. She’s right there.”
I followed his gaze, my eyes scanning the empty hallway. There was nothing there, just the familiar antique furniture and the framed photographs on the wall. Yet, Lucas’s words echoed in my mind, fueling a growing unease that had been plaguing me for weeks.
It had started with a simple whisper, a chilling confession as I tucked him into bed one night. “My real mom still lives here,” he had said, his voice barely a breath.
I had dismissed it as a child’s overactive imagination, a way of coping with the loss of his mother. But then, strange things started happening. Lucas’s toys, meticulously tidied away, would reappear in the middle of the living room floor. Kitchen cabinets, carefully organized, would be found rearranged overnight. And the photograph of Ben’s late wife, Mary, which I had moved to a less prominent spot, kept returning to its original place on the mantelpiece, perfectly dusted.
I had tried to rationalize it, to attribute it to forgetfulness or coincidence. But the incidents grew more frequent, more unsettling. And Ben, my husband, seemed oblivious, or perhaps, deliberately blind to it all.
“Ben,” I had said one evening, my voice trembling, “have you noticed anything… strange happening around the house?”
He had looked at me, his brow furrowed. “Strange? Like what?”
I hesitated, unsure how to articulate the growing sense of unease that had taken root in my heart. “I don’t know… things moving, things changing…”
He had chuckled, dismissing my concerns with a wave of his hand. “You’re just tired, darling. It’s been a stressful few weeks.”
But I wasn’t tired. I was terrified.
Now, as I looked at Lucas, his eyes wide with conviction, I knew I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Something was happening in this house, something I couldn’t explain.
“Lucas,” I said, my voice gentle, “can you tell me more about your mom? What does she look like?”
He tilted his head, his brow furrowed in thought. “She’s very pretty,” he said. “She has long hair, like you. And she wears a white dress.”
My blood ran cold. The description matched the woman in the photograph, the woman whose presence seemed to linger in every corner of this house.
“And what does she say to you?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
Lucas looked at me, his eyes filled with a chilling seriousness. “She says she’s not happy,” he whispered. “She says you’re trying to take her place.”
A wave of fear washed over me, so intense it almost brought me to my knees. I looked around the room, the familiar furniture suddenly seeming menacing, the shadows deepening in the corners. I felt a presence, a cold, unseen gaze fixed upon me.
I had married a widower, a man I loved deeply, a man who had welcomed me into his life and his home. But I had also married into a house haunted by the past, a house where the presence of his late wife lingered, a house where I was not welcome.
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