Chapter 1

I’ve been married to John Peterson for three years now, and I thought being with him would bring me a simple, peaceful happiness.

But three years in, life feels like a complete mess.

Before we got married, I had plenty of admirers. John worked with my company on business projects, and through our interactions, I got to know him better.

He came from a small town, worked hard to get into college, and managed to build a life for himself in the city.

His kindness and down-to-earth nature made me believe he was the dependable man I had been looking for.

After we got married, I started to see things more clearly. His "nice guy" demeanor came from years of living under his mother’s controlling rule.

Over time, he developed the habit of prioritizing her every word as gospel, making him indecisive and lacking the backbone to take responsibility.

Half of his paycheck went straight to his mother every month. She called it "helping him save for the future."

When we decided to buy a house, I suggested using his savings for the down payment. He hesitated and mumbled, “The money’s with Mom—it’s not easy to take out.”

That’s when I realized—once his money went into her hands, it wasn’t coming back.

Chapter 2

One evening, after dinner, we were sitting on the couch watching TV, as usual.

His mom called. The conversation quickly turned into her asking us for $25,000.

Apparently, John’s Aunt Helen’s house in the countryside was falling apart. The roof leaked every time it rained, and she needed money to fix it.

John glanced at me uncertainly as his mom started laying on the guilt.

“John, can’t you help your aunt out? Life in the countryside is tough, and they depend on this house to keep a roof over their heads, you know?”

I whispered to him to explain that we were under a lot of financial pressure ourselves, with a mortgage and car payments. If necessary, we could lend his aunt $5,000, but no more.

His mom wasn’t satisfied. She kept pressing.

“I know young people these days have it hard, but family is about helping each other…”

Under her relentless guilt-tripping, John caved and agreed.

When he hung up, I stared at him in disbelief. He avoided my gaze, his expression uneasy.

This aunt? We see her maybe once a year. And she had the nerve to ask for $25,000, as if we were sitting on a pile of cash?

I swallowed my anger, taking a sip of my now-cold coffee to calm myself.

Chapter 3

A few days passed, and John didn’t bring up the subject again. I assumed the matter had quietly been dropped—after all, his paycheck was still under his mom’s control.

Surely, he wouldn’t touch my savings for this.

Then came the weekend. I was at the mall buying clothes when my card was declined at checkout.

Confused, I double-checked my balance. There had been over $25,000 in the account just days ago. How was it suddenly empty?

Frantically, I scrolled through my bank transactions and found a transfer—$25,000—to none other than John Peterson.

I called him immediately. He fumbled over his words, stammering until he finally admitted what he’d done.

He had used my phone to transfer the money to his account and then sent it to his aunt.

“Babe, don’t be mad! I promise Aunt Helen will pay us back soon,” he pleaded, his voice thick with guilt. “I just didn’t want you to worry, so I didn’t tell you...”

“Didn’t want me to worry? So that gives you the right to steal my savings?” I shouted, furious.

“John Peterson, I can’t believe I trusted you!”

To make up for his mistake, John suggested we go out to dinner—his attempt to smooth things over.

During the meal, he kept apologizing, swearing it would never happen again.

I was almost ready to forgive him when his phone rang. He glanced at the screen, and his face changed.

“Work emergency,” he muttered before rushing off, leaving me alone at the table with a feast I no longer had the appetite for.

That night, he came home reeking of alcohol.

“Babe, I’m sorry for making you worry,” he slurred, stumbling toward me. “After work, Robert Green’s wife called me—she said he was threatening to jump off the roof after they had a fight. I had to go talk him down. Then Robert dragged me out for a couple of drinks to blow off steam.”

Robert Green was John’s childhood buddy, a name that often popped up in his stories about growing up.

As he spoke, he took off his jacket, revealing the shirt underneath. That’s when I noticed a faint lipstick stain on his collar.

The sight of it sent my mind racing. His recent behavior suddenly made sense.

Wow. He really came up with two stories in one night.