When I decided to visit my sick mother-in-law to give my exhausted husband, Jacob, a break, I expected tension. I knew Linda never liked me. I knew she’d probably make some rude comment about my clothes or my cooking. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared me for what I found.
Because Linda wasn’t sick at all.
And when she revealed the truth, my world shattered into a million pieces.
If Jacob wasn’t spending every night taking care of his sick mother… where had he been?
Jacob and I had been married for eight years. Long enough for me to know that his mother, Linda, never thought I was good enough for her son.
She wanted him to marry someone prettier, richer, classier. Not me. Never me.
I spent years trying to win her over. I brought her gifts for the holidays, smiled through her backhanded compliments, and ignored the way she made me feel like an outsider.
But no matter what I did, it was never enough.
Eventually, Jacob and I agreed that it was best if I just stayed away. Less contact, less drama.
Then, about a month ago, Jacob sat me down with an unusually serious expression.
“Mom’s sick, Carol. She needs me.”
His words made my heart skip a beat. As much as she and I had our differences, I didn’t want her to suffer. I listened as he explained that she was really unwell—too weak to cook, barely able to move.
And despite everything, she was his mother. His only family.
Every night after work, he drove an hour to the next town over to take care of her.
I didn’t complain. How could I?
He was being a good son.
And honestly? I felt guilty for not checking in on her myself.
But last week, something changed.
Jacob came home looking beyond exhausted. Not just tired—completely drained.
His face was pale, his eyes bloodshot. He kicked off his shoes, collapsed onto the couch, and groaned like every muscle in his body ached.
“I just need an hour, babe,” he mumbled, already half-asleep. “Then I’ll head to Mom’s.”
I watched him struggle to keep his eyes open. He was running on fumes.
That’s when something inside me shifted.
I felt awful. He was working full-time and spending every night caring for his mother. It wasn’t fair.
So while he was asleep, I made a decision.
I grabbed my purse, picked up some groceries, and drove to Linda’s house, mentally preparing for the usual cold reception. I told myself it didn’t matter if she was rude—she was sick. She needed help.
I knocked on her door, bracing myself.
The door swung open, and my world flipped upside down.
Linda stood there, perfectly fine.
Not sick. Not weak.
She wasn’t even in pajamas. She was fully dressed, makeup on, nails freshly painted.
And before I could even process that, she burst into tears.
“Oh my God!” she sobbed, grabbing my hands. “Carol, what happened?! I haven’t seen Jacob in three months! Is he okay?”
My entire body went cold. My hands trembled as I dropped the grocery bags onto her doorstep.
“What?” I whispered. “What do you mean you haven’t seen him?”
Linda wiped her tears, looking just as confused as I felt.
“I—I thought something happened to him! He just stopped visiting me months ago! He won’t answer my calls. Won’t even text me back—”
My heart stopped.
No. No, no, no.
“He told me he’s been coming here every single night,” I said, shaking my head. “He told me you were sick and needed help!”
Her face twisted in shock.
“Sick? I’m fine! I go to my gardening club every weekend! Carol, what is going on?”
I stepped back, shaking my head. None of this made sense.
Jacob had been driving out every night. I watched him leave. I saw the exhaustion on his face. I heard it in his voice.
Had he been lying this entire time?
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to think clearly.
I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and dialed Jacob’s number.
It rang once. Twice. Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Voicemail.
A deep, gut-wrenching dread settled over me.
Something was wrong.
I looked at Linda. She was still crying.
That meant only one thing.
He hadn’t been visiting his mother. He hadn’t been here for months.
I took a slow, steady breath and made a decision.
“Don’t tell him I was here,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Please.”
Linda nodded. “Okay… I hope everything is fine.”
I turned and rushed back to my car.
The drive home was a blur. My hands gripped the wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. My mind raced through every possibility… an affair, a gambling problem, a second job.
But nothing made sense.
Jacob wasn’t the type to lie. At least, I didn’t think he was.
But then again, I never thought he’d lie about this.
Halfway home, a reckless thought struck me. A desperate, impulsive thought.
If Jacob wasn’t visiting his mother, there was only one way to find out where he had been going.
Instead of going straight home, I parked two blocks away from our house and waited.
Minutes felt like hours.
Then, at exactly 9:15 p.m., Jacob’s car pulled out of our driveway.
My breath hitched. There he is.
I followed him.
Thirty minutes later, he pulled into a quiet suburban neighborhood.
My stomach twisted into knots as I parked down the street and watched.
Jacob walked up to a modest house, knocked twice, and stepped inside without hesitation.
I had no idea who the house belonged to.
I wasn’t ready to find out.
But I had to.
I knocked. Twice.
The door swung open.
A woman in her mid-thirties stood there. She had blonde hair and looked effortlessly pretty in her hoodie and pajama pants.
Her eyes widened when she saw me.
Then, before I could process her reaction, a little boy peeked out from behind her.
He couldn’t have been older than five.
And he had Jacob’s eyes. Jacob’s hair.
That’s when Jacob stepped into view.
“Carol?” His face went pale. “What are you doing here?”
I stared at the boy, then at the woman, then at my husband.
And suddenly, it all clicked.
The exhaustion. The late nights. The distance.
Jacob hadn’t been caring for his sick mother.
He had been here.
With them.
A secret child. A secret home. A second family.
I smiled coldly and turned to the woman.
“Keep him.”
Then, I walked away. And I never looked back.
