When I Got Home Early from Work, My Husband Offered to Give Me a Foot Massage – It Felt Suspicious, and I Was Right

I got home early, and Greg greeted me with an unusual smile and an offer to massage my feet—something he’d never done before. I wanted to believe it was kindness, but a faint click from the bathroom told me the truth: my husband was hiding a devastating secret.

It all started six years ago. I was 29, fresh out of a long-term relationship, and feeling like I’d never find someone again.

A sad young woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels

A sad young woman deep in thought | Source: Pexels

Then, one evening, Greg walked into my life. I was sitting at a bar, nursing a glass of wine after work, when he strolled over with that confident, easy smile of his.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asked, gesturing to the stool beside me.

He was tall, handsome, and had a twinkle in his eye. He was the kind of guy who seemed like he had the whole world figured out. I smiled shyly and nodded.

A man in a bar | Source: Pexels

A man in a bar | Source: Pexels

He sat down and immediately started talking. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Let me guess—accountant?”

I laughed. “Close. Marketing.”

“Ah, I knew it. You’ve got that creative, problem-solving vibe,” he said, grinning.

From that moment, I was hooked. Greg had a way of making me feel seen, like I was the most interesting person in the room. We started dating, and within a year, we were married.

A woman leaning against a man who's smiling while working on his laptop | Source: Pexels

A woman leaning against a man who’s smiling while working on his laptop | Source: Pexels

At first, it was perfect. He was funny, charming, and affectionate. He made me feel like I could do anything. I thought he brought out the best in me.

But as time went on, little things started to bother me. Greg didn’t want kids. He said it wasn’t the right time, but I knew deep down he’d never change his mind. It broke my heart because I had always dreamed of a big family.

A sad woman with her back turned to a distraught man | Source: Pexels

A sad woman with her back turned to a distraught man | Source: Pexels

And then there was his tendency to prioritize everyone else over me. His brother needed help moving? Greg was there. His friends wanted to hang out? He’d cancel our plans without a second thought. I told myself it was just who he was, but it hurt.

Over the years, our marriage settled into something… quiet. Too quiet. The spark that had once been there was gone. We were more like roommates than a couple.

A woman talking to her husband in the corridor | Source: Pexels

A woman talking to her husband in the corridor | Source: Pexels

That evening, I got home early from work for the first time in weeks. I was exhausted after back-to-back meetings and just wanted to kick off my heels and relax.

When I walked in, Greg was waiting for me by the door. He had this huge grin on his face, the kind that made his dimples show.

“Long day?” he asked, leaning in to kiss my cheek.

“Yeah,” I said, dropping my bag on the console table. “Exhausting.”

A tired woman | Source: Pexels

A tired woman | Source: Pexels

“Perfect,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll give you a foot massage.”

I blinked. Greg? Offering a foot massage? He usually groaned when I asked him to hand me the remote.

“Are you serious?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he said, guiding me to the couch. “You deserve to be pampered.”

A couple kissing at home | Source: Pexels

A couple kissing at home | Source: Pexels

Too tired to argue, I let him slip off my shoes. His hands were surprisingly gentle as they worked on my aching feet.

“This is… nice,” I said hesitantly.

He laughed, a little too loudly. “Can’t a guy spoil his wife without it being suspicious?”

I forced a smile but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. This wasn’t Greg. At least, not the Greg I’d been living with for the past few years.

A serious woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

A serious woman sitting in her living room | Source: Midjourney

Then, I heard a faint click coming from down the hall.

I sat up straight. “Did you hear that? Like the bathroom door…”

Greg laughed nervously. “Must be the pipes. You know how this old house is.”

My stomach tightened. “Greg, what’s going on?”

“Nothing!” he said, his voice pitching higher than usual. “You’re just tired. Sit down, relax…”

A nervous man in his living room | Source: Midjourney

A nervous man in his living room | Source: Midjourney

Ignoring him, I got up and walked toward the bathroom.

“Wait!” he called after me, panic creeping into his voice. “Where are you going?”

The hallway felt longer than usual as I made my way toward the bathroom. My pulse pounded in my ears, each step making my unease grow.

A woman walking along a corridor | Source: Midjourney

A woman walking along a corridor | Source: Midjourney

When I flung the bathroom door open, the air hit me first. It was warm and humid, like someone had just stepped out of the shower. The mirror was slightly fogged.

My heart pounded as I scanned the room. That’s when I saw it: a tube of crimson lipstick lying on the counter.

I picked it up, holding it in front of him as he approached hesitantly. “Whose is this?”

Greg’s face turned pale. “Uh… it’s yours?”

An angry woman holding her lipstick | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman holding her lipstick | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t insult me,” I snapped. “You know I don’t wear this color.”

Before he could respond, a muffled sneeze came from the bedroom.

My breath caught. I looked at Greg, who was visibly sweating now.

“Care to explain that?” I asked, my voice icy.

A couple arguing in their home | Source: Pexels

A couple arguing in their home | Source: Pexels

He stammered, “It’s nothing. Really. I swear…”

I didn’t wait to hear the rest. With my heart racing, I headed for the bedroom.

Greg scrambled behind me, his voice rang out, desperate. “Wait, don’t!”

Ignoring him, I flung the closet door open.

An angry woman opening her closet | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman opening her closet | Source: Midjourney

A woman crouched there, clutching a pair of high heels to her chest. She looked startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Her hair was mussed, and she was wearing a silk robe that I instantly recognized as mine.

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice sharper than I’d ever heard it.

An angry woman shouting at her husband's mistress | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman shouting at her husband’s mistress | Source: Midjourney

She stood up slowly, her face flushing red. “This isn’t what it looks like,” she said, brushing at the robe like that would somehow make everything better.

Greg stepped into the room, his hands raised like he was trying to calm a wild animal. “Honey, please, let me explain.”

An apologetic man holding his hands up | Source: Freepik

An apologetic man holding his hands up | Source: Freepik

I turned on him, the fury rising in my chest. “Explain? Explain what, Greg? That there’s a strange woman hiding in our bedroom? Wearing my robe?” I gestured to the woman, who was now fidgeting awkwardly.

“Listen, I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” the woman said weakly.

A shocked woman sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney

A shocked woman sitting in bed | Source: Midjourney

“Find out what?” I snapped, my voice shaking. “That my husband is a lying cheat? That he brings his little girlfriend here when I’m at work? Don’t try to defend him!”

“Babe, please, don’t do this,” Greg begged, stepping closer to me.

“Don’t you dare call me ‘babe,'” I hissed, stepping back. “You think you can sweet-talk your way out of this? Pack your things and go. Now. Both of you.”

An angry woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

The woman looked at Greg, wide-eyed. “I thought you said she wouldn’t be home.”

My stomach churned at her words, but I refused to let the tears fall. I turned back to Greg. “Get her out of my house. And don’t bother coming back.”

Greg held his hands up in surrender. “Just give me a chance to explain—”

“Leave!” I shouted, my voice echoing off the walls.

A woman shouting in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

A woman shouting in her bedroom | Source: Midjourney

The woman grabbed her shoes and scurried out of the room. Greg hesitated for a moment, his mouth opening as if to argue. But when he saw the look on my face, he seemed to think better of it.

He left without another word, following her out the front door.

I stood in the middle of the bedroom, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me. For a moment, I felt numb. But then something shifted.

A sad woman in the middle of her living room | Source: Midjourney

A sad woman in the middle of her living room | Source: Midjourney

This was my house. My life. And I wasn’t going to let Greg taint it any longer.

I grabbed a box from the garage and started packing his things. His clothes, his toiletries, even the stupid coffee mug he loved went into the box. I worked quickly, methodically, not letting myself dwell on the memories tied to each item.

As I was finishing up, I called my brother. “Can you come over?” I asked, my voice steady but tired.

A tired woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

A tired woman looking at her phone | Source: Pexels

“Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What’s going on?”

“Greg’s gone,” I said simply.

My brother arrived half an hour later, his presence a welcome relief. He didn’t ask many questions, just hugged me and helped me carry Greg’s belongings to the front door.

By the time Greg returned the next night, I was ready.

A nervous man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

A nervous man standing on a porch | Source: Midjourney

He walked in, looking sheepish and hopeful. “Can we talk?” he asked softly.

I pointed to the pile of his belongings by the door. “No, Greg. We’re done.”

“Please, just hear me out—”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said firmly. “Take your things and go.”

An angry woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

An angry woman standing in her doorway | Source: Midjourney

He stood there for a moment, as if he thought I might change my mind. When I didn’t, he sighed, grabbed his things, and walked out the door for the last time.

The next day, I filed for divorce. It felt strange, almost surreal, but also like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.

Divorce papers on the table | Source: Pexels

Divorce papers on the table | Source: Pexels

Over the next few months, I started to reclaim my life. I redecorated the house, filling it with things that made me happy. I spent time with friends and family, people who reminded me of who I was before Greg came along.

It wasn’t easy. There were moments when I felt angry, hurt, and lonely. But each day, I felt a little lighter. A little freer.

A woman looking out of her window | Source: Pexels

A woman looking out of her window | Source: Pexels

One evening, as I sat in my newly redecorated living room, I looked around and realized something: I was happy. Truly happy.

Greg’s betrayal had been painful, but it had also been a wake-up call. I had spent so much time trying to make our marriage work that I’d forgotten my own worth. Now, I was finally putting myself first.

A tired woman in her office | Source: Pexels

A tired woman in her office | Source: Pexels

As I closed the chapter on my marriage, I felt hopeful for the future. Whatever came next, I knew I was strong enough to face it.

I Brought My Fiancé to Meet My Parents — He Fled in the Middle of the Night, Shouting ‘I Can’t Believe It!’

I’ve been with my fiancé for six years, and we were supposed to get married next month. But during a visit to my parents, he discovered their secret lifestyle, causing him to question our relationship too.

I’ve been with my fiancé for six years, but we’ve known each other for nine. We were supposed to get married next month, but then everything changed the course of our wedding journey.

We went to visit my parents to introduce him to more of my extended family before the wedding. My parents offered to host us, and we’ve been staying in my old room for the sake of nostalgia.

My fiancé, Adam, wanted to stay at a hotel, but I thought it would be fun to just have him share my old room with me.

“I don’t see why staying in your childhood home is going to change anything,” Adam told me when we were packing for the trip.

“Because it’s going to be my last time with my parents under their roof before I become a married woman. It’s going to be a sentimental moment,” I replied.

“If it gets uncomfortable, I’m just going to check myself into a hotel,” he said casually.

Of course, I didn’t expect what would happen next.

We got to my parents’ home, and everyone was excited to see us. My mother and aunt had cooked up an elaborate meal for us, ready to just sit down at the table and get to know Adam better.

All through dinner, everything went as well as expected, and Adam happily enjoyed having the attention centered around him.

“This is new for me,” he said as we did the dishes in between the mains and dessert. “I’m not used to having people pay attention to me like this.”

“It’s a good thing,” I said, handing him a plate. “You’re supposed to feel welcome and at home with my family, too.”

As the night died down and we all went to bed, ready for a good night’s sleep before the following day’s family outing to the local theme park, Adam kept disturbing my sleep.

“What’s going on?” I asked, turning to face him.

“I just can’t sleep, Sasha,” he snapped. “It’s not my bed, and I’m not used to sleeping in beds that aren’t my own. And your bed is lumpy and uncomfortable.”

“Just go and take a walk outside,” I grumbled. “The fresh air should make a difference, and you’ll come back and fall asleep.”

“Fine,” he said, getting out of bed and leaving the room.

I was just about to fall asleep again when Adam’s scream pierced the air. I bolted upright in bed with my heart racing.

What on earth was going on? Was there someone in the house? Were we in danger?

While my brain was moving a mile a minute, trying to decide what to do next, Adam stormed back into the room.

“What happened?” I blurted out, uneasy.

My fiancé’s face contorted in a mix of horror and anger, and he paused for a minute before he started yelling.

“I cannot believe it,” he yelled. “Your mom! Sasha! Your mother! She’s kissing another man in the foyer!”

My heart sank. I had hoped that we would have gotten through this entire visit without this.

If anything, I had always dreaded this moment, the time when my parents’ unusual and unconventional marriage would come to light.

I tried to explain, to calm him down, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Call your dad, Sasha,” Adam demanded. “Tell him that your mom is cheating right here in your own home.”

It seemed logical, simple even. And I understood why Adam would think that having my father involved would solve everything.

But he couldn’t be further from the truth.

Before I could react and begin navigating the explanation, my mom walked in, still straightening her clothes.

“I can explain,” she started, but my fiancé cut her off.

“Explain? What’s there to explain? You’re cheating on your husband in his own home!”

“It’s not cheating, darling,” she said softly. “Sasha knows, and she’ll explain it all to you. Shaun and my marriage is different. Very different. It’s unconventional compared to your usual marriage. You need to understand that, Adam, before you judge us.”

Adam turned to me, eyes wide.

“You knew? You knew about this, and you didn’t tell me?”

I tried to reach out to him, but he recoiled.

“I didn’t know how to tell you, and I’m not proud of keeping this secret. But it wasn’t mine to tell.”

“Sasha!” he said, his hands in the air. “You should have told me! This isn’t something that you just keep hidden from the person that you’re going to marry. I don’t know if I can trust you now. This was a setup, wasn’t it? You wanted to introduce me to this lifestyle, isn’t it?”

By this point, I was overwhelmed, and I couldn’t understand what Adam was getting at.

I was taken back to a memory from my youth. I was 16, and my friends were planning a sleepover at my home.

“You have the biggest room, Sasha,” my friend Brielle said. “Let’s have it at your place.”

“That’s perfectly fine with me,” I said. “I don’t think my parents will mind at all! And we can watch movies in the living room because my parents have a TV in their room now, so they won’t disturb us.”

“I’ll bring my cotton candy machine,” Brielle said excitedly. “We can have that and popcorn!”

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I remember going home after school and telling my mother all about our plans. She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

“Sure, honey,” she said. “You girls can take care of yourselves. Dad and I have a dinner that evening.”

Little did I know that later that evening, I would discover the truth about my parents’ marriage.

My friends and I were all sitting on the couch when my parents walked in with another couple. My mother was holding tightly onto a man’s hand as she kicked off her shoes. My father was kissing the other woman.

When they saw me, they were shocked. And they had no choice but to explain the situation to me.

“We are married to each other, and we love each other. We’re committed, honey. But we’re also allowed to see other people if we want to,” my mother explained gently. “There’s nothing wrong with the way we are. And you need to understand that.”

Now, listening to Adam, I was taken back to the same flood of emotions.

“No, it’s nothing like that,” I said. “I am dedicated to you. I don’t want that lifestyle.”

But Adam wasn’t having it. He just wasn’t listening. Instead, he began to speak about his mother’s infidelity which had led to his parents’ divorce. It all made him see betrayal everywhere.

“Everything is a red flag for me, Sasha.”

He packed a bag and left for a hotel, saying that he needed a moment to reevaluate our engagement.

I spent the rest of the night crying, feeling the weight of my parents’ choices crashing down on my own relationship.

“You need to talk to him,” my mother said, giving me a cup of coffee. “Just go to him.”

I joined him at the hotel. We barely spoke, the silence heavy with everything left unsaid. I didn’t know if Adam still wanted to be together or not. I suggested that we move to my grandmother’s house for the rest of our stay so that we could talk about everything while still being comfortable.

“Yeah,” he said. “That’s okay with me because this hotel is too cold anyway.”

There was a coldness between us that hadn’t been there before.

“I’ve never kept secrets from you,” I told him. “I didn’t know how to bring it up. It’s not something that I like talking about because I struggled to understand it myself.”

Adam sighed, rubbing his temples.

“I get it. But this feels too close to home, Sasha,” he said. “I just need some time.”

We spent the rest of the week at my grandmother’s house, trying to finish the family visit in the best spirits we could muster. My parents apologized to Adam, but it didn’t matter anymore.

It wasn’t about them. It was about the fact that their actions had triggered my fiancé. On the drive home, Adam and I decided that we wanted to stay together and see where life took us.

“But I think we need to go to therapy,” I said, handing Adam a drink.

“I think that’s a good idea,” he said, biting his lip. “Because I need to uncover my own trauma before accepting your parents.”

Now, Adam and I have started talking about everything. From his fears, my shame, our future. We could only heal from this.

What would you have done?

If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one for you.

My Entitled Parents Demanded That I Give Them My New House — My In-Laws Suddenly Stood up for Me

When Carina’s parents kick her out after high school, she has no choice but to navigate her way around life. Years later, after making a success of her life, and her wedding is around the corner, she reaches out to them, only for them to storm into her life, trying to take ownership of what she has worked so hard for.

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