Maggie had finally accepted that her husband had vanished on a solo trip four years prior. Maggie felt a surge of hope as their ancient family dog unexpectedly appeared, holding her husband’s faded jacket in its mouth. She followed the dog into the forest, motivated by something beyond reason, and discovered a truth beyond her wildest dreams.
I recall the day Jason departed like it was yesterday. He’d been fighting a bad attitude for months, yet this morning he appeared almost calm. He informed me he wanted a day alone in the mountains with Scout, our beloved black Labrador. Our children, too young to understand, were content simply watching their father scratch Scout’s ears, his first smile in weeks breaking across his face.
“Are you sure you don’t want company?” I inquired as I carried our toddler son, Benny, while our four-year-old daughter, Emily, squeezed my leg.
But he never returned.
The hunt began as soon as he failed to return that night. Friends, neighbors, and search teams explored the forest, shouting out his name, their voices echoing in the vast woods. Weeks passed, and everyone began to look at me with a horrible combination of sympathy and helplessness. After months, they proclaimed him legally de:ad, which I had no choice but to accept, though I was never completely at peace with it.
Life continued on. Jason’s hiking boots remained by the door, and his coffee mug, which had a chip on the rim, was never moved. When the kids asked about him, I’d tell them stories and do my best to keep his memory alive.
Then, on a calm Saturday, as I lay on a blanket watching the kids play in the backyard, I observed movement in the bushes. It was a thin, scruffy dog with a matted and muddy coat. At first, I did not recognize him. But then my heart skipped a beat. It was Scout. After all these years, here he stood, old and fragile but unmistakable.
“Scout?” I whispered, and as if in response, he took a step closer, a familiar green jacket dangling from his mouth—Jason’s favorite hiking jacket. I barely had time to process before Scout turned and started trotting toward the trees. Driven by a mix of hope and fear, I told the kids to stay put and followed.
Through the winding paths, over damp leaves and under low-hanging branches, Scout kept leading me deeper into the forest. And just as the sun began to dip below the trees, we came upon a small, weathered cabin nestled into the woods, almost camouflaged against the thick trunks and greenery.
Inside, moving around as if he’d never left, was Jason.
His hair was long and knotted, with a scruffy beard covering his face, and he appeared to be at ease in his alone. But he wasn’t alone—a woman stood alongside him, close and comfortable, as if they had a life together. My pulse hammered as I grasped the scope of Jason’s secret life.
I pushed open the door, and the creak startled both of them. Jason’s eyes widened, his face a mixture of amazement and acceptance.
“Maggie…” he murmured, his voice too calm and nonchalant.
“Jason,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. I looked to the woman next to him, then back at him. “What is this?” I asked, unable to believe what I was seeing.
His response dashed any hope I had left: “I found something real here, something I couldn’t have back there.” He looked to the woman next him and said, “Sarah and I have built a simple, meaningful life.”
His words felt prepared and hollow. Every reason he offered only fueled my sense of betrayal. I’d been grieving him for years, raising our children alone, convinced that he was no longer with us. And now, here he was, rationalizing a full abandonment that had ruined the life we had created.
Without saying another word, I turned and walked away. The guy I had loved, the father of my children, was a ghost I no longer recognized.
The next morning, I sat across from a lawyer, feeling stronger than I had ever been. “I want a divorce,” I replied, “and I want support for our children.”
That day, I let go of the life I’d been holding onto. I realized that Jason had chosen one route, but I had to construct my own, one based on love, honesty, and stability. I would shield my children from a world full with false promises, and I would never look back.
10+ People Who’d Really Like to Restart Their Unfortunate Day
Statistics show that people who believe in bad luck will have more accidents on Friday the 13th. Our brains also seem to only hold onto the ill-fated times — like when we drop an egg on the floor, that memory will stay with us for quite some time, even if we successfully didn’t drop it hundreds of times.
Shared sorrow is half a sorrow, and on this note, Bright Side found 17 people who would like to push the “undo” button on their terrible day.
1. “This tree fell and pulled the whole lawn up with it.”
2. “My friend’s car was squished by a tree earlier today after some high winds.”
3. “Started a new job and was told they recycle their earplugs at the end of every shift. I think I’ll just go buy my own.”
4. “I dropped my deep fat fryer on my wooden floor.”
5. “We had a huge storm the other day, and this happened to my friend.”
6. “The watermelon I grew”
7. “That’s my luggage, and it’s not on the plane.”
8. “I have a shy bladder and walked into my worst nightmare.”
9. “The one time I decided to drive instead of ride my bike, this happened halfway to work.”
10. “All I wanted was to make myself some orange juice.”
11. “How my friend’s Friday the 13th started out”
12. “I’ve seen it happen in movies but never dreamed I would see it in real life.”
13. “Just so you know, a 10-foot pipe does not fit in a Toyota RAV4.”
14. “Ate a huge bag of trail mix for about 1 month. Got to the bottom and found 3 rusty screws.”
15. “If you were a cat, there’s a 9/10 chance you’d be named ’Socks.’”
16. “My bedroom ceiling collapsed.”
17. “Tenants called today to tell me the toilet wouldn’t flush, the plumber turned up to this.”
What’s worse — a sock sliding down inside one of your shoes or wearing wet socks? How do you spoil yourself on those days when nothing seems to go right?
Leave a Reply