The Landline Call That Changed Everything
While my husband was away on a business trip, something strange happened—our landline rang.
We hadn’t used it in forever. It was that one thing in the house that had turned into a joke. You know, the kind of thing nobody touches unless it’s by accident. Peter and I used to laugh about it. The only people who ever called were telemarketers or scammers, and we’d mess with them just for fun.
Our marriage was like that—fun. We were always laughing. We both used to do amateur comedy in college, so our house was filled with playful teasing and silly jokes. I’d honestly thought I’d hit the jackpot marrying Peter. He was my best friend, and I adored him—immature quirks and all.
Sure, I picked up the slack when he got careless or too laid-back, but it didn’t matter to me. Everything felt right.
Well… almost everything.
We couldn’t have a baby.
We tried. We hoped. We cried. We saw doctor after doctor. Took every test. And every time, the results came back the same—both of us were healthy. No reason we shouldn’t be able to conceive. But month after month, nothing. It started eating at me. I began to think maybe I just wasn’t meant to be a mother.
Peter never gave up, though. “It’ll happen,” he’d say. “We’ll get there.” His faith kept me going.
Then came the last test.
That one hit different.
Peter had left for a “work trip.” Which was weird, because his job never involved travel. He claimed it was a new policy, something temporary. I didn’t question it too much—I trusted him.
But then, the test showed one single, lonely line. Not pregnant. Again.
I sat on the couch, numbing myself with a tub of ice cream and some old ’90s rom-coms, trying not to feel the emptiness.
That’s when the landline rang.
At first, I ignored it. I was not in the mood for spam calls. But then I noticed the voicemail light blinking. Something about it made me press the button.
The message was short. A woman’s voice. Desperate.
“Peter, hi. I know you told me not to call your house, but I haven’t been able to reach you. You were supposed to be here yesterday, and now you’re just ignoring me. He’s waiting for you.”
My stomach dropped.
I stood there frozen, staring at the machine like it had slapped me. I grabbed the phone and hit redial.
A woman picked up instantly. “Peter? Is that you? Why didn’t you come?”
“Who are you?” I said, my voice sharp.
“Oh… I’m sorry,” she stammered—and hung up.
I called again. No answer.
If she hadn’t sounded so startled, I might’ve thought it was just a colleague of Peter’s. But now? No way. Something was off.
I wrote down the number, opened my laptop, and started digging. Women have a sixth sense when it comes to this stuff—we will find out everything.
In no time, I had her name: Olivia. Her social media was public. I scrolled through her pictures. No Peter. Just her and a little boy—maybe three years old. Hunter.
Olivia didn’t look familiar, but the boy… something about him tugged at me. I couldn’t say what it was, but he felt familiar.
Her profile said she was a florist in a town four hours away. I needed answers—and I wasn’t waiting for another voicemail.
Before I left, I called Peter’s boss to double-check the trip. No surprise—there was no business trip.
I packed a small bag, unsure how long I’d be gone, and drove off.
When I arrived at the flower shop, it was just about closing time. I waited in the car, heart pounding. Once Olivia locked the doors, I stepped out and approached her.
“Olivia, hi. You called my house. I need to know who you are.”
Her face turned white. “I’m sorry, you must have the wrong person,” she said quickly, trying to walk away.
“Please. I’m not here to cause trouble. I just want the truth. Woman to woman. If the roles were reversed, what would you do?”
She stopped, stood still for a second, then turned back around. “I don’t want drama. I have a child. I already regret bringing him into this.”
“No drama, I promise. Just talk to me,” I said gently.
She nodded. “Alright. Let’s go to my place.”
We drove there in silence. When we arrived, her nanny was watching Hunter. He was a sweet, energetic little thing. Olivia led me into the kitchen and closed the door.
She sighed deeply. “I don’t even know how to say this. You’re his wife, and I…”
“Just say it,” I said, trying to stay calm. “After years of negative pregnancy tests, I can handle the truth.”
She hesitated, then whispered, “Peter is Hunter’s father.”
I sat back, stunned.
“We never dated. It was just one night. I didn’t know he was married—he took off his ring. I only found out when I told him I was pregnant.”
“One night and you got pregnant?” I asked.
“I know. I didn’t ask for anything. I just wanted Hunter to know who his dad is. But Peter… he kept avoiding it. Then he said he was finally ready, but disappeared again.”
I stared at her. “So he abandoned his child?”
“I never asked for money. I just wanted my son to have a dad,” she said softly. Her voice was shaky, and she looked exhausted.
“Well, guess what? He’s gonna pay. In every way. He’s not getting away with this,” I said firmly.
“I really don’t want any more conflict. I just want peace,” she whispered.
I reached across the table and held her hand. “You’re not alone anymore. We’ll deal with this. Together.”
Just then, Hunter walked into the kitchen. He looked up at his mom with big, hopeful eyes.
“Daddy’s not coming?”
The pain on Olivia’s face crushed me. She didn’t know what to say. So I leaned down and smiled.
“He’s not coming today, sweetie. But he’s going to get you so many toys, you won’t even know where to put them!”
Hunter grinned. “Yay!” And ran off.
Olivia blinked back tears. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Three days later, Peter came home.
I was waiting for him.
“How was the trip?” I asked casually.
“All good,” he said, kicking off his shoes.
“Did everything go according to plan?” I asked again.
“Yep. No issues.”
I nodded slowly. “Funny. Because we’ve been trying to get pregnant for over a year with no luck. But apparently, some woman got pregnant from one night with you.”
His face turned pale. “What? How do you—”
“I’ve seen him. Your son. And thank God, he didn’t inherit your personality.”
Peter’s jaw tightened. “I can explain.”
“Oh yeah? What first? The cheating? Or the part where you abandoned your child?”
“I didn’t cheat that much!” he snapped.
My eyes widened. “So there were others?”
“Uhhh…”
“You unbelievable jerk.”
“What was I supposed to do? Bring the kid here?”
“YES! Or better yet—tell the truth! Be a father! Be a man!”
And then he said it.
“I didn’t even want kids! If I did, I wouldn’t have been slipping you birth control in your tea!”
Silence.
“What… did you just say?” My voice was barely a whisper.
“I didn’t want to lose you,” he said quietly.
I stood there, tears streaming down my face. “You knew how much I blamed myself. How broken I felt. You let me think I was the problem… all this time?”
“I was scared,” he mumbled.
“I thought I knew you. But I don’t even know who you are anymore.”
“Come on, Vanessa. We can fix this.”
“No. We can’t.” I said coldly. “I filed for divorce. And Olivia? She’s filing for child support. Get ready, Peter. Your new life starts now—and it’s going to be hell.”
“You can’t do this to me!” he shouted.
“You did it to yourself,” I said, pointing to the door. “Now get out before I call the police.”
“I’m still your husband!” he growled.
I smiled, calm. “Don’t worry. I’ve got a wild imagination. If I have to, I’ll come up with a reason to have you locked up.”
He stared at me. Angry. Embarrassed. But this time, he didn’t argue. He turned and walked out.
The door closed behind him.
And with that one click, I could finally breathe again.
Peter was gone. And I was done waiting on someone who never showed up.
From now on, I’d be the one who showed up.
For Olivia.
For Hunter.
For me.