This was the first Halloween Kate’s daughter would celebrate without her father. Kate still hadn’t moved on from her husband’s disappearance. Seeing her daughter smile again made Kate forget everything. But when she saw the same dress Carl used to make on a different girl, her heart skipped a beat.
It was almost Halloween, and the air was filled with the crispness of autumn. Leaves crunched underfoot outside, and the neighborhood was slowly transforming into a festive, spooky wonderland.
Outside her cozy home, Kate was busy decorating, determined to make everything perfect for her daughter, Holly.
The lawn was already filled with a jumble of decorations — plastic bats, fake cobwebs, and flickering pumpkins.
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Kate stood on a stool, carefully stringing up the bats while Holly followed closely behind, bringing her own items to contribute.
Holly’s enthusiasm made Kate smile, but the little girl had her own unique ideas about Halloween. Holly didn’t quite understand the concept of “spooky.”
Instead of creepy decorations, she carried her favorite pink dolls and a fluffy teddy bear, arranging them carefully on the front porch, right next to the jack-o’-lanterns.
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Kate watched with amusement as Holly placed her toys in a neat line. She admired her daughter’s creativity but knew it was time to explain, yet again, what Halloween was all about.
“Sweetheart,” Kate began, her voice soft, “Halloween is supposed to be spooky, not cute.”
She smiled gently, realizing she had explained this a thousand times, but Holly was only five — she had her own ideas.
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Holly looked up at her mother with wide, curious eyes.
“But why, Mommy? Why does it have to be spooky?” she asked, her tiny hands clutching her beloved teddy bear.
Kate chuckled softly, stepping down from the stool.
“Well, that’s just how Halloween works,” she explained patiently.
“It’s a time when people dress up in costumes and pretend to be scary, just for fun. But it’s okay if we make it a little cute too.”
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Holly still seemed unconvinced, her brows furrowed in thought. But after a moment, she nodded and shrugged.
“Okay, Mommy.” Then, her face lit up. “Can I wear the costume that Daddy made me last year?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Kate’s heart clenched at the mention of Carl, her husband who had disappeared without a trace six months ago.
It felt like a sudden punch to the stomach, wiping the smile from her face.
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For a moment, she froze, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for a bat decoration to hang up.
“No, sweetheart,” Kate said softly, her voice catching in her throat.
“I’ll make you a new costume this year.”
“But I liked Daddy’s costume,” Holly protested, her voice tinged with disappointment.
“Do you think he’ll come back for Halloween?” she added innocently.
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The question hung in the air like a heavyweight. Kate’s heart ached, but she forced a smile, kneeling to Holly’s level and brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“I don’t think he’ll be back, darling,” Kate said, her voice gentle but filled with sadness.
The ache of not knowing what had happened to Carl never left her, but she had to be strong — for Holly.
Later that evening, the excitement in the air was almost tangible.
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Kate knelt before Holly, making sure every detail of her daughter’s new costume was perfect.
Holly could hardly stand still, her small feet bouncing with anticipation, her candy bucket already gripped tightly in one hand.
“Hold still for just one more second, sweetie,” Kate said with a smile, adjusting the hood of Holly’s cape and giving it a final tug to make sure it sat just right.
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“Do you have everything? Your bucket, your flashlight, your cape — everything ready?”
“Yes, Mom!” Holly said, her voice bubbling with excitement. She tugged on her mother’s sleeve impatiently.
“Can I please go now? My friends are waiting!”
Kate couldn’t help but laugh at Holly’s eagerness. The pure joy on her daughter’s face was contagious, and for a brief moment, all the worry and sadness Kate carried about Carl’s disappearance melted away.
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“Alright, go on,” she said, pulling Holly in for a quick hug before letting her go. “Be safe and have fun.”
Holly flashed a wide, bright smile, her eyes twinkling with excitement, before running off to join her friends.
A small group of children, all dressed in colorful costumes, was already waiting at the end of the street, their laughter echoing in the night.
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Kate watched Holly as she disappeared into the sea of costumes, feeling a sense of joy at seeing her daughter so happy.
With a contented sigh, Kate turned back toward the house and started preparing a big bowl of candy for the trick-or-treaters who would soon come knocking.
Before long, the doorbell rang, and the familiar chorus of “Trick or treat!” filled the air.
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Kate greeted each group of children with a warm smile, dropping candy into their eager buckets and laughing at their colorful costumes.
But then, a little girl appeared on the doorstep, and Kate’s smile froze.
The girl was dressed in a cute little coat with a bouncy cape, and for a moment, Kate’s breath caught in her throat.
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The costume looked so familiar — too familiar. It was just like the ones Carl used to make. The same fabric, the same intricate details, and the same bouncy cape.
Kate’s mind raced back to when Carl would sit at the sewing machine, working on costumes for Holly, explaining how to make the cape float just right.
“That’s a beautiful costume you have, sweetheart,” Kate said, her voice trembling slightly as she tried to keep her emotions in check.
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“Where did you get it?”
The little girl beamed up at her.
“My father made it! Do you like it?”
Kate’s heart pounded. “Yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s beautiful… and the cape is bouncy, isn’t it?”
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The girl nodded eagerly.
“My father says it’s better this way.”
Kate was stunned. Could it be? No, it couldn’t. Carl had been missing for so long.
This had to be a coincidence… right? But no matter how much she tried to convince herself, something deep inside her wouldn’t let it go.
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Unable to stop herself, Kate leaned down and gently asked the little girl,
“Would you mind showing me where your house is? I’d love to ask your father how he made that costume. Maybe he can help me make one for Holly.”
The girl smiled, her innocence shining through.
“Sure! I live just a few streets away,” she said, pointing in the direction of her home.
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Kate’s heart raced as soon as she closed the door behind the girl. She couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to this.
Could it really be Carl? After all these months, was he just a few streets away? Her mind was spinning, filled with a mixture of hope and fear.
Without hesitating, she grabbed her coat, threw it over her shoulders, and followed the girl’s directions.
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What if it really was Carl? What would she say? What would he say? As much as she wanted answers, she was afraid of what she might find. Still, she couldn’t turn back now. She had to know.
As Kate approached the house the little girl had described, she felt her breath catch in her throat.
There, standing in the doorway, handing out candy to trick-or-treaters, was Carl. Her Carl.
The man she had loved, the man she had grieved for. He was alive. He was right there in front of her.
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Carl spotted her almost immediately, and his face changed. There was no doubt — he recognized her.
His eyes widened in shock, and for a moment, they both stood frozen, just staring at each other.
Kate’s heart pounded in her chest as she took a few hesitant steps toward him. The only word she could manage to say was, “Hi.”
Carl swallowed hard, his voice barely a whisper.
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“Hi,” he replied, just as quietly.
For a moment, they stood there in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken words and emotions.
Kate could feel a flood of questions bubbling up inside her, but none of them seemed to come out.
Her voice trembled when she finally managed to speak again.
“How have you been?”
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Carl sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as if trying to find the right words.
“I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t want to disappear like that. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you the truth.”
Kate’s heart pounded faster.
“The truth?” she repeated, her voice shaking. “What truth?”
Carl looked away, guilt written all over his face. “I met someone else,” he admitted quietly.
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“Her name is Rachel, and… I fell in love with her. That little girl, she calls me her father now. They’re my family.”
The words hit Kate like a ton of bricks. Her heart shattered. She could barely breathe as the reality of what he was saying sunk in.
“And what about me? What about Holly? We’re your family too,” she said, her voice barely holding back the hurt.
“I know,” Carl said softly, his eyes full of regret. “But I couldn’t live in two worlds anymore. I had to choose.”
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Kate stood in silence, her heart aching with every breath. “And you chose them,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.
“I’m sorry,” Carl said, his voice thick with regret. He looked down, avoiding her gaze. “Is there anything I can do to make it right?”
Kate swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to stay composed. “Just be happy,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “That’s all you can do. We’ll try to be happy too.”
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Before Carl could respond, a woman appeared in the doorway behind him. “Who is this, Carl? What’s going on?” she asked, her voice sharp with suspicion.
“Rachel, please,” Carl began, turning toward her. But Kate had already made up her mind. She didn’t need to hear more.
Without a word, she turned and walked away, her heart heavy but resolute. The Carl she had known was gone. It was time to let go and move on.
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As she approached her house, she saw Holly running toward her, her candy bucket nearly overflowing.
Holly’s smile was bright and full of joy, lighting up the evening. Kate knelt down, wrapping her arms tightly around her daughter.
At that moment, she realized that all she needed was right here, with Holly. It was time to start living again, just the two of them.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: For Lisa, agoraphobia wasn’t just a disorder—it was her entire life. She hadn’t left her apartment in years and lived only by watching other people through their windows. She made up stories about the people she saw in her head, but her life changed when she decided that one of them needed her help.
I Found Out My Husband Rents a House on the Outskirts – My Heart Nearly Stopped When I Visited
My marriage felt like a dream until I discovered my husband was renting a secret house on the outskirts. What I found when I visited unveiled a heart-stopping truth, exposing the dark reality of the man I thought I knew.
For years, I thought my husband Stan and I were living a fairy tale. He was my soulmate, not just a partner I shared the same roof or bed with, and I happily put his wishes first, even delaying having children. Then, one day, a forgotten phone revealed the painful truth: my husband wasn’t who I thought he was.
A young romantic couple under a transparent umbrella on a rainy day | Source: Unsplash
Stan and I met during a press conference in Tokyo seven years ago. We’ve been together ever since, married for five of those golden years. He seemed perfect in every sense of the word.
“Mindy, you wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” Stan once said, collapsing onto our plush sofa after a long day at work. “But seeing your face makes it all better.”
I smiled, settling next to him. “Tell me about it. I want to hear everything.”
Those were the days when we couldn’t get enough of each other.
A couple sitting beside each other in a room | Source: Unsplash
Stan loved me and showered me with precious gifts, but after some time, I got bored of his expensive gifts. I wanted him, his time, and not those materialistic sparkly diamonds or opulent pearls.
“Another necklace?” I once asked, trying to mask my disappointment as I opened the velvet box.
Stan beamed, oblivious to my tone. “Only the best for you, darling.”
I forced a smile, wishing he’d understand that his presence was worth more than any jewelry.
A man putting a pearl necklace around a woman’s neck | Source: Pexels
Stan worked in an office in an amazing position and made good money. But the thing is, he started spending more time at work while I stayed at home, dusting, cooking, and cleaning.
Stan barely had time for me, and I missed those days when we used to Netflix binge, bake together, or even grab some good sleep. Stan started coming home late, and I’d be mostly asleep.
His focus shifted entirely to work, and as his career climbed new heights, our connection dwindled.
A man working on a laptop in his office | Source: Pexels
So while I was already dealing with the heartbreak of Stan not spending time with me, on a fateful morning, right after my husband left for work, I noticed he’d forgotten his phone on the table in a hurry.
I thought he would come back for it, but he didn’t.
I went about my day, doing laundry and refilling the vases with fresh garden flowers when his phone buzzed suddenly. Curiosity overcame me, and I impulsively grabbed it to check the message.
A smartphone on a table | Source: Pexels
Stan had locked his phone, but he didn’t know I had once seen his pattern lock and knew it by heart, though I never snooped into his phone or privacy before.
But something compelled me to check the message after seeing it written in all caps with the words “final reminder.”
So I unlocked Stan’s phone and saw the message: “STAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL REMINDER TO PAY THE RENT FOR THE HOUSE, OR I’LL HAVE TO RENT IT TO SOMEONE ELSE! TOMORROW IS THE DEADLINE!”
Close-up of a woman with a smartphone | Source: Pexels
My hands shook as I read it again. Stan was renting a house? Without telling me? I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.
Just then, he called my phone. “Hey, honey. I left my phone at home. I’ll be home late tonight… important client meeting.”
I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice steady. “Fine!”
As I hung up, I couldn’t help but wonder what Stan was hiding from me.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
The rest of the day was a blur as I obsessively checked the clock. At precisely five o’clock, I hailed a cab, directing the driver to Stan’s office, which I knew closed around half-past five or six.
I didn’t take my car because mine was a yellow Mini Cooper, and I didn’t want to risk Stan finding out I was following him.
“I need to be there a bit early,” I told myself, my heart pounding. “I have to find out what he’s up to.”
A cab on the street | Source: Unsplash
At 6 p.m. sharp, I saw Stan leaving his office and get in his car, driving to the outskirts of the city. Weird.
“Follow that car,” I instructed the driver, feeling like I was in some kind of spy movie.
After what felt like an eternity on wheels, Stan parked outside a small, rundown house and went inside the building.
A house nestled among flower bushes and trees | Source: Unsplash
I asked the cabbie to wait, and gathering my courage, I went after Stan ten minutes later. My hand trembled as I reached for the doorknob.
“Here goes nothing,” I whispered to myself.
I slowly opened the door and nearly lost my breath when I saw Stan sitting on a chair near an easel of painting. What was going on?
I barged inside, and Stan’s face turned pale as though he’d seen a ghost.
“M-Mindy?” he stammered. “What are you doing here?”
Rear view of a man painting on a canvas | Source: Pexels
I ignored his question, my eyes darting around the room filled with canvases and paint tubes. “What on earth are you doing here, Stan? Why did you rent this house?”
Stan didn’t understand how I’d found out until I told him about seeing the message on his phone. He sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping.
“This house is my escape from the daily grind. It’s where I come to refresh and refocus.”
I felt a surge of relief and confusion. “But why didn’t you tell me?”
Grayscale portrait of a shocked woman | Source: Pexels
Shame flushing his face, he averted his gaze. “I was embarrassed about my hobby, given my high-profile job. I feared your teasing.”
I moved closer, my anger softening. “Stan, I’d never laugh at something that makes you happy. But why all the secrecy?”
Although I wanted to believe him, my instincts told me he was still hiding something from me. And I was right.
Just two minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
A man sitting on the couch and covering his face | Source: Unsplash
Stan jumped up, panic flashing across his face. “Mindy, maybe you should go home now. I can explain everything later.”
But I was already moving towards the door. “No, I think I’ll get my answers now.”
“Mindy, wait—”
Stan tried stopping me, but I approached the door and opened it, only to stand back in shock.
Grayscale of a startled woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
A young, beautiful brunette stood in the doorway, chewing bubblegum and eyeing me curiously.
“Who are you?” I asked.
She blew a bubble before answering, “I’m Luke’s girlfriend. He paints portraits of me. And who are you? What are you doing here?”
My world spun. “Luke? Girlfriend?” I sputtered. Then, finding my voice, I declared, “I’m his WIFE! And his name’s STAN! Not Luke!”
A young woman blowing gum bubble | Source: Pexels
The girl’s eyes widened in shock. Before I could process what was happening, Stan rushed past me, pushing the girl away and slamming the door shut.
He turned to me, his face ashen. “Mindy, I can explain—”
I yanked away as he tried to cup my face. “What’s going on, Stan? Who is she?”
My eyes darted around the room, noticing for the first time that all the easels were draped with beige cloth. With trembling hands, I pulled the cloth off the nearest one.
A room full of painting easels covered in beige cloth | Source: Midjourney
My breath caught in my throat. It was a painting of a half-naked woman, the same woman who had just been at the door.
Tears began streaming down my face as I moved from easel to easel, uncovering more paintings.
“Mindy, please,” Stan begged. “It’s not what you think—”
But I was beyond listening. I dropped to my knees, pulling out more canvases from under the bed. They were all the same—portraits of scantily clad women in suggestive poses. And then I found the photos.
A teary-eyed woman covering her mouth | Source: Pexels
“Oh God,” I choked out, staring at images of Stan… my Stan… in compromising positions with these women.
The truth hit me like a freight train. Stan was cheating on me.
“It was a mistake,” he kept saying, his words tumbling over each other. “Some kind of obsession I can’t overcome. Mindy, please—”
But I was already moving towards the door, my vision blurred by tears.
Grayscale of a man covering his face | Source: Pexels
“Mindy, wait!” Stan called after me. “Let me explain!”
I ignored his pleas, stumbling out into the night air. My whole body shook as I got into the cab, Stan’s cries still echoing in my ears.
Overwhelmed, I raced home and frantically packed before seeking refuge at my aunt’s place. The next morning, I called my lawyer and initiated divorce proceedings.
Divorce papers on a table | Source: Pexels
Two weeks have passed since that day. As I wait for the divorce proceedings to begin, I can’t stop shaking.
How could I have shared my life with someone like Stan? How could I have been so blind?
I reported him to the police, shattering his carefully curated public image. It felt like the only way to reclaim some power in this nightmare.
Two cops walking on the street | Source: Pexels
As I sit in my new apartment, staring at the walls, I can’t help but think about how quickly my “perfect” marriage crumbled. It was as fragile as glass, shattering into a million pieces at my feet.
I don’t know how long it will take to heal from these scars. The betrayal runs deep, inflicted by the very man I worshipped, trusted, and loved.
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