After marrying my childhood sweetheart, Michael, I was sure our “happily ever after” had finally begun. But my excitement was soon replaced by confusion and worry when he handed me a worn notebook filled with secrets from his mother—secrets that would change everything.
It all started on a regular morning in my hometown. I was just grabbing my usual coffee from the corner shop on Main Street, lost in my own world, when I looked up—and there he was. Tall, familiar, with a few streaks of gray in his hair, Michael stood just outside the coffee shop we used to visit after school. I could hardly believe my eyes.
“Michael?” I called out, barely recognizing my own voice.
He turned, pausing for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. “Is that really you?” he said, his voice warm, just as I remembered. “I never thought I’d see you around here again!”
I laughed, shaking my head in amazement. “Same here! What are the odds?”
We decided to grab a coffee together, just like old times. As we stepped inside, it felt as though we’d traveled back in time. The same wooden counters, the familiar scent of fresh pastries—the place hadn’t changed a bit.
We spent hours chatting, sharing stories of the years we’d missed in each other’s lives and laughing at memories only we knew. It was as if no time had passed at all. Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch into a long walk around town. Before I knew it, we were calling each other every day, and a part of me felt like the missing piece of my life had returned.
A few months later, on a quiet evening by the lake, Michael proposed. He kept it simple—just him, me, and the peaceful view of the water.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice filled with a tenderness I hadn’t heard before. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”
My answer was instant. “Yes,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes. Two months later, we tied the knot in a small ceremony surrounded by close friends and family.
After the wedding, we decided to spend a night at his family home, a place where we’d once played together as kids. The house hadn’t changed a bit. From the wallpaper in the hallway to the big oak tree out front, it was just as I’d remembered.
But that night, something shifted. After I freshened up, I found Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a small notebook in his hands, his usual easy smile gone.
“Michael?” I asked gently, sitting down beside him. “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t look up right away. His fingers traced the notebook’s worn edges. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”
A chill ran down my spine. “What is it?”
With a deep breath, he finally met my gaze. “This notebook is my mom’s,” he said softly. “She kept notes about our family. Things she thought were… important.”
“Okay…” I replied, uncertain of where he was going with this.
He handed it to me, and I opened it. Every page was covered in his mother’s neat handwriting, filling each line in long, careful strokes.
“My family has this… belief,” he continued, his voice hesitant. “A curse, actually. I know it sounds ridiculous, but… they believe it’s real.”
“A curse?” I asked, trying to hide my disbelief.
He nodded, a pained look on his face. “My mom says that any woman who marries into the family… is cursed with bad luck, with tragedy and pain. She believes it’s been happening for generations.”
I almost laughed, but stopped when I saw the worry in his eyes. “Michael, do you really believe this?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking torn. “I don’t know. I always told myself it was just some silly old superstition. But… I’ve seen things, you know? My dad’s marriage to my mom wasn’t exactly smooth. My uncle’s marriage ended horribly too.”
I squeezed his hand, giving him a reassuring smile. “Look, that doesn’t mean anything. Lots of people have problems in their marriages.”
He smiled back faintly, but I could tell he was still uneasy. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, though his voice was still unsure.
But then, a week after the wedding, strange things began to happen. It started with a flat tire that ruined our plan to drive to our honeymoon destination.
“Just bad luck,” I said with a forced laugh, trying to lighten the mood.
But back home, things only got stranger. The business I’d worked so hard to build suddenly began losing clients. Worse yet, a wave of bad reviews appeared online, posted by people I’d never even worked with. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to fix the damage. It felt as if my work had been… cursed.
Then came the break-in. Our house was ransacked, yet nothing valuable was taken. But the fear it left behind was enough to shake me.
Michael noticed my growing frustration. “You think this… curse could be real?” he asked one night, his voice barely a whisper.
“Of course not,” I replied quickly, though even I was beginning to doubt myself. “There has to be an explanation. Maybe it’s just a tough time.”
The real turning point came just before Thanksgiving. Michael’s mother insisted we host the holiday at our home, so we spent hours chatting about the menu and decorations over the phone. After the call ended, I settled down to read, but then I noticed my phone still connected to the call. And that’s when I heard them.
“Do you think this curse nonsense is still working?” Michael’s father asked her, his voice sounding both frustrated and tired.
Without thinking, I pressed the record button on my phone.
His mother’s laugh echoed through the line. “It works every time. Look at her! Her business is already falling apart, and Michael’s so worried he can barely think straight. And I’ll make sure the turkey is ruined, too.”
“Enough, Marianne,” his father replied sharply. “You’ve already driven away enough women from our sons.”
“If they aren’t right for my boys, I’ll do what I have to,” she snapped back. “I know what’s best for them.”
I ended the call, feeling numb. All those strange misfortunes—the flat tire, the bad reviews, the break-in—they weren’t the result of any curse. It was her, manipulating our lives to control her sons’ relationships.
That night, I sat down with Michael, clutching my phone in my hands. “Michael, there’s something I need you to hear.”
He looked at me, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
I pressed play, and his mother’s voice filled the room, her words as clear as they had been earlier.
Michael’s face went pale as he listened, his eyes flickering between disbelief and hurt. “This… this can’t be real. My mother would never…”
I took his hand. “Michael, I overheard the whole thing. She’s been trying to sabotage us.”
He stared at me, then nodded slowly, his face hardening with determination. “I need to hear it from her. From both of them.”
That night, we drove to his parents’ house. His father opened the door, surprised to see us.
“Michael, is everything alright?” he asked, looking uneasy.
Michael didn’t answer. He walked straight inside, his face tense with anger. “Where’s Mom?”
His father hesitated, his face falling. “Michael, please, try to stay calm.”
“I am calm,” Michael replied, though his voice strained to keep it steady. “But I want the truth.”
When his mother finally appeared, she looked at Michael with a strained smile. “What’s going on, dear?”
Michael held up my phone. “I heard you, Mom. All of it. The curse. The lies. The way you tried to control everyone.”
Her expression shifted from confusion to something harder. “Michael, I don’t know what you think you heard, but—”
“You know what you said, Marianne,” his father interrupted quietly, his voice tired. “There’s no point in denying it.”
Her face twisted in anger as she turned to him. “Don’t you dare!”
“Don’t I dare?” he shot back, finally standing up to her. “I’ve watched you do this for years. You’ve chased away every woman Michael or his brothers ever loved, just because you thought you knew what was best. It has to end.”
Michael’s face crumpled, his voice barely a whisper. “So it’s true? All of it?”
Tears filled her eyes. “I did it because I love you, Michael.”
He shook his head, backing away. “This isn’t love. It’s control.”
A heavy silence filled the room. His father spoke, his voice weary. “Michael, I tried to stop her. I thought one day she might change. I thought maybe you’d be strong enough to walk away from it all.”
Michael turned to his father, his face full of hurt. “And you let her keep doing it?”
His father looked down, ashamed. “I was afraid of losing you.”
Taking my hand, Michael led me outside. Under the starlit sky, he turned to me, his voice full of regret. “I’m so sorry. For all of it.”
I squeezed his hand. “We’re free now, Michael. That’s all that matters.”
But as we walked to the car, I felt the weight of his family’s twisted love, of secrets held too long. Michael had a
family to rebuild—one we’d create together, free of curses and control. And for the first time in months, I felt hopeful.
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