Man Spots His Wife Leaving Office and Heading to Backstreet Looking Back Nervously – Story of the Day

After noticing that his wife had left her keys at home, Eric went to the gallery where she worked and saw her leaving. He wanted to call her, but she looked around nervously until she turned to an alley. Confused, Eric followed silently and saw her. Afterward, he made a choice that ruined more than just their marriage.

After putting on his suit jacket, Eric went to their door, where they had their shoes. They also kept all their keys in a bowl on a table nearby.

He frowned when he saw Heather's work keys in the bowl after fishing for his own. She was the manager of a local art gallery and was great at it due to her attention to detail.

Leaving her keys was completely uncharacteristic of her, but it also allowed him to be spontaneous.

Eric pulled out his phone and worked into returning to his boss about being sick. He smiled as he hung up after fake coughing and thought about the day he would have with Heather. They hadn't played hooky in a long time and deserved it.

He drove to her gallery, stopping only to pick up some of her favorite flowers from the local florist. The universe was on his side because there was a nice little spot just a few cars down from the gallery entrance, and he had just parked and taken off his seat belt when Heather stepped outside.

Someone else must have opened the gallery for her, but he would still surprise her. However, Heather was not her usual smiling self. She had produced a tiny mirror and was putting on her lipstick. Then, she looked both ways and back into the gallery for a few seconds before pouting her lips and walking ahead. It was away from Eric's car, so he had to get out.

However, something in his gut told him to stay hidden, not alert her that he was coming. She looked back and forth, and Eric saw her licking her newly-painted lips again before finally turning towards a dark, secluded backstreet.

Eric knew there was a back entrance to the gallery from that side, but it didn't make sense since she exited from the front door. His chest started pumping for some reason, and he walked quickly.

The scene before him was something he never expected. His beautiful wife certainly could've been a femme-fatale, but that wasn't her personality. She was logical and sometimes even shy. She had only dated a few people before Eric. But it wasn't serious, and they had been married for almost 15 years.

Both were now in their mid-40s, and their marriage was just as hot as ever. At least, that's what Eric believed until that second when he saw Heather with her hands and legs wrapped around a much-younger man who held her against the building wall.

Eric wanted to look away, but it was impossible. He was locked, almost forced, into watching their passionate embrace coupled with moans of pleasure, moans he knew so well from Heather. Finally, he forced his head to turn and his feet to return to his car.

He sat in complete silence, with only the resonating sounds of his heavy breathing and the pounding of his heart pumping through his ears. His mind started justifying what he had just seen. This young man must have seduced Heather. He looked like an artist. Perhaps, he had blackmailed her, but that didn't seem possible.

Eric was forced to admit to himself that Heather had been enjoying herself. But why? Why would she do this when their marriage still flamed hot? Their intimacy had not wavered despite their age or their years together.

Am I not enough? he wondered, leaning his head on the steering wheel. What am I going to do now?

Eric didn't know the answers to those questions. But he knew he wouldn't be able to rest if his wife saw him day in and day out at work. It would kill him. "What can I do?" he whispered in his car, hitting the steering wheel once in frustration. At last, he came up with a plan.

His wife had still not left that alley, but he couldn't stay there anymore. Finally, he turned the ignition on and drove off, not caring if they were still wrapped around each other. Eric threw the fresh flowers somewhere along Ontario Street in Chicago and went home.

***

After calling one of Heather's workers and lying about Heather needing something, Eric found out the man's address and name. David. He was, in fact, an artist who had just been invited to expose his art in the gallery.

He told Heather he was meeting friends for drinks but went to David's apartment. There was no elevator, so he walked up to the fifth floor, getting angrier and more tired as he went. Finally, he knocked hard on his door.

The younger man with his hipster clothes and ridiculous ponytail opened the door and raised his eyebrows. "Can I help you with something?" David asked, confused.

Instead of speaking, Eric just strolled in, his brow furrowed, as he looked around David's crappy apartment, covered in paint splotches, canvases, used brushes, and more. He scoffed at the sight and almost wanted to spit on the floor but restrained himself. He was better than David.

"Hey, man! What the hell?" David demanded, reaching for his pocket.

"Don't you dare call anyone," Eric finally spoke. His tone was low, even, and menacing. "I know what you've been doing, David. Didn't you see a ring on her finger? I saw you."

David took his hand from his pocket and looked into Eric's eyes before finally smiling. "Ah, you're the husband," he said, crossing his arms arrogantly.

"Yes, I'm the husband," Eric said, tight-lipped. His menacing tone failed, but he needed to keep the facade going.

"Listen, man. I did nothing Heather didn't ask for," David stated, raising his hands defensively.

Eric was determined not to lose his temper. He was tired from walking up the stairs. He was tired and defeated from discovering his wife's affair. He had never been a man of confrontation. He had tried to channel tough men from movies like Liam Neeson or Al Pacino. He wasn't quite succeeding at that.

"Listen, I have some money. You're a starving artist, right? Take the money and leave my wife alone," Eric said through tight lips.

David pursed his lips. "I don't know. How much?" he asked casually. But then, he smiled cruelly. "You know what? No. She's fantastic, dude, and I can't wait to have her again. Nothing better than an unsatisfied older woman to make you feel alive."

David's words sparked something in him that Eric didn't know was there. Almost without thinking, his hands went up and ran to the artist, grabbing his shirt and lifting him from the floor. "What did you say? WHAT DID YOU SAY ABOUT MY WIFE?" he spat on David's face, shaking him with all his strength.

David didn't cower as Eric hoped. "Hey, man. If she were getting it good at home, she wouldn't have come to me… she begged for more," David whispered, baiting him. "I even have messages from her wanting to meet again. I can show you my phone before I call the police to get you the hell out of my house!"

Eric slammed the younger man into the wall and braced himself, pulling his arm back and connecting with David's jaw. "YOU WILL NEVER GET CLOSE TO MY WIFE AGAIN!" he shouted, feeling the sting on his fist.

David's body leaned to one side until he spat blood on the floor and straightened up. Suddenly, his mouth opened in a yell as he rushed to Eric quickly, planning to start a fight. But Eric was ready. The adrenaline pumping and bracing him for a fight.

He grabbed David's hands, preventing him from punching back, and grappled until Eric used all his strength to push him off. David fell back, slipping over a few cans of pain. He couldn't find purchase to stop his descent, and on the way down, his head connected with the corner of a sharp coffee table. Finally, there was a dull thud as his body slumped on the floor.

"Stop pretending. Get up," Eric said, breathing hard. But he got closer when the artist didn't move or say anything. At last, he saw the blood spurting from his head and flowing plentifully through the floor.

"No, that's paint, right?" he said. The words had just escaped, but Eric realized it was wishful thinking. He knew it wasn't paint.

David's body was not moving at all. He had to lean down and check his neck with his fingers, but he knew what he would find, or more accurately, what he wouldn't find: a pulse.

Eric jumped back and walked back. He saw the open door, and his first instinct was to run off. However, if they found David's dead body, they could trace it back to him. So, he followed his second instinct and closed it. Then, he yelled out an expletive and started pacing the apartment.

His breathing wouldn't normalize, and his adrenaline made him shake like a frightened bird as he pulled out his phone. But looked at the dark screen and shouted, "WHO AM I GOING TO CALL?"

He obviously couldn't call the police. He had just killed his wife's affair partner. This was manslaughter, but Eric had come to the apartment specifically to look for David. They might try to charge him with first-degree murder.

He leaned against the wall and fell swiftly to the dirty floor while his body shook for a long time, but after a while, everything shut down.

***

Eric woke up at around 2 a.m. because his phone was ringing. He sat up, ended the call, and noticed she had called several times in the past few hours. He didn't want to talk to her in that state, so instead, he pulled up the messages, pretending to be one of his friends, Michael.

Hey, Heather. Eric got drunk, and I took him to my house. Sorry I didn't write sooner. Don't worry about him, Eric wrote, hoping that Heather would believe that stupid lie.

Eric turned after pulling his phone away to see David's body in the same spot. He couldn't stall any longer or act like this wasn't happening. This was real. He had killed David, and he had to do something about it. He acted quickly, sloppily, and nervously, but it was his best.

He wrapped the body in blankets and exited the apartment, hoping no one would be around since it was way past midnight. The universe must've been on his side because no one was around. He reached his car and placed the body in the trunk.

Eric got in his car and drove around for what seemed like a long time. He passed an area with nightclubs and saw everyone laughing, which only made him wrap his hands tighter around the steering wheel. His body was unnerved again, and he wanted to get things done quickly.

At last, he reached a huge open park. He got out and wandered around, scouting the area for people. There was no one, so this was his only chance. He grabbed the body and ran to the cover of several trees, where he began to dig with a tiny shovel he had bought for gardening and had somehow forgotten in his car.

He used his full strength to go quickly, but he knew it had to be deep. But he had to stop several times and breath and try to settle his aching body. He had no idea if the moisture on his face was sweat or tears, or both. But he screamed and sobbed as he worked until the hole was deep enough.

Something startled him. At first, he thought someone had caught him, but then he realized it was a beep coming from within the blankets.

"Argh!" Eric stated, removing the sheets and digging for David's phone. It was a message from Heather, and Eric had to brace himself before he opened it. The idiot artist didn't have a password or anything, so Eric opened their conversation.

David, I can't do this anymore. I love my husband. I don't know what happened. Please, don't contact me again. If you need anything from the gallery, talk to Sandra. She'll be your liaison. Goodbye, Heather had written.

Eric stared at the message wide-eyed and started laughing hysterically but quietly. He kicked a nearby tree and shook his body as he shouted expletives under his breath. He wished he hadn't played hooky and tried to visit Heather at work that day, but it was too late. There was no going back. So, he pulled away from the tree, wrapped the body tightly again, and threw it into the hole, covering it back with the dirt.

His shoes pounded as he stepped on the dirt, trying to make it seem like it wasn't freshly dug. He grabbed some fallen leaves, trying to cover some more. But he had to leave at some point at some point. It was almost daylight.

He stood up, breathed through his clogged nose, wiped his forehead, and walked to his car. Luck was again on his side because no early birds were running, exercising, or anything. But when he began driving, he realized he couldn't go home yet.

He was supposed to be at Michael's house, so he went to a cheap hotel, bought some clothes at the gift shop, got a room, and locked himself in the bathroom, letting the water run over his body for a long time.

Eric let out more tears against the shower wall, despairing at his actions and not understanding how his instinct wasn't to turn himself in. It was to hide everything and pretend it didn't happen. He waited another hour and went home, stopping at Heather's favorite florist.

He would beg her for forgiveness for "getting drunk with the boys."

***

"I would like to raise a toast to my beautiful wife, the love of my life," Eric said, raising his champagne glass and looking at Heather with pure adoration. "I don't know what I would do without you."

Heather also raised her glass and clinked it with Eric's. "I can't believe it's been 15 years already," she commented after sipping.

"I know. It's been such a blur," he nodded and smiled, only remembering the best memories of their past.

It had been a few weeks since "the incident," and Eric had kept it all to himself. No matter how the guilt ate him, he wouldn't say a word. He also kept quiet about the affair.

Heather had broken it off that night, after all. There was nothing to tell. He told himself many times and looked forward to the future. They were currently at home, but their nine-year-old son, Luke, was away at summer camp.

He had made dinner, lit some candles, set the table, and closed the curtains, creating the perfect atmosphere to celebrate their dinner. A surprise was also waiting for Heather in their bedroom, but they had to enjoy their dinner first.

"So," Heather started. "What did you do today at work?"

Eric ate a bit of his seafood dish and spoke while chewing. "Oh, well. I have a new account, and Mr. Rodriguez wanted us to –"

"I can't!" Heather blurted with no warning, hitting the table with both hands. "I can't do this anymore!"

Eric's eyes were huge as he watched her stand. "Heather, what's wrong? What's going on?" he asked, cleaning his mouth with a cloth napkin and standing too.

"I can't keep lying, Eric," Heather turned to him. Tears had already fallen to her cheeks, and Eric's heart stopped.

She knew. She knows what I did.

"I cheated on you!" Heather wailed and hid her face with her hands.

Internally, he breathed a huge sigh of relief. But he couldn't let her know why it wasn't a surprise. "What? When? Why?" he asked, stuttering slightly.

"It was with this guy… a new artist the gallery hired," Heather said, wiping her face in vain because the tears kept coming. "I've been hiding it for weeks. But Eric, I swear I broke it off. I… we… it was nothing. It meant nothing. I'm so sorry!"

"Heather," he breathed, wrapping his arms around her. "Calm down, honey. Please."

She cried on his shoulders while he rubbed her hair and back gently. After a few minutes, Heather raised her head and stared into his eyes. "Why are you comforting me? Why aren't you angry? I cheated! I ruined everything!" his wife wondered, shaking her head.

Eric still held her and looked directly into her face. "I forgive you," he replied, kissing her cheeks, eyelids, nose, and more.

"Sometimes, we do things accidentally. Without meaning to," he added, not knowing if he was saying it for her or for him.

"Really? You forgive me so easily and just want to move on?" Heather said, smiling in wonder.

“I don't want you to think about it a moment longer. I need to forget it and only focus on us. Our family. He's out of your life anyway," Eric continued.

Heather sighed happily. "I love you, Eric. Thank you so much. I'm–wait," she frowned, realizing what he had just said. "How do you know he's out of my life? How do you know who I cheated with?"

Eric took a deep breath and explained what had happened a few weeks earlier when she had forgotten her keys. "I followed you to the alley and saw you two," he nodded.

"And why didn't you say anything?" Heather asked, ashamed that Eric had known already.

"Because I know you regret it. We have all done something we regret, and we need to forgive, forget, and keep living life," Eric replied, his voice shaking.

Heather stepped away from him slightly. "Eric, what did you do?" she asked quietly but firmly.

"I went to visit him. I was going to offer him money to stay away from you, actually, but things got out of hand," Eric started, realizing how good it felt to get this out of his chest finally. "We started fighting, and I pushed him back. He fell, hitting his head with a table, and there was blood everywhere."

"Oh my God," she covered her mouth.

"Anyway, I fixed it. You don't have to worry about him again," Eric nodded.

"Fixed it? Fixed it how?" Heather asked, removing her hand from his mouth as her eyebrows rose.

"Don't worry. No one will ever find him," Eric continued, shrugging and grinning. "We're fine. We'll be fine. Our secrets are out, and we can finally move on."

He opened his arms, wrapping them around Heather again. His whole body experienced incredible joy after opening up to his wife. They could finally be happy again.

***

Eric only woke up later that night when the tell-tale flashes of blue and red lights from a police car bounced around his bedroom. He sat up, turning on the bedside light, and his eyes moved to their bedroom doorway. Heather's silhouette flanked the bedroom entrance, and he could hear her silent sobs.

"Heather," he breathed, pleading. But she shook her head and walked away slowly. A few moments later, he heard the front door opening.

Eric closed his eyes and plopped back down on his bed, knowing everything was over.

What can we learn from this story?

• Never do things when you're angry or emotional. Serious things can happen when your feelings are fresh, and it's best not to make any decisions in that state.
• The truth will always come out, and you have to face the consequences sooner or later. Eric thought his dark secret would never be discovered and that Heather wouldn't say anything. But he was wrong.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a woman who followed his wife after he noticed her sneaking out every night.

This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone's life. If you would like to share your story, please send it to info@amomama.com.