After I married my childhood sweetheart, I truly believed it was our “happily ever after.” That feeling lasted until he handed me a notebook filled with his mother’s secrets.
It all began on a regular morning in my hometown, just as I was grabbing my coffee on Main Street. And there he was—Michael, standing outside the coffee shop we used to go to as teenagers. He looked just the same, maybe a bit taller and with a touch of gray in his hair. I could hardly believe my eyes.
“Michael?” I called out, a bit unsure, but my voice gave me away.
He turned, and for a second, he looked just as stunned as I felt. Then, his face broke into that warm, familiar smile. “Is that really you?” he asked, his voice so full of warmth it took me right back. “I never thought I’d see you around here again!”
“Same here!” I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in ages. “What are the odds?”
We decided to get coffee together, just like old times. The smell of fresh pastries, the wooden counters—it felt like a trip back in time. We ended up talking for hours, sharing stories and laughing over memories.
There was the time we both got lost during a hike and how we used to slip each other notes in history class. The hours melted away as we talked.
What began as a quick coffee stretched into lunch and a long walk around town. Before I knew it, Michael and I were calling each other every day. Being with him felt easy and natural, like we’d picked up right where we’d left off.
A few months later, Michael proposed. It was a simple moment, just the two of us by the lake, where the evening sun cast soft colors over the water.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice steady but full of feeling. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”
I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes. Two months later, we were married.
After our wedding, we drove to his family’s home, a place that held so many memories. The house looked almost frozen in time, from the wallpaper in the hallway to the big oak tree in the front yard.
Later that evening, after I’d freshened up, I found Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, looking… different. His easy smile was gone, replaced by something serious. He was holding a small, worn notebook.
“Michael?” I asked, sitting down beside him. “Is everything okay?”
For a moment, he just stared down at the notebook, running his fingers along its edges. Then, finally, he looked up at me, a strange look in his eyes. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”
His tone sent a chill through me. “What is it?”
Taking a deep breath, he explained, “This notebook… it’s my mom’s. She kept it to write down things about our family—things she thought were important.”
“Okay…” I said slowly, trying to follow.
Michael handed me the notebook. As I opened it, I saw pages and pages of his mother’s handwriting, each line precise and neat. “My family believes… there’s a curse,” he said softly. “A curse on anyone who marries into our family. They believe it brings tragedy and bad luck.”
“A curse?” I asked, trying to hide my disbelief. “Michael, you don’t really believe that, do you?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve always brushed it off as superstition, but… I’ve seen things. My dad and mom didn’t exactly have the happiest marriage. And my uncle… his marriage ended in tragedy, too.”
I took his hand, squeezing it to show him I was here. “That’s hard, Michael, but it doesn’t mean there’s a curse. Lots of marriages have their problems.”
He managed a faint smile, but I could see the worry lingered. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, though he didn’t sound fully convinced.
A week after our wedding, though, strange things started happening. First, a flat tire ruined our honeymoon plans. “Just bad luck,” I told him with a forced laugh.
But when we got home, things took a strange turn. My business, which I’d spent years building, started to struggle.
Clients began leaving, and out of nowhere, negative reviews popped up online from people I’d never even worked with. I tried everything to set things right, but it felt like I was fighting an invisible force determined to tear it all down.
Then, someone broke into our house. Nothing valuable was stolen, but I felt vulnerable, like someone was watching us. Michael noticed, too. One night, he asked, “Do you think this… curse could be real?”
“Of course not,” I replied quickly, though I was starting to feel uneasy. “Maybe it’s just a rough patch… a phase.”
The real turning point came just before Thanksgiving. Michael’s mom insisted that we host the holiday at our place. We were chatting on the phone about the menu when I set my phone down on the couch. I was about to pick up a book to read when I heard voices. The call was still connected, and I could hear his parents talking.
“Do you really think this curse nonsense is still working?” Michael’s father asked, sounding frustrated.
Without even thinking, I hit the record button on my phone.
Michael’s mom laughed. “It works every time. Look at her! Her business is already struggling, and Michael is so worried he can hardly think straight. And just wait until Thanksgiving. I’ll ruin her turkey if I have to.”
“Enough, Marianne,” his father replied, sounding defeated. “You’ve already chased away enough good women from our sons.”
“If they aren’t good enough for my boys, I’ll do whatever it takes,” she replied coldly. “I know what’s best for them.”
I ended the call, feeling numb. So that was it. The curse wasn’t real—it was her doing. Every strange, unlucky thing that had happened… it was all her twisted plan to control her sons’ lives.
That night, I sat across from Michael, clutching my phone, my hands shaking. “Michael,” I started, “there’s something I need you to hear.”
He looked at me, concern filling his eyes. “What’s going on?”
I pressed play, letting him hear his mother’s voice echo in the room. Michael’s expression shifted from disbelief to shock, and then finally, to anger.
“This… this has to be a mistake,” he said, his voice wavering. “My mother would never do something like that.”
I took his hand. “Michael, I wish it were a mistake. But she’s been trying to split us up.”
He looked at me with a fierce determination. “I need to hear it from her. I need the truth.”
We drove to his parents’ house that night. His father opened the door, looking startled. “Michael, what’s wrong?”
Michael pushed past him, his face pale with anger. “Where’s Mom?”
Marianne appeared, her face tense. “What’s going on?”
Michael held up my phone. “I heard you, Mom. I know about the ‘curse.’ I know you’ve been meddling with our lives.”
Her face shifted from shock to defiance. “Michael, I don’t know what you think you heard—”
His father cut in, stepping forward. “Marianne, it’s time to stop. Michael deserves to know the truth.”
She shot him a furious look. “Don’t you dare.”
“Don’t I dare?” he replied, his voice weary. “I’ve watched you manipulate everyone. Enough is enough.”
Michael’s face crumpled with pain. “So it’s true?” he whispered, looking from his father to his mother.
Tears welled up in Marianne’s eyes. “I did it because I love you, Michael.”
He took a step back, shaking his head. “This isn’t love, Mom. It’s control.”
A heavy silence fell over the room. His father spoke next, his voice sad. “Michael, I tried to stop her. But I was scared of losing our family.”
Michael turned to me, took my hand, and led me outside. As we walked to the car, he whispered, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
I squeezed his hand. “We’re free now, Michael. That’s what matters.”
As we drove away, I felt the weight of the past lift, but I knew Michael’s heart would need time to heal. Together, though, we would build a future free of secrets, curses, and control. What do you think of the story? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
