Despite her age, Julia was just full of life. She constantly walked in and out of our home, ready to throw herself into our kitchen.
“I just want to feed you guys,” she told me when I asked her to sit down, ready to cook for her instead.
“I don’t have anything else to do besides meet the ladies for drinks,” she chuckled.
It usually ended with us cooking together — Toby coming home to music and laughter echoing in the kitchen.
My parents were across the country because I had moved for college, and ended up settling down here with Toby. And as much as phone and video calls kept me close to my family, at the end of the day, Julia filled the role of a mother — a mother in close proximity anyway.
After three years of being married, Toby and I were trying to have a baby.
“I’m ready if you are,” Toby told me. “I think it’s time now.”
I agreed with Toby. I was ready — I wanted to be a mom.
So, we began trying. And for months, we just couldn’t get pregnant. And the longer we tried, the more reality set in. Maybe we just weren’t meant to have biological children.
“What do you want to do?” I asked Toby. “Keep trying?”
Toby nodded. I knew that he wouldn’t ask me to do anything I didn’t want to do, but I also knew that he desperately wanted to be a father.
So, torn, I turned to my mother-in-law for advice. Julia took me to meet with a wellness coach, she took me for fertility massages, and then, she even bought Toby and I a brand new mattress.
“Maybe your body is just not rested enough,” my mother-in-law said. “Maybe you just need to give your body the best chance possible at this.”
“Do you think that it was a bit unnecessary?” I asked Toby as we got into bed that night, testing out our new mattress.
“Normally, I would have said yes,” Toby admitted. “But maybe there’s something to what Mom said. Our mattress was horrible before. Maybe it will make a difference.”
And it did. Because not even a month later, I discovered that we were pregnant. At first, I didn’t know whether to tell my husband and our family because I was so nervous about everything.
I felt that if I acknowledged the truth, then maybe I was inviting something to happen. But it made no sense — my irrational fear was selfish. Toby needed to know that we were well on our way to being parents.
“Thank goodness,” Toby said, picking me up. “Finally!”
Once we were safe within the second trimester, we told our family — satisfied that our baby’s growth was on track.
And then, before we knew it, our daughter, Maddie, was born.
My mother-in-law took over, caring for the three of us while we navigated the new waters of parenthood. She cooked and cleaned, and took over Maddie’s early morning feeding times.
Julia’s presence made me feel loved, especially because my parents were unable to come over and meet our baby yet.
Until Toby discovered something in our home that changed the way I viewed Julia forever.
Toby and I didn’t mind that Maddie spent the night in our bed – it was just easier for me to feed her through the night. But one night, Maddie had a blow-out, causing our bed to suffer the consequences.
“You sort the baby out,” Toby yawned when I woke him up to Maddie’s drama. “I’ll sort the bed out.”
I picked up my daughter and took her into the bathroom – her blow-out called for a bath, not just a diaper change. Maddie cooed and pressed her gummy hands to my face.
“Sweet girl,” I told her. “You just have to make life difficult for Dad and me, huh?”
Meanwhile, what I didn’t know was that while Toby was stripping our bed, he had uncovered something strange attached to our mattress.
By the time I was done with Maddie, she was almost asleep again. So, I took her to our bedroom, ready to put her into the crib while I helped Toby change the bedding.
“Oh, honey,” he said when he saw me standing in the doorway. “We cannot use this anymore.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, setting Maddie down. “Did she get it into the mattress?”
Toby looked nervous. He had picked up the mattress so that it stood on its side.
“No, it’s not that,” he said.
I was perplexed, watching him struggle with words. “What are you talking about? It’s just a mattress, we’ll clean it–”
“No, Larissa,” he interrupted, his voice rising in panic. “It’s not just a mattress.”
By this point, I was sleep-deprived and slightly annoyed with my husband. Toby was not a man to fumble for his words, and yet, here he was, in the early hours of the morning, too uncertain to change the sheets.
“What?”
“Look what I found,” he said.
Toby handed me a little silk bag. Inside there were various herbs. I hadn’t seen the bag before.
“What is this? Where did you find it?” I asked.
“It was pinned to the mattress. It was under the mattress protector, so I think we just didn’t notice it before.”
“Fine, but what is it for?” I asked, confused and irritable.
“It’s fertility herbs, it has to be!” Toby exclaimed.
I had no idea what he was talking about.
“Listen, I don’t know if this is true or not, but I do know that my mother believes in old wives’ tales. What if this is one of those tales?”
“She would never do that,” I said. “No way!”
“Then where else did it come from?” Toby asked flatly.
He made us sleep in the guest bedroom – where Julia slept when she stayed over. But of course, I couldn’t sleep. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t silence my mind.
I looked at Maddie, sleeping in between Toby and me. She was perfect. Sure, we had a difficult time conceiving, but Maddie was our child through and through. She had my hair and Toby’s eyes. She was ours in every sense of the word.
But there was no mistaking the fact that she was born shortly after Julia had gifted us the bed.
Could those herbs have helped with Maddie’s birth? But was that even possible?
I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, the familiar smell of gas hit my nose. Outside, Toby was dousing our mattress. He threw the match on it as I stepped outside the back door.
The mattress went up in flames in an instant – the flames seemed to dance with a fervor that matched the turmoil inside me. I was trying to understand Julia’s motives. She had always been so close to us – to me – so I couldn’t understand why she would keep this away from me.
I didn’t understand the significance of the herbs, but if she had explained it to me, I wouldn’t have felt the paranoia and fear that had settled in my body since Toby’s discovery.
“What are you doing?” I exclaimed, hearing the fire grow louder.
“We couldn’t keep it, honey. We just couldn’t,” he said.
Toby had a deep fear for anything esoteric – anything that bordered the supernatural was too much for him. He would have rather slept in our car than spent another night in the house with the mattress.
As the mattress burned, I kept an eye on the baby monitor, watching Maddie sleep. The silence between Toby and I was heavy with the uncertainty of what had been going on in our home.
Later, Julia came over to make was breakfast as usual. My husband took the lead, his voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of betrayal.
“Mom, why didn’t you tell us about the mattress? About the herbs?” he asked.
I poured Julia a cup of tea – despite everything that we had learned, she was still one of my favorite people. I loved her like I loved my mother.
My mother-in-law’s face crumpled, her usual vibrancy replaced by a somber guilt.
“I just wanted to help. I knew that you were having trouble conceiving, and I thought that if it worked, you wouldn’t care how. I never meant to hurt either of you. Especially not my granddaughter.”
“What else did you do? What’s in the bag? Other than the herbs?” Toby’s questions flew hard and fast around our living room.
“Nothing!” Julia exclaimed, finally registering Toby’s fear. “It’s just dried herbs. I can give you a list of them,” she said. “I’ll take you both to the store where I got them from. It’s a sweet little apothecary next to my dentist. It’s a store all about natural wellness.”
“You could have just told us,” I found myself saying. “How we can trust anything you do now? How do we know if our baby is a miracle baby or just an outcome of your herbs?”
“Does that matter?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears. “Maddie is here and she’s ours.”
I couldn’t exactly argue with that. Of course, Maddie was ours. I was just feeling wounded that Julia had done this and not told me. I also felt obligated to be angry with her – because my husband was livid.
“I’m sorry,” my mother-in-law whispered. “I really am.”
At her words, I felt Toby soften next to me.
“We need to start over, Mom,” he said. “If you plan on doing anything like this again, you have to tell us first. We need to know what’s going on in our own homes.”
Julia nodded and smiled at us. She seemed shaken that we had discovered the truth.
I was confused – there was a part of me that was eternally grateful to her because I know how difficult it was for us to get pregnant. But at the same time, how could sleeping on a bunch of herbs actually help us get pregnant?
Toby spent the rest of the day looking for mattresses online, while Julia baked us a tart for lunch. I just reveled in spending time with my daughter.
What do you think? Do you believe in natural remedies and old wives tales?
I Caught My Husband with His Mistress in a Hotel — This Is a Romantic Trip They Will Never Forget
Year after year, he promised that we would go, but life always seemed to get in the way—work obligations, family matters, and an endless parade of excuses.
“I’m sorry, Darling,” he would say. “It’s just that something came up at the office, and I have to attend to it.”
But then, when Tom forgot our 10th wedding anniversary, something inside me snapped.
“I have to leave town for the week,” he said while shaving. “It’s for work. We’re prospecting new clients.”
I had hoped that Tom would have told me to pack my bags and get ready to celebrate our romantic milestone—yet, it slipped his mind entirely.
Enough was enough.
I wasn’t about to be a footnote in my own love story.
So, I called my best friend, Jenny.
“We’re going away for my wedding anniversary!” I said as she answered the call.
“What?” she asked, surprised by my words, I could hear her slurping on her usual smoothie.
“Tom would hate that!”
I explained to her that Tom had to be on a business trip and that I was tired of being alone.
“Pack your bags, Jen,” I told her.
I went straight to my closet and began to pack my bags. I needed this. I needed a moment to myself. I got onto my laptop and booked a hotel. This weekend was going to be a weekend to heal, laugh, and forget the sting of neglect.
The hotel Tom had often raved about was our first stop.
As we stepped into the lobby—a place he described right down to the gilded frames on the walls—my heart raced with anticipation and a twinge of sadness.
I was happy to be here with my best friend, sure. But being with Tom would have made it so much better, with memories that would have lasted a lifetime.
“Let’s check-in and leave our bags,” Jenny said. “And then get some fish and chips from that place you’ve been talking about for the past hour.”
And then I heard it.
Tom’s laugh.
I looked up, across the room, and there he was. My husband, standing across the lobby with his arm wrapped around a woman who was decidedly not me.
The scene was like a punch to the gut. There he was, living our dream with someone else.
My first instinct was to storm across the lobby and confront them. But anger gave way to a colder, sharper strategy.
Ten years of marriage for this? This was Tom’s important business trip?
Sure.
I pulled out my phone and started filming them discreetly, capturing their intimate laughs, their shared glances—all the things that should have been mine.
“Are you okay, Eliza?” Jenny asked me, oblivious to the scene I had just witnessed.
“Look,” I said, pointing at Tom.
Jenny clasped her hands to her mouth and gasped.
Feeling emboldened, I approached the reception desk.
“I’m Mrs. Cooper,” I said. “You’ll see my husband checked in as Tom Cooper? It’s our anniversary weekend, and I wanted to surprise my husband.”
The woman behind the counter bought it. She beamed at me and told me there would be complimentary couple massages if I could prove we were married.
And then, she gave me the key to his room.
I went in and filmed everything—their clothes strewn about, the champagne on ice, the unmistakable aura of a romantic getaway.
With Jenny’s encouragement, I took to the streets of Bellport. We showed the footage to anyone willing to watch it.
“What do you think of a man who promises a romantic weekend to his wife and then takes his mistress instead?” I asked the locals.
Jenny filmed all their reactions while I spoke. People were shocked, and hurt on my behalf; some were even empathetic.
And as I met more people, it turned out that people didn’t just disapprove of Tom—they shared their stories of betrayal, connecting with my own pain.
Jenny and I went back to our room and ordered room service while she whizzed away on her laptop, turning our footage into a short film.
Forgotten Promises: A Bellport Betrayal.
Then, we uploaded it online—tagging Tom on Facebook.
It went viral overnight. And as the support began to pour in, so did the outrage towards Tom.
When Tom saw the video, he called me, furious.
“Eliza!” he barked. “Take it down! This isn’t fair!”
“It’s too late, Tom,” I replied coolly. “It’s out there now, and it’s the truth.”
Tom went on, airing his grievances through the phone.
“Why doesn’t he just come and find you?” Jenny asked. “We’re in the same hotel.”
I didn’t understand that either. But Tom seemed perfectly fine spending time with his mistress. I knew she was there with him—probably comforting him while he was distressed by my actions.
“I don’t know,” I replied to Jenny.
I cut the call, and Jenny and I took to the streets, ready to eat our feelings away in ice cream.
As we were walking, out of the blue, a travel company reached out to me. They had seen our short film and offered me a job in creating “Truthful Travelogues.”
“You’ll just have to do exactly what you did for your short film,” a woman named Natasha told me. “We’ll send you a laptop so that you can edit on there, too.”
Suddenly, I was more than just another scorned wife who had to suffer in silence and wait to be acknowledged by her husband. Now, I was a storyteller, weaving narratives of authenticity in beautiful locales.
And on the other hand—Tom’s life began to crumble. His professional image soured as colleagues and clients questioned his integrity.
That trip he took to Bellport, meant to be hidden away like a secret, became his public undoing.
His car was even egged by some of the kids who lived on our street—something that he deserved.
Shortly after I returned home, I packed all my belongings and moved in with Jenny. She was single and my constant support—there was nobody else I wanted to reinvent myself with.
Looking back, the trip to Bellport was nothing like I had imagined it would be. Initially, I had wanted it to be a romantic escape with my husband, but then it had turned into a girls’ weekend.
Only for it to become an unraveling of my marriage.
Even now, I’m not completely sure that my actions were the greatest, but at the same time—I needed to do it. I needed to expose Tom for the liar that he was.
And in the end, I needed to empower myself again. I couldn’t keep living in the shadow of Tom’s job and deceit.
Now, I have to try and rebuild my life as a newly single woman ready to get what she deserves.
What would you have done?
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