My husband Daniel and I have been married for almost two years. We had a pretty amazing life together.
Our beautiful little baby is teething, and as anyone who has ever dealt with a baby knows, that’s a whole other story. However, I questioned whether I had made a mistake when Daniel started acting strangely.
I have always trusted Daniel completely because in my opinion getting married and having a child is not something you do lightly. I had every reason to think he shared my commitment to our family.
However, something has changed recently and I’m not sure what’s causing this unsettling feeling. It started slowly at first.
Daniel was never one to make a big deal about things in the kitchen. The dude barely knows how to make breakfast without making a mess. So you can imagine my surprise when earlier in the week my husband came home late from work with his arms full of freshly cooked cornbread.
“Look what I brought you!” he exclaimed with a big smile as he slipped into the kitchen and placed the bread in front of me. To put it mildly, I was confused. He wasn’t like that at all. Still, the smell of the warm bread was irresistibly tempting, and despite my confusion, I thanked him and kissed him on the cheek. Maybe he was just experimenting, I figured.
When he came home the next evening with another loaf of cornbread and once again boasted that he had cooked it himself in the new cooking class he had taken, my initial gratitude quickly gave way to suspicion. “Two nights in a row?” I thought.
Daniel, who preferred to order takeout before entering the kitchen, found this particularly odd. When I noticed this pattern persisting, I became curious. Daniel came home a few hours later every night that week, but he always had a big loaf of cornbread with him.
He was all too eager to display his culinary creations on the kitchen counter, arranging them like trophies. Not only was this new interest of his startling, but it was starting to look like a front for something else.
My suspicions grew to the point of anxiety on Friday. Daniel came home unexpectedly that afternoon to change into a new shirt before he was supposed to leave for his cooking class. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to allay or confirm my suspicions.
I tried to be as discreet as possible as I slipped out the door after him after a nonchalant goodbye.
He headed around the corner rather than toward his car. When I saw where he was going—that is, how close he was to our neighbor’s house—my interest was replaced by shock.
He knocked on the door and I hid behind a nearby tree.
Our neighbor Alice appeared with a warm smile when the door opened. They embraced each other in a deep, cozy embrace that expressed intimacy and familiarity.
My thoughts were spinning and my mind was racing.
Was that why everything was late? Was it just a diversion from cornbread? The picture in front of me was enough to raise a thousand fears, even if the pieces didn’t quite fit together.
As they disappeared into her house and closed the door, a feeling of dread came over me. What was going on inside? Had my life suddenly taken a bizarre turn towards delusion, or was there a perfectly reasonable explanation? I knew I couldn’t just stand there, but I also knew I couldn’t just go to him. I needed some time to collect my thoughts.
My patience finally ran out when Daniel handed me his seventh loaf of cornbread this week. This gift has been bothering me all week. When we came to eat in the evening, I found it impossible to contain my curiosity.
“Daniel, why are you making so much cornbread?” I asked trying not to cry too much and speak lightly.
He stopped with his fork halfway to his mouth and smiled slyly at me. He said, “I was wondering when you would ask.” Without saying anything, he wiped his mouth with a napkin, pulled out his chair, and headed into our bedroom. My curiosity flared as I followed him, but my heart remained entangled in a web of unanswered questions and resentment.
Daniel leaned over our open sock drawer in the bedroom and took a brief look inside. He pulled out a small piece of folded paper that was torn and somewhat yellowed over time. He handed it to me and said, “Here,” as he sat down on the edge of our bed. When I opened the note, I was greeted with his old writing.
“On our fourth date, you told me that when you were a babysitter you used to make cornbread for teething kids because it was soft on their gums and nice for you too,” I read aloud, stuttering a little as the memories flooded back.
He nodded, something other than nostalgia shining in his eyes, perhaps relief at my answer. “Just in case,” he said, “I wrote it down.” “Just in case I ever need to remember what makes you happy, especially when we’re going to be caring for our own children one day. That message, a memory of a period that I barely registered in my memories, accompanied him for nine years.
“Even though I told you I’m taking lessons, Alice is teaching me how to follow the recipe properly. She’s a fantastic baker, and since I keep my fingers crossed for her, I knew she’d be the one to call for help when I smelled her bread. ” We became good friends during my walk, when you’re not so stressed, she wants to take you out to dinner so she can tell everyone how bad I am in the kitchen.
I was overcome with emotion as I realized that his newfound connection to cornbread was the result of something so kind and meaningful. Meanwhile, I noted that Daniel was using this old memory to help our daughter get through teething.
Cornbread was indeed an incredibly useful food for her. She could gum on it without fear of it falling apart too easily, and it gave her some relief from the pain from her new teeth piercing her gums.
It also has benefits beyond immediate physical relief. It’s true that our daughter slept like a rock, was happier, and had more energy—as if the cornbread was some magical concoction that cured all of her ailments. She often smelled like butter and honey when she was in my arms, the smell of bread lingering as a comforting reminder of her father’s tender care.
I felt a wave of love wash over me as I actually looked at Daniel. He said what I meant, “I value my husband with everything I am,” His face softened, and he came to me and hugged me. He kissed the top of my head and said, “I’m glad that helped.”
That night I felt really comfortable lying in bed with my baby sleeping in the crib and my husband breathing softly next to me. A deep and profound joy in family life replaced the insecurities and anxieties that had momentarily clouded my judgment.
We had cornbread, love, and the humble heroism of a dad who remembered a small moment from a long-ago date and used it to show his teething daughter daily affection.
As it happened, cornbread was much more than just sustenance. It served as a reminder of the small gestures that bind us together and the precious memories we’ve made together – a reflection of the love and support our little family has for each other.
If you witnessed your husband entering another lady’s house, how would you react? Tell us on Facebook!
And while we’re at it, here’s another story about a troubled marriage.
My husband’s desire to cheat on me with another woman was inadvertently revealed to me, so I taught him a life lesson.
My relationship with Mark was a year full of strange things, but the most disturbing thing was that he slept with his phone in his pocket. At first, I dismissed it, thinking it was just his new, expensive phone. But as time went on, he became more and more withdrawn. It was obvious he was hiding something because every time I walked into the room he was writing under the covers and quickly shoved his phone into his pocket.
As we snuggled up on the couch late one cold night, his phone fell out of his pocket and landed between my legs, beeping an alert. I fought the urge to check until the TV episode we were watching ended, but he continued snoring without my knowledge.
When I picked up my phone to charge it, I accidentally saw a notification from a dating app flashing on the screen. The truth hit me hard: I was providing financial support to a man while he spent his time searching through dating apps.
Since Mark was unemployed for a while, I paid all our bills in hopes that he would eventually find employment. Rather, he pretended he wasn’t married and only referred to me as “roommate” while he spent his days on dating apps. I decided not to address him directly because I felt stupid and cheated and it would only give him more opportunities to control the situation.
Rather, I devised a strategy of retaliation. I recruited my friend Lisa to create a fictitious account on the same dating app because she had gorgeous looks that would definitely attract Mark’s attention. Mark dutifully flicked to the right and we began our sly flirtation. He was excited and suggested we meet at a hotel in the city center, which strangely enough I had to pay for as I was in charge of our money.
I began the second phase of my plan as the day of our scheduled meeting approached. The morning he left, I packed up all his possessions and put him on the sidewalk, telling him he was going to see his mother and could stay the night. I then changed the locks. He had been texting a fictitious profile all day, excited, not knowing what to expect.
Instead of having a romantic date that night, I sent him a text message with a photo of his stuff strewn all over the sidewalk. His desperate calls came right away but I blocked him and went to bed to get a good night’s sleep. He lost everything over the weekend and showed up at my door a complete mess, begging me for forgiveness and a place to stay.
I didn’t think twice about calling the police and asking for a restraining order when he became hostile.
I heard he moved on and was able to start turning his life around after that.
Even though it was a horrible experience, I realized how important it is to advocate for yourself. Now freed from the destructive noose that once bound us, I savored my newfound peace and drank coffee in my safe apartment.
Reflecting on these two stories, it is clear that trust and communication are vital in any relationship. The first story demonstrates the depth of love and understanding that can turn a misunderstanding into an affirmation of affection. Despite initial suspicions, the husband’s thoughtful actions and determination to address their child’s needs revealed a deep and sincere devotion that transcended any doubts. The cornbread, a seemingly simple gesture, became a symbol of his love and attention, turning what could have been a crisis into a poignant reminder of their bond.
The second story, on the other hand, emphasizes the harsh reality of betrayal and deception in relationships. The revelation of Mark’s infidelity and his fraudulent behavior led to a carefully orchestrated act of revenge by his partner. This story highlights the importance of integrity and the consequences of dishonesty. While the resolution brought a sense of empowerment and closure, it also serves as a reminder of the personal cost of dishonesty and the value of respecting yourself and your boundaries.
Ultimately, both stories illustrate the complex nature of relationships where trust and transparency are essential. They remind us that despite adversity, our actions and reactions shape our relationships and our lives. These stories reflect the powerful impact of our choices and the importance of maintaining integrity and compassion in our connections with others, whether dealing with issues of misunderstanding or facing betrayal.