When I married the boy I had loved since childhood, I thought our fairy tale had finally come true. However, everything changed that evening when he handed me a notebook filled with his mother’s hidden truths.
Seeing Michael that morning was the last thing I expected. Walking down Main Street in our old hometown, I was just getting my usual coffee when I saw him. Tall, familiar, with grey hair at his temples, he was standing near the café where we used to hang out after school.
‘Michael?’ I called out, almost uncertainly.
He turned to me, and a broad smile spread across his face. ‘Is it really you?’ he asked, his voice as warm as I remembered. ‘I never thought I’d run into you here again!’
‘I know!’ I said with a laugh. ‘What are the odds?’
We decided to have coffee together, just like in the good old days. Inside the shop, everything was just like in the good old days. The old wooden counters and the smell of fresh pastries. It felt like time had been turned back.
That day, we chatted for hours, reminiscing about everything and nothing. We laughed at old stories, like how we both got lost on a hike, or how we used to pass notes to each other in history class. The hours melted away.
Coffee turned into lunch, lunch turned into a long walk, and before we knew it, we were calling each other every day. There was something so easy, so natural about being around him.
A few months later, Michael proposed. It was simple: just him and me, sitting by the lake in the evening.
‘I don’t want to waste any more time,’ he said, his voice steady but full of emotion. ‘I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?’
‘Yes,’ I whispered, and tears filled my eyes. Two months later, we were married.
Later that evening, after freshening up, I returned to find Michael sitting on the edge of the bed looking… different. His usual easy smile was gone. He was holding a small, worn notebook in his hands.
‘Michael?’ I asked, sitting down next to him. ‘Is everything all right?’
He didn’t look at me right away. His eyes were fixed on the notebook, his fingers fingering the edge. ‘There’s… something I need to tell you.’
The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine. ‘What exactly?’
He took a deep breath and finally met my gaze. ‘This notebook belonged to my mother,’ he said quietly. ‘She kept notes… about our family. About what she thought was important.’
‘Okay…’ I said slowly, not quite understanding.
He handed me the book, and I opened it. Every page was covered in neat, curling handwriting. ‘My family has this… belief,’ he began. ‘A curse, actually. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but they believe it’s real.’
‘A curse?’ I asked, raising my eyebrows, trying to hide my scepticism.
He nodded. ‘My mum says that any woman who marries into this family… is cursed with bad luck. Tragedy. Pain. It’s been that way for generations, or so she says.’
‘Michael, you don’t really believe that, do you?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve always told myself it’s just an old family superstition. But… I’ve seen it all, you know? My father’s marriage to my mother wasn’t exactly smooth sailing. My uncle — well, let’s just say it ended badly for him too.’
I took his hand and squeezed it encouragingly. ‘Listen, it doesn’t mean anything. For many people, marriages are difficult.’
His eyes still looked troubled. ‘Maybe you’re right,’ he said, though there was no conviction in his voice.
First, we had a flat tyre right before we left for our honeymoon, and we couldn’t go anywhere.
‘Just bad luck,’ I told him, forcing myself to laugh.
Things took a strange turn at home. The business I had spent years building began to lose customers. A string of bad reviews appeared on the internet, from people I had never even worked with. I tried everything to fix the situation, but nothing helped. It seemed as if someone had put a curse on my work.
Then someone broke into our house. Nothing important or valuable was stolen, but the psychological damage was done.
Michael noticed it too. ‘Do you think… could this curse be real?’ he asked one evening, lowering his voice.
‘Of course not,’ I replied quickly, although I was already beginning to doubt myself. ‘There must be an explanation for all this. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know… a phase.’
The turning point came shortly before Thanksgiving. Michael’s mother insisted that we celebrate at her house. We discussed the menu over the phone, and she seemed to be in a good mood.
After the call, I put the phone on the sofa and picked up a book, settling down to read. But as I turned the page, I heard voices. The phone was still connected.
‘Do you really think this curse nonsense still works?’ Michael’s father asked irritably.
Without thinking, I immediately pressed the record button.
She laughed. ‘It works every time. Look at her! Her business is already struggling, and Michael is so caught up in his worries that he can hardly think straight. And I’ll put an end to it when I ruin her turkey.’
‘Enough, Marianne,’ he replied. ‘You’ve already scared off enough good women from our sons.’
‘If they’re not right for my boys, I’ll do what I have to do,’ she said coldly. ‘I know what’s best for them.’
My stomach churned. I ended the conversation feeling numb, replaying her words in my head. All these strange things—the flat tyre, the bad reviews—were her doing. There was no curse. It was all a lie, a twisted ploy to control her sons and their wives.
That evening, I sat across from Michael, clutching my phone with trembling hands. ‘Michael,’ I began, ‘I need you to hear something.’
He looked at me, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
I pressed play, and his mother’s voice filled the room.
Michael looked stunned, his eyes darting between the phone and me as he tried to process what he was hearing. ‘This… this must be a mistake,’ he stammered, his voice filled with disbelief. ‘She wouldn’t… my mother would never…’
I took his hand. ‘Michael, I heard everything. She was trying to break us up.’
Finally, he looked at me, his face filled with determination. ‘I need to hear it from her. I need to hear the truth from both of them.’
We arrived at his parents’ house late in the evening. Michael’s father opened the door, looking at us in surprise. ‘Michael, is everything all right?’
Michael pushed past him, his face pale with anger. ‘Where’s Mum?’
His father’s face fell, and he took a step back. ‘Michael, please calm down.’
‘I am calm,’ he said, his voice tense. ‘But I need answers, Dad.’
Marianne looked confused and glanced at her husband, who avoided her gaze. ‘What are you talking about?’
Michael picked up the phone. “I heard you, Mum. You and Dad were talking about the curse. Talking about how you… interfere. Scaring women away, making them think they’re cursed.”
Her face changed from feigned confusion to a hard, calculating expression. ‘Michael, I don’t know what you think you heard, but…’
‘You know what you said, Marianne,’ her father interrupted calmly, leaning forward. ‘There’s no point in denying it.’
She lunged at him, her eyes flashing. ‘Don’t you dare!’
‘Am I not allowed to?’ Her father shook his head, looking tired and worn out. “I kept my mouth shut for years. I watched you drive away every woman Michael or his brothers loved. Watched you lie, sabotage, play with other people’s lives just because you think you know what’s best. It’s been going on long enough.”
Michael’s face crumpled as he looked from his father to his mother. ‘So it’s true?’ he whispered. ‘All of it?’
Tears began to stream down her face. ‘I did it because I love you, Michael.’
He took a step back, shaking his head. ‘That’s not love. That’s control.’
A heavy silence fell over the room. His father spoke next, his voice tired. ‘Michael, I tried to reason with her, believe me. But she… she believes she’s doing the right thing.’
Michael turned to his father, his voice full of pain. ‘And you let her do it? All these years?’
His father lowered his eyes. ‘I was afraid of losing my family. I thought she would stop one day. That you would be strong enough to… break free from it.’
Michael fell silent. Taking my hand, he led me to the door. Outside, he looked up at the stars, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He glanced at me, his voice a barely audible whisper. ‘I’m so sorry. For all of this.’
I squeezed his hand. ‘We’re free now, Michael. That’s all that matters.’
But as we walked to the car, I felt the weight of the past, the sadness of a family torn apart by secrets and my mother’s misguided attempts at love. Michael’s heart would take time to heal, but we were leaving the curse and his mother behind.
