My first wedding anniversary was supposed to be a joyous occasion, a chance to share the exciting news of my pregnancy with my husband, Ben. I had been looking forward to this day for weeks, counting down the minutes until I could tell him that we were finally expecting a child. But when Ben failed to show up at the restaurant, I was left with a sense of unease that grew into a creeping dread.
As I waited for him, I couldn’t help but think of all the ways he would react to the news. Would he be overjoyed, or would he be nervous about becoming a father? I had imagined the scene playing out like a romantic movie, with Ben beaming with pride and happiness. But as the minutes ticked by and he didn’t arrive, I began to worry.
I tried calling him, but his phone went straight to voicemail. I told myself he must be stuck in traffic or held up at work, but the doubts lingered. When I finally gave up and left the restaurant, I felt a sense of emptiness and disappointment.
As I walked into my empty house, I called out for Ben, but there was no answer. That’s when I saw the note on the kitchen counter, a simple white envelope with my name on it. My heart sank as I read the words: “I did this because of your grandmother. Becca, good-bye forever.”
I was stunned. What did my grandmother have to do with Ben’s disappearance? I felt a wave of panic wash over me as I rushed to her house, demanding answers. When she opened the door, I could see the guilt written all over her face.
“Becca, I did it for your own good,” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “You deserve better than Ben. You deserve someone like Charlie.”
I was horrified. Charlie was the last person I wanted to marry, and my grandmother knew it. But she had always had a strange obsession with him, and now I realized she had been manipulating Ben all along.
“You used blackmail to make him leave me?” I accused, my voice shaking with anger.
“I did what I had to do,” she replied, her eyes cold and unyielding.
I was devastated. The woman I loved and trusted had destroyed my marriage and my happiness. As I turned and walked away from her house, I felt like I was losing everything.
The hours that followed were a blur of tears and desperation. I called Ben over and over, begging him to come home or to tell me where he was. But there was only silence.
As the darkness closed in around me, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might be too late. What if Ben didn’t want to be found? What if he was gone for good? The questions swirled in my mind like a vortex, pulling me down into a abyss of despair.
In that moment, I realized I was fighting for my marriage, my family, and my future. But as the night wore on, I couldn’t help but wonder if I was fighting a losing battle.
