Abbie’s world turns upside down when her husband vanishes without a trace, leaving only a cryptic note behind. Days later, a phone call from her mother-in-law reveals a shocking secret that shakes Abbie to the core. Where is Matthew?
“Matthew? This isn’t funny, where are you?” I called out, expecting to hear his voice from another room.
But the house was silent, except for the faint hum of the refrigerator.
My heart started to race as I noticed a note on the kitchen table.
It read, “Don’t search for me.“
I stared at the note, hoping it was a bad joke. Matthew loved pranks, but this felt different. I grabbed my phone and dialed his number, only to hear it go straight to voicemail.
“Matthew, call me back,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “This isn’t funny.”
I called his mom next. “Hi, it’s Abbie. Have you heard from Matthew?”
“No, dear,” Claire replied. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, yes, it is. Sorry, I guess he just went out for a walk.”
I hung up and tried his best friend, James.
“No, Abbie, we haven’t heard from him,” James said, his concern mirroring mine.
Matthew never returned.
The kids kept asking, “Where’s Daddy?”
I didn’t know how to answer them. I finally went to the police, clutching the note in my hand.
“Ma’am, with the note he left, we can’t start a search,” the officer said.
“But he’s missing!” I protested, feeling a lump rise in my throat. “What if something happened to him?”
The officer shook his head. “I’m sorry, but adults have the right to disappear if they want to. There’s nothing we can do.”
I left the station feeling helpless and alone.
I returned home to our cozy suburban house, now filled with an eerie emptiness. I gathered the children in the living room.
“Kids, I need to tell you something,” I began, my voice shaking. “Daddy is… he’s gone away for a while.”
“Why, Mommy?” my youngest asked.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” I replied, pulling her into a hug. “But we have to be strong, okay?”
The days that followed were a blur of tears and unanswered questions.
Every corner of the house reminded me of Matthew.
His favorite coffee mug on the counter, his shoes by the door, the jacket he always wore still hanging in the closet.
I tried to keep things normal for the kids, but it was a struggle. Every time they asked about their father, my heart broke a little more.
Then, one day, I received a call from my mother-in-law.
“If you want to know the truth, promise me you won’t tell Matthew anything,” her voice cracked through the FaceTime call, breaking the silence of the room.
“Promise? What’s going on?” I asked, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach.
“Matthew is here at my house. With his mistress and their newborn baby,” she began.
I was horrified.
“Matthew told me to keep it a secret from you, Abbie,” she continued. “His mistress had nowhere to go, so he brought her here. He’s planning to spend money from your joint account to rent them an apartment. He told me he is going to divorce you and stay with his mistress. She’s… barely 19.”
I felt like the ground had just been pulled out from under me.
My vision blurred with tears as I struggled to comprehend her words.
“He… he’s what?” I stammered.
A woman in tears | Source: Pexels
“I’m sorry for lying to you about his whereabouts and not telling the truth earlier, ” she continued. “I didn’t know what to do since he is my son… I needed some time to think about everything. But you are also family to me and the mother to my grandkids, whom I love dearly. That’s why I decided to tell you the truth. Abbie, you still have time. You can find a lawyer and save your money for the sake of your kids.”
I was shaking, a mix of anger, betrayal, and heartbreak surging through me.
“I can’t believe this,” I said, trying to steady my voice. “Thank you for telling me. I-I need to protect my children and myself.”
Ending the call, I sat in stunned silence, the reality of my situation crashing down on me. Matthew, the man I trusted and loved, was planning to abandon us for another woman.
The kids sensed something was wrong. “Mommy, where’s Daddy?” my youngest asked, her big eyes filled with confusion.
“He’s not coming back, sweetheart,” I said, pulling her into a tight hug. “But we have each other, and we’ll be okay.”
I could hardly believe what my mother-in-law had told me, but I had to keep moving forward for my kids. I immediately contacted a lawyer.
As we discussed my options, I received a call from an unknown number. I hesitated before answering.
“Hi, Abbie? It’s Lisa. I’m the woman Matthew has been seeing. I need to talk to you,” came the voice on the other end.
A chill ran down my spine. “How dare you!” I snapped. “How dare you call me?”
“Please, just meet me. There’s something you need to know, something important. It’s about your family,” she pleaded.
I was seething. I would’ve never agreed to see her face had I not sensed helplessness in her voice.
“Alright. Where do you want to meet?” I asked.
“Do you know that old café on street 8? 6 p.m. Does that work?”
At 6 p.m. sharp, I walked into the café, my eyes searching for her. When I first saw Lisa’s picture, I couldn’t believe Mathew could’ve dated a girl so young.
She was already there at a corner booth.
“Thank you for coming,” she said as I sat down.
“Why did you want to meet?” I asked.
“Matthew told me he was going to leave you, but I didn’t know he was going to abandon you like this. I didn’t agree to any of this,” she began.
“Why should I believe you?” I asked, folding my arms defensively.
She reached into her bag and pulled out a stack of papers.
“These are emails and messages from Matthew. He said horrible things about you, things I know aren’t true. He’s been manipulating both of us.”
I took the papers and began to read.
My hands trembled with rage as I saw the lies and deceit laid bare. “I can’t believe this,” I muttered, shaking my head.
Lisa looked at me earnestly. “He’s planning to take everything from you. But I don’t want any part of it. I want to help you.”
“Why are you doing this?” I asked, stunned.
“Because I didn’t know what kind of man he really was until it was too late. I want to make things right, at least in some small way,” she said, tears welling up in her eyes.
I looked at her, seeing the genuine remorse and desperation in her face. Maybe she was telling the truth.
“Alright,” I said slowly. “If you’re serious about helping, we need to gather as much evidence as we can. I need to protect my children and secure our future.”
We spent the next hour discussing our plan. Lisa shared more details about Matthew’s schemes, and we started forming an unlikely alliance.
It felt strange to trust the woman who had been with my husband, but her willingness to help gave me hope.
The next morning, I sat in my lawyer’s office.
“We need to confront him together. But first, I need to secure my finances and make sure he can’t take anything more from us,” I told my lawyer, Kate.
“With the information Lisa provided, we can freeze the joint accounts and protect your assets,” she assured me.
We went through the details step by step.
Kate filed the necessary paperwork to freeze our joint accounts and secure my assets.
It felt like a race against time, but I knew we had to be thorough.
Every piece of information Lisa had given us was crucial.
One evening, I sat at the kitchen table, paperwork spread out in front of me.
My mother-in-law had come over to help with the kids. She brought me a cup of tea and sat down across from me.
“You’re doing the right thing, Abbie,” she said softly. “I am so sorry for what my son is putting you through.”
“Only Matthew can be blamed for what’s happening, Claire. Nobody saw this coming, not even Lisa,” I replied, sipping the tea. “I’m so grateful to you for your support.”
“You’re stronger than you think,” she said, reassuringly squeezing my hand. “I’m always with you, okay?”
Finally, the day came when everything was in place. I took a deep breath and walked up to my mother-in-law’s door with Lisa by my side. The authorities followed closely behind, ready to enforce the legal actions we had taken.
As we entered, Matthew looked up, shocked to see us.
Abbie, what are you doing here?” he demanded, his eyes darting between me and Lisa.
“It’s over, Matthew,” I said firmly. “We know everything. Your lies, your betrayal, and your plans. You won’t get away with it.”
“What is this? You can’t do this to me!” he shouted, his face turning red with anger.
Lisa stepped forward, her voice calm but resolute. “We already have. You’re not going to hurt anyone else.”
The police officers moved in, presenting the legal documents.
“Mr. Johnson, you need to come with us. You’re being served with a restraining order and an order to vacate the premises,” one of them said.
Matthew looked around, his bravado crumbling. “This isn’t fair,” he muttered, his voice wavering as he tried to find some way to wriggle out of the situation.
“Oh, it’s perfectly fair, ex-husband,” I replied, holding up the divorce papers. “You made your choices, and now you face the consequences.”
As the officers escorted him out, a wave of relief and exhaustion washed over me. I turned to Lisa and my mother-in-law, who stood by my side, their support unwavering.
“Thank you,” I said, tears of relief streaming down my face. “I couldn’t have done this without you two.”
I was crying again, but they were tears of hope and gratitude this time. It was time to rebuild and move forward.
What would you have done?
If you enjoyed this story, here’s another one: Harry was shocked when medical tests revealed the twin boys he had raised as his sons weren’t his. Furious, he went home to confront his wife, only to learn a truth that would ruin their family forever.
My Neighbor Installed a Toilet on My Lawn with a Note, ‘Flush Your Opinion Here,’ After I Asked Her Not to Sunbathe in Front of My Son’s Window
When I politely asked my neighbor to stop sunbathing in bikinis in front of my teenage son’s window, she retaliated by planting a filthy toilet on my lawn with a sign: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!” I was livid, but karma delivered the perfect revenge.
I should’ve known trouble was brewing when Shannon moved in next door and immediately painted her house purple, then orange, and then blue. But I’m a firm believer in living and letting live. That was right up until she started hosting bikini sunbathing spectacles right outside my 15-year-old son’s window.
A woman lying on a lounger | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” my son Jake burst into the kitchen one morning, his face redder than the tomatoes I was slicing for lunch. “Can you… um… do something about that? Outside my window?”
I marched to his room and peered out the window. There was Shannon, sprawled out on a leopard-print lounger, wearing the tiniest bikinis that could generously be called dental floss with sequins.
“Just keep your blinds closed, honey,” I said, trying to sound casual while my mind raced.
A woman opening curtains | Source: Pexels
“But I can’t even open them to get fresh air anymore!” Jake slumped against the bed.
“This is so weird. Tommy came over to study yesterday, and he walked into my room and just froze. Like, mouth open, eyes bulging, full system shutdown. His mom probably won’t let him come back!”
I sighed, closing the blinds. “Has she been out there like that every day?”
“Every. Single. Day. Mom, I’m dying. I can’t live like this. I’m going to have to become a mole person and live in the basement. Do we have Wi-Fi down there?”
A teenage boy frowning | Source: Midjourney
After a week of watching my teenage son practically parkour around his room to avoid glimpsing our exhibitionist neighbor, I decided to have a friendly chat with Shannon.
I usually mind my own business when it comes to what people do in their yards, but Shannon’s idea of ‘sunbathing’ was more like a public performance.
She’d lounge around in the skimpiest of bikinis, sometimes even going topless, and there was no way to miss her every time we stood near Jake’s window.
A woman sunbathing | Source: Pexels
“Hey, Shannon,” I called out, aiming for that sweet spot between ‘friendly neighbor’ and ‘concerned parent’ tone of voice. “Got a minute?”
She lowered her oversized sunglasses, the ones that made her look like a bedazzled praying mantis. “Renee! Come to borrow some tanning oil? I just got this amazing coconut one. Makes you smell like a tropical vacation and poor life choices.”
“Actually, I wanted to talk about your sunbathing spot. See, it’s right in front of my son Jake’s window, and he’s 15, and—”
“Oh. My. God.” Shannon sat up, her face splitting into an unnervingly wide grin. “Are you seriously trying to police where I can get my vitamin D? In my own yard?”
A furious woman | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not what I—”
“Listen, sweetie,” she cut me off, examining her hot pink nails like they held the secrets to the universe. “If your kid can’t handle seeing a confident woman living her best life, maybe you should invest in better blinds. Or therapy. Or both. I know this amazing life coach who could help him overcome his repression. She specializes in aura cleansing and interpretive dance.”
“Shannon, please. I’m just asking if you could maybe move your chair literally anywhere else in your yard. You have two acres!”
A startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully, then reached for her phone. “Let me check my schedule. Oh, look at that! I’m booked solid with not caring about your opinion until… forever.”
I retreated, wondering if I’d somehow stumbled into an episode of “Neighbors Gone Wild.” But Shannon wasn’t done with me yet. Not by a long shot.
Two days later, I opened my front door to grab the newspaper and stopped dead in my tracks.
There, proudly displayed in the middle of my perfectly manicured lawn, was a toilet bowl. Not just any toilet. It was an old, filthy, tetanus-inducing throne, complete with a handwritten sign that read: “FLUSH YOUR OPINION HERE!”
I knew it was Shannon’s handiwork.
A toilet with a sign installed on the lawn | Source: Midjourney
“What do you think of my art installation?” her voice floated over from her yard. She was perched on her lounger, looking like a very smug, very underdressed cat.
“I call it ‘Modern Suburban Discourse.’ The local art gallery already wants to feature it in their ‘Found Objects’ exhibition!” she laughed.
“Are you kidding me?” I gestured at the porcelain monstrosity. “This is vandalism!”
A shocked woman | Source: Midjourney
“No, honey, this is self-expression. Like my sunbathing. But since you’re so interested in giving opinions about what people do on their property, I thought I’d give you a proper place to put them.”
I stood there on my lawn, staring at Shannon cackling like a hyena, and something inside me just clicked.
You know that moment when you realize you’re playing chess with a pigeon? The bird’s just going to knock over all the pieces, strut around like it won, and leave droppings everywhere. That was Shannon.
I crossed my arms and sighed. Sometimes the best revenge is just sitting back and watching karma do its thing.
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
The weeks that followed tested my patience. Shannon turned her yard into what I can only describe as a one-woman Woodstock. The sunbathing continued, now with an added commentary track.
she invited friends, and her parties rattled windows three houses down, complete with karaoke renditions of “I Will Survive” at 3 a.m. She even started a “meditation drum circle” that sounded more like a herd of caffeinated elephants learning to Riverdance.
Through it all, I smiled and waved. Because here’s the thing about people like Shannon — they’re so busy writing their own drama that they never see the plot twist coming.
And oh boy, what a twist it was.
People at a party | Source: Unsplash
It was a pleasant Saturday. I was baking cookies when I heard sirens. I stepped onto my porch just in time to see a fire truck screech to a halt in front of my house.
“Ma’am,” a firefighter approached me, looking confused. “We received a report about a sewage leak?”
Before I could respond, Shannon appeared, wearing a concerned citizen face that deserved an Oscar. “Yes, officer! That toilet over there… it’s a health hazard! I’ve seen things… terrible things… leaking! The children, won’t someone think of the children?”
A firefighter holding a fire extinguisher | Source: Pexels
The firefighter looked at the bone-dry decorative toilet, then at Shannon, then back at the toilet. His expression suggested he was questioning every life choice that led him to this moment.
“Ma’am, making false emergency reports is a crime. This is clearly a lawn ornament,” he paused, probably wondering why he had to say a phrase like that as part of his job.
“A dry lawn ornament. And I’m a firefighter, not a health inspector.”
A firefighter staring at someone | Source: Pexels
Shannon’s face fell faster than her sunscreen coverage rating. “But the aesthetic pollution! The visual contamination!”
“Ma’am, we don’t respond to aesthetic emergencies, and pranks are definitely not something we respond to.”
With that, the firefighters left the property, but karma wasn’t finished with Shannon. Not by a long shot.
An angry woman gritting her teeth | Source: Midjourney
The fire truck drama barely slowed her down. If anything, it inspired her to reach new heights. Literally.
One scorching afternoon, I spotted Shannon hauling her leopard-print lounger up a ladder to her garage roof. And there she was, perched up high like some sort of sunbathing gargoyle, armed with a reflective tanning sheet and what looked like an industrial-sized margarita.
I was in my kitchen, elbow-deep in dinner dishes, and wondering if this was the universe’s way of testing my blood pressure when the sound of chaos erupted outside.
Close-up of a woman sunbathing | Source: Pexels
I heard a splash and a screech that sounded like a cat in a washing machine. I rushed outside to find Shannon face-down in her prized petunias, covered from head to toe in mud.
Turned out that her new rooftop sunbathing spot had met its match — her malfunctioning sprinkler system.
Our neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, dropped her gardening shears. “Good Lord! Shannon, are you trying to recreate Baywatch? Because I think you missed the beach part. And the running part. And the… well… every part.”
Shannon scrambled up, caked in mud. Her designer bikini was now accessorized with grass stains and what appeared to be a very surprised earthworm.
A shocked woman with mud on her face | Source: Midjourney
Following the incident, Shannon was as quiet as a church mouse. She stopped sunbathing in front of Jake’s window, and the dirty toilet bowl on my lawn disappeared faster than a magician’s rabbit.
Shannon invested in a privacy fence around her backyard, and our long suburban nightmare was over.
“Mom,” Jake said at breakfast the next morning, cautiously raising his blinds, “is it safe to come out of witness protection now?”
I smiled, sliding him a plate of pancakes. “Yeah, honey. I think the show’s been canceled. Permanently.”
A teenage boy smiling | Source: Midjourney
“Thank god,” he muttered, then grinned. “Though I kind of miss the toilet. It was weirdly starting to grow on me. Like a really ugly lawn gnome.”
“Don’t even joke about that. Eat your pancakes before she decides to install a whole bathroom set!” I said, sharing a hearty laugh with my son as we looked at the wall around Shannon’s yard.
Window view of an empty yard | Source: Pexels
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.
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