After saving every single penny like my life depended on it, I thought I was finally ready to take the trip I had dreamed about for months—to visit my late father’s grave in Europe and finally say goodbye. But I never imagined that my own husband would try to stop me. He tried to steal my money for his selfish plans… and I made sure he paid dearly for it.
I’ve been married to Ethan for four years. We’re a typical couple with no kids, navigating life’s ups and downs together. I loved him—or at least, I thought I did—until one night everything changed.
My heart had been set on one dream: going to my father’s grave. He passed away a few months ago, and I hadn’t been able to say goodbye. It haunted me every day. So I started saving.
Being a nurse, it wasn’t easy. Every paycheck went into a little box in my closet, hidden under sweaters. Over time, I had tucked away more than $5,000. That money wasn’t just cash—it was my ticket to closure, to finally finding some peace. Ethan knew I was saving. He supported it… or so I thought.
Money was tight for us. Every bill and grocery trip had to be carefully planned. I had told Ethan about my plan to visit Dad in three weeks. Now, I was counting down the days, excitement and nerves swirling in my chest.
A few days later, I got off work early and decided to go straight home. Ethan was supposed to be working the night shift, so I expected the house to be quiet. But as I neared our street, I noticed a light in our bedroom.
Confused, I crept up to the window to peek inside. My stomach dropped. There he was—Ethan. On his knees. In front of our closet.
I shifted to get a better view… and froze. He was rifling through my secret stash! My hands clenched into fists. I needed to catch him red-handed.
I called him from my phone, hiding behind the window. After the fourth ring, he reluctantly picked up.
“Hi, babe, where are you?” I asked, pretending I wasn’t watching him.
“Why are you speaking so softly? I’m at work, I told you I’m on the night shift!” he snapped.
“Oh, sorry, honey. I just… wanted to ask you to prepare dinner. I’ll be later than usual,” I lied smoothly.
“No, can’t help you. Got to go back to work. Love you, bye.” He hung up, dropping the phone. Then he grabbed his jacket and headed out.
I ran to the car and followed him. He got on the bus, and I trailed him in the dark. When he got off, he walked twenty minutes through a shopping center. My heart pounded as he stopped at… a fishing store.
“What is he doing here?” I whispered under my breath, parking the car and sneaking inside.
What I saw next made my blood boil. Ethan was grinning like a kid in a candy store, holding the biggest inflatable boat I’d ever seen. Beside him, a cart overflowing with reels, tackle boxes, and all kinds of fishing gear.
“How is he paying for this?” I thought, horror creeping in. And then it hit me—my money. My hard-earned, carefully saved money. He had stolen it.
I stormed forward. “Ethan! What the hell are you doing?!” I shouted. Heads turned. He froze, eyes wide.
“Lizzy… what are you doing here?” he stammered, trying to shove the boat back on the shelf.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” I shot back. “Did you take my money? The money I’ve been saving for my trip?”
He blinked, innocence plastered on his face. “What? No, Lizzy. You’re overreacting. You’re tired from work.”
I felt tears pricking my eyes but refused to let them fall. “Don’t lie to me, Ethan! That money was for something important—something that actually matters! And you spent it on a boat?!”
“Lizzy, calm down,” he said, reaching for my arm. I jerked away. “You’re stressed. Maybe you’re not thinking clearly. We can talk later.”
I couldn’t take it. I turned on my heel and stormed out of the store, tears finally spilling down my cheeks. Betrayal, humiliation, anger—it all hit me at once.
That evening, Ethan came home, guilt written all over his face. He stood in the doorway as I sat on the bed, arms crossed.
“Lizzy… I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I took the money, okay? I really want to go on this fishing trip. It’s a big deal for me.”
A few days ago, he had told me about this once-in-a-lifetime chance to fish with professional guides. He was obsessed.
“I get it, Ethan, but we can’t afford it right now,” I said. “We’ve got bills, and my trip to Europe is coming soon. Can’t you wait until next year?”
He’d reluctantly agreed before, but now he had gone behind my back.
“You KNEW I was going to visit my dad’s grave in three weeks, Ethan. How could you do this?!”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ll pay the money back in a month. We can push your trip back, right? This fishing trip is really important to me,” he pleaded.
My blood boiled. He was actually asking me to delay visiting my father’s grave for his hobby.
The next morning, I woke with a plan. I called my boss and moved my vacation up. Then, while Ethan was at work, I packed up every single piece of his new fishing gear—boat, reels, tackle, the whole lot—and drove to the store.
The clerk looked surprised. “Return all of this?” he asked.
“Yes. I just… changed my mind,” I said, keeping my voice calm. No questions asked. I got the cash back. Then I sold his old gear too. By the end, I had an extra $2,000 in my pocket—and a sense of triumph I hadn’t felt in years.
I packed my suitcase, left our home quietly, and headed to the airport. I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t owe him an explanation.
The flight to Europe felt like a dream. For the first time in months, I felt calm. I didn’t know what would happen with Ethan, but that didn’t matter.
The next day, I stood before my father’s grave, placing a bouquet of daisies—his favorite—on the stone. Tears fell, but this time, they were tears of relief.
“I finally made it, Dad,” I whispered.
Later, in my hotel room, my phone buzzed. A text from Ethan: “Elizabeth, where are you? I came home and everything’s gone. Please, talk to me?”
I stared at the message. I knew I’d face him eventually, but not now. Not today. Today, I had closure. Today, I finally had peace.