For 10 Days, My Husband Claimed to Be Sleeping in His Car — I Thought He Was Cheating, but the Reality Was Crazier

When Nella notices her husband, Eric, acting a bit strange, she follows him to see where he goes off to. A few nights into this new routine, she decides to just ask him the truth. But the truth is deeper and darker than Nella could have expected. And it changes her life forever…

It all started when my husband, Eric, told me he needed some space to think things through.

We’ve been married for 12 years, and while we’ve had our share of ups and downs, this was the first time he’d ever said something like that.

A newly wed couple | Source: Midjourney

“It’s not about us, Nella,” he insisted. “I just need time to clear my head.”

But of course, my mind went to the worst possible place.

Eric was always the steady one in our marriage. He was reliable, grounded, and calm. So, when he packed a bag and casually mentioned that he would be sleeping in his car for a few nights, my anxiety went into overdrive.

A man packing a bag | Source: Midjourney

Was Eric cheating? Was this his way of leaving me? Was this how he was going to slowly slip out of our lives?

“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can give you space here, at home. You can take the guest room, or we can make the pool house into something cozier?”

“Nella,” he said, smiling slowly. “It’s not about us. But this is important to me, okay?”

A worried woman | Source: Midjourney

For ten nights, Eric would leave the house right after dinner and return just before sunrise.

He looked like hell, honestly. His hair would be disheveled, he had dark circles under his eyes, and he would move very slowly like his body just didn’t want to cooperate.

But every single time I asked, he’d brush me off with a forced smile, saying that he just needed a break.

A close up of a man | Source: Midjourney

“I promise, it’s nothing like that. Trust me, please,” he would say whenever I pushed him about whether there was someone else.

But how could I? My imagination ran wild. I pictured him in a hotel room with someone else, living a double life.

By the fifth night, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I decided to follow him.

A frowning woman | Source: Midjourney

Honestly, I felt ridiculous. It was like some cliché out of a soap drama. But I had to know what was really going on. I waited until he drove off and tailed him a few blocks behind.

He didn’t go far. Just to the local park, where he pulled up under a tree and killed the headlights.

I parked a little farther down the street and watched from the shadows. I was nervous, like I was expecting something… or someone to get into the car. Was this where Eric’s mistress met him?

But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that nobody was going to show up. He just sat there, staring at his phone, then stretching out with his pillow and blanket.

A car parked in a park | Source: Midjourney

It was just him, alone, in the dark.

For the next few nights, the same routine played out.

Eric would go to the park, curl up in the front seat, and spend hours there before driving home. My mind was just spinning.

Why would he sleep in his car unless he was hiding something? Why suffer through all that discomfort unless it was for someone else?

A man sleeping in a car | Source: Midjourney

On the tenth night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had had enough. I needed answers. After putting the kids to bed, I locked them in and drove out to the park. This time, I wasn’t just going to watch from the sidelines.

No, we were too far into this.

I pulled up next to his car and tapped on the window.

Eric looked up, startled. He quickly unlocked the door and motioned for me to get in. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, and as I slid into the passenger seat, all my emotions came rushing to the surface.

A shocked man sitting in his car | Source: Midjourney

“What the hell is going on, Eric?” I demanded. “Why are you doing this? Be honest, are you seeing someone? Is that why you’re here? Are you afraid that the kids would see or find out?”

I spoke too fast, as though all the words just needed to fall out as quickly as possible.

Eric sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. I could see the exhaustion in him now, the kind that went deeper than just losing sleep. It was like he’d been carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down.

A close up of a woman | Source: Midjourney

“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not like that, I keep telling you. There’s no one else.”

“Then what is it?” I pressed on. “You’re scaring me, Eric. Why are you out here every night?”

He glanced at me, then reached into the backseat, pulling out a small stack of books and a recording device.

“I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly. “Because I just didn’t want to worry you. But I’ve been out here recording bedtime stories for the kids.”

A stack of children’s books | Source: Midjourney

I blinked slowly.

“Bedtime stories? Why would that worry me?”

He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. “I went to the doctor a few weeks ago. They found something, a tumor. A biopsy was done, and the results came back. It’s cancer, Nella. And it’s bad. Borrowed time is all I have.”

A doctor’s office | Source: Midjourney

It felt like the ground had crumbled beneath me. I couldn’t breathe.

“What?” I gasped. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to put that on you,” he said. “I wanted you to be normal around me, and with the kids. But I also wanted to make something for the kids to remember me by.”

An upset man | Source: Midjourney

I grabbed his hand and held it tightly, as the reality of what he’d been hiding hit me all at once. This wasn’t about some other woman.

This was about my husband preparing for a future that I didn’t want to imagine.

“I refuse to let you go through this alone,” I said. “We’re going to face this together, Eric, whatever it takes.”

He nodded, tears slipping down his face, just as they slipped down mine.

A crying woman | Source: Midjourney

The months that followed were a blur of doctor’s appointments, treatments, and nights spent huddled together, clinging to each other as we tried to stay hopeful.

Eric spent all this time with the kids, playing with them and taking them on walks if he could manage it. He made them pancakes for dinner and pizza for breakfast.

He told them that they could choose their Halloween costumes months in advance.

Children in Halloween costumes | Source: Midjourney

And he fought harder than I ever imagined, but despite everything, the disease was relentless. He’d known from the start that the odds were against him.

He’d known it when he started recording those stories in his car, preparing for the worst while still trying to give us the best of himself.

“I’ll try for as long as I can,” he promised me one night when we were in bed. “But I’m getting… tired.”

A voice recorder on a table | Source: Midjourney

“I know, my love,” I said, gripping his hands under the covers. “Whatever you do, listen to your body, too. Rest when it tells you to.”

Eric passed away in the quiet hours of a winter morning. I remember the stillness of the house, how empty it felt without him there. Our kids, so young and full of life, didn’t yet grasp the enormity of the loss.

But they sat at the funeral, looking glassy-eyed and lost.

A funeral setting | Source: Midjourney

Just like me.

A few days after the funeral, when the house was filled with the muted sounds of family members and well-wishers, I finally felt ready to listen to those recordings.

I went out to his car and took the recorder out of the bag he had left it in. I scrolled through the files, seeing the familiar titles of the kids’ favorite stories.

A voice recording device | Source: Midjourney

But then, one caught my eye:

Our Story.

I took a deep breath and pressed play. His voice was warm and steady and filled the space around me instantly.

“Once upon a time,” he began. “There was a princess. She was kind, smart, and braver than any knight in the land. But most of all, she had the biggest heart anyone had ever known.”

I smiled.

An upset woman | Source: Midjourney

“One day, she met an ordinary man, just a guy from a village with no title, no riches. But the moment he saw her, he knew his life would never be the same.”

Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened, his voice wrapping around me like a hug I so desperately needed.

“The princess and the man lived many happy years together,” he continued. “Raising a prince and princess together. And even though the man grew old and weary, he knew that his princess would go on. She would continue to rule their home… with love and strength.”

Eric’s voice faltered on the last words. I could almost imagine his upset face.

A crying man | Source: Midjourney

“So, my love,” he said softly. “If you’re listening to this, know that you were my fairytale. You turned my ordinary life into something extraordinary. And even though I can’t be with you anymore, your fairytale must go on.”

It was just what I needed.

And now, whenever the days feel too heavy, I listen to Eric’s voice again. And somehow, I can smile again.

A smiling woman | Source: Midjourney

What would you have done?

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

My Husband Surprised Me on My Birthday — When I Saw Who Jumped Out of the Gift Box, I Broke Down in Tears

As Amelia’s 30th birthday approaches, her husband, Jared, keeps hinting at a major surprise for her, causing her imagination to grow wild. On the day of her birthday party, she discovers that her birthday surprise is a man who she never wanted to see again…

I could tell that something was up. My husband, Jared, had been buzzing for weeks about this “life-changing” gift. Every day, another cryptic comment came my way.

“You’ll love it, babe, trust me!” Jared would say, practically bouncing on his feet.

An excited man | Source: Midjourney

When I asked him about it, he’d just smirk and say, “You’ll see!”

Honestly, by the time my birthday party rolled around, I was convinced that it was something practical. Like maybe an appliance, or the recliner with the massage functions I’d been eyeing. I would have been happy with the ice cream machine that I wanted, but honestly, Jared’s enthusiasm made me feel good that he’d gone to so much trouble.

“You’re worth all the effort, Amelia,” he said. “I just want you to feel special and know that I listen and I care.”

A recliner with a green bow | Source: Midjourney

So when he walked in on my birthday, he struggled to roll in a massive gift box much bigger than our washing machine.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

I Found Photos of Me with a Newborn, but I Don’t Remember Ever Being Pregnant

I opened a box of forgotten photos while cleaning the attic and found pictures of me holding a tiny newborn, my eyes brimming with love. But I’d never been pregnant, let alone given birth. I decided to investigate, unaware I must face a truth that would shatter me to the core.

A few weeks ago, I was cleaning the attic when I pulled an old box from the shelf. It was labeled “Photos – Keep” in my handwriting, though I had no memory of marking it. Dust motes danced in the bright light as I nervously opened the box.

An old box on the floor | Source: Midjourney

Inside, memories spilled out in glossy 4×6 prints: my college graduation with Mom and Dad beaming beside me, our wedding day with Daniel spinning me around the dance floor, and countless summer barbecues at the lake house.

Then, everything STOPPED.

There I was, in a hospital bed, cradling a newborn baby. My hair was plastered to my forehead with sweat, dark circles under my eyes, but my expression… I was gazing at that tiny bundle with such raw, pure love that it took my breath away.

A person holding a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash

More photos followed — me holding the baby against my chest, touching its impossibly small fingers, crying as I looked into its face. In another, I was feeding the baby, my finger trapped in its tiny fist.

But that was impossible. I’d never had a baby. Never been pregnant. NEVER. Then how was this possible?

I sank to the attic floor, surrounded by the scattered photos. My hands shook as I examined each one closely, searching for signs of manipulation or editing.

But they were real… the paper was aged and the corners slightly worn.

A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney

In one picture, a distinctive mustard-yellow chair sat in the corner of the hospital room, and the curtains had an odd geometric pattern I recognized.

It was St. Mary’s Hospital, the same hospital where we’d visited my aunt after her hip surgery last year.

Daniel was at work, and I was grateful for the solitude as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. These photos showed a moment that should have been the most significant part of my life.

But I remembered nothing. Not a single second.

A mustard-yellow chair in a room | Source: Midjourney

My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I gathered the photos and grabbed my car keys as soon as Daniel left for work the following morning.

I didn’t ask him anything as I wanted to find out about this mysterious baby on my own.

The hospital parking lot was nearly empty at 11 a.m. on that pleasant Tuesday. I sat in my car for five minutes, clutching the photos to my chest and trying to gather the courage to go inside.

A young mother walked past pushing a stroller, and my chest tightened with an emotion I couldn’t name.

A woman pushing a baby stroller | Source: Pexels

The reception area smelled of antiseptic and floor cleaner. A young woman with bright blue scrubs and a butterfly-shaped name tag looked up as I approached.

“Hi,” I said. “I need to access some old records of mine.”

“Look at this,” I then added, showing her the pictures. “Whose baby is this? Why am I holding it? I don’t remember anything. What’s happening?”

Without answering, she typed something on her phone and then frowned at her screen. Her fingers paused over the keypad.

“One moment, please!” she said, disappearing into a back office, whispering urgently to someone.

A hospital staff in scrubs | Source: Pexels

An older nurse emerged, her hair pulled back in a neat bun, her name tag reading “Nancy, Head Nurse.” Her eyes held a mix of concern and recognition that made my stomach twist.

“Miss, we do have records for you here, but we’ll need to contact your husband before we can discuss them.”

My stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

“Hospital policy, in cases like this. Please, let me call him now.”

A hospital staff holding documents | Source: Pexels

“No, these are my medical records. I have a right to know—”

But Nancy was already picking up the phone, her eyes never leaving my face. She dialed, and I heard the ring through the receiver.

“Sir? This is Nancy from St. Mary’s Hospital. Yes… your wife Angela is here requesting access to some medical records. Yes… I see… Could you come down right away? Yes, it’s about that… Thank you.”

A nurse holding a smartphone | Source: Pexels

My hands clenched into fists. “You know my husband? You have his number?”

“He’ll be here in 20 minutes. Would you like some water while you wait?”

“No. I want answers.”

I sank into a plastic chair, the photos clutched to my chest.

Every minute that ticked by on the waiting room clock felt like an eternity. When Daniel finally arrived, still in his work clothes, his face was ashen. He’d clearly driven here at full speed.

“Angela??”

A startled man in a hospital | Source: Midjourney

“What’s going on, Dan? Why do they have your number? Why won’t they talk to me without you?”

He turned to Nancy. “Is Dr. Peters available?”

The doctor’s office was small, with certificates covering one wall and a small window overlooking the parking lot. Dr. Peters was a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and worry lines around her mouth. She folded her hands on her desk as we sat down.

“Tell her,” Dr. Peters said. “Your wife deserves to know everything.”

My heart hammered against my ribs. “Know what? What’s going on?”

A doctor in her office | Source: Pexels

Daniel leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Six years ago, my sister Fiona came to us with a request. Do you remember how long she and Jack had been trying to have a baby?”

“Your sister? What does she have to do with this?”

“The fertility treatments weren’t working. The IVF failed three times,” he swallowed hard. “She asked if you would consider being her surrogate. And you said… yes.”

The world tilted sideways. “No. That’s not… I would remember that. A pregnancy? Being a surrogate? No, I wouldn’t—”

A shocked woman looking up | Source: Midjourney

“You were so determined to help her, Angel. You said it was the greatest gift you could give your sister-in-law. The pregnancy went perfectly. You were glowing and so happy to be helping them. But when the baby was was born—”

Dr. Peters spoke up. “You experienced a severe psychological break after delivery, Angela. The maternal hormones and bonding process were stronger than anyone anticipated. You refused to let go of the baby. When they tried to take him to Fiona, you became hysterical.”

I pressed my hands against my temples. “Stop. Please stop.”

Grayscale shot of a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash

“Your mind protected itself,” Dr. Peters explained gently. “It’s called dissociative amnesia. Your psyche built a wall around the memories to shield you from the trauma of the separation. In cases of severe emotional distress, the mind can—”

“You’re telling me I forgot an entire pregnancy? A whole baby? That’s not possible! I would know. My body would know. My heart would know.”

“Angel,” Daniel reached for my hand. But I jerked away so violently my chair scraped against the floor.

Portrait of a distressed man | Source: Midjourney

“Don’t touch me! You knew? All this time, you knew? Every time we talked about maybe having kids someday, every time we walked past a baby store… you knew I had carried a child? Given birth? And given him away like he was some freaking toy?”

“Where is he?” I demanded, my throat raw and eyes red-rimmed from crying.

“Fiona moved to the countryside shortly after. The doctors thought the distance would help you recover.”

A teary-eyed woman | Source: Unsplash

“So everyone just decided?” I laughed. “Everyone just chose to let me forget my own—” I couldn’t say the word. Couldn’t acknowledge what I’d lost. “Six years? Six birthdays, first steps, first words?”

“We thought we were protecting you.”

“By lying? By watching me live in ignorance? Did you all get together and plan this? Have meetings about how to keep me in the dark?”

“By letting you heal,” Dr. Peters interjected softly. “The mind can only handle so much pain, Angela. Your psyche chose this path for a reason.”

A frustrated woman | Source: Pexels

I dashed out of the hospital as fast as my legs could carry me. Daniel caught up, ushering me into the car. I was a total mess. My fragile heart was shattered beyond repair.

That night, I slept in our guest room, surrounded by the photos.

I studied each one until my eyes burned, trying to force my mind to remember. The way I touched his tiny face. The tears on my cheeks. The love in my eyes.

I pressed my hand against my stomach, trying to imagine him there, growing, moving, being part of me. But nothing came back. Nothing.

A sad woman sitting on the bed | Source: Pexels

“Can we see him?” I asked Daniel the next day.

“We should probably ask Fiona first,” he said, his voice uncertain. “But if you’re sure, I think she’ll be okay with it.”

It took a week to convince Fiona to let us visit. Seven days of negotiations through Daniel, because I couldn’t bear to speak to her directly. Not yet.

How do you talk to someone who has your child? Who took your child?

After countless phone calls and messages, Fiona finally agreed.

A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels

The drive to the countryside was endless. I watched the landscape change through the window, each mile bringing me closer to a truth I wasn’t sure I could face.

Fields gave way to forests, forests to suburbs. All the while, my mind spun with questions.

Would he look like me? Would some part of him recognize me? Would I feel anything at all? Would he come running to me?

Aerial view of a car on the road | Source: Unsplash

Fiona’s house was everything I’d imagined during those sleepless nights. Perfect lawn, flowers in window boxes, a red bicycle leaning against the porch, and a tire swing. Wind chimes tinkled softly and the delicious smell of something cooking wafted in the air.

My legs shook so badly I could barely walk to the door.

Fiona stood there, just as I remembered her from the family pictures. But her eyes were cautious, teary, and guarded, like a watchful mother’s.

“Angela,” she said softly. “Come in.”

A teary-eyed woman looking at someone | Source: Pexels

My gaze swept across the room, searching for the little one who held the key to my forgotten past.

And there he was, peeking around the corner. Dark curls like mine and those familiar eyes. My heart squeezed so tight I couldn’t breathe.

My son! My baby! I longed to scream, to run to him, to hold him tight. But I stood rooted to the spot, numb with heartache.

“Tommy,” Fiona called, “come meet your Aunt Angela.”

A little boy wearing a hat | Source: Unsplash

He approached shyly, a toy dinosaur clutched in one hand. “Hello, Aunt Angela.”

“Hello, Tommy!” I said, his name feeling like a prayer on my tongue.

He studied me with those big, brown eyes, head tilted slightly. “Want to see my room? I have a bunk bed! And a T-Rex that roars when you push its belly.”

“I’d love that, sweetie.”

A woman with her eyes downcast | Source: Midjourney

As he led me upstairs, chattering about his dinosaur collection and his best friend Jake and how he could ride his bike without training wheels now, I felt it.

Not a memory exactly, but an echo. A ghost of what we might have been. Of all the moments I should have had.

Later that night, in our hotel room, I took out the photos one last time. The woman in them wasn’t a stranger anymore. I understood her joy, her pain, and her sacrifice even if I couldn’t remember feeling them myself.

A woman holding a newborn baby | Source: Unsplash

I touched the image of the baby, my finger tracing his tiny photostatic features.

“You okay?” Daniel asked from the doorway.

“No. But I think I will be.”

I slipped the photos back into an envelope. Some memories might stay lost and buried under years of protective fog. But now I had something more precious than memories: I had truth. And somehow, in that truth, I found the peace I didn’t know I’d been missing.

It would take time to fully come to terms with my truth, but this was a step in the right direction.