After losing my first husband, I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but ended up marrying three times in a row.
In my uncelebrated state, I still kept looking for love, hoping it would come, but one strange thing happened in each marriage that led to divorce.
Three years ago, my husband, Michael, passed away from a sudden heart attack at the age of only 32.
Since losing the first love of my life, much had changed until I visited my mother-in-law’s house and uncovered the shocking truth.
On that fateful day three years ago, one minute Michael and I were having dinner, laughing at his joke about my terrible cooking skills, and the next minute he was clutching his chest and his face contorted in pain!
I called 911, my hands were shaking so badly I almost dropped the phone!
But when the ambulance arrived, it was too late. Losing him broke me.
I walked around for months as if in a fog, unable to comprehend how my life had changed in an instant.
Little did I know that things would get worse.
One minute I had a loving husband, a home full of warmth and laughter, and the next minute I was just…alone.
As time went on, I tried to move forward. I wasn’t looking for love right away, but I also knew that Michael would want me to be happy.
He was always the kind of man who thought life was too short to dwell in sadness.
So, after a while, I allowed myself to start dating again. I didn’t expect to find something serious so quickly, but then I met Ryan.
Ryan was charming, confident, and he made me feel alive again!
He was spontaneous in a way that Michael never was, always taking me on weekend getaways, surprising me with little gifts and making even the most boring moments exciting.
I was surprised when he proposed after only three months of dating!
And despite my doubts, I told myself that maybe love doesn’t have to follow a certain schedule, so I happily said yes.
But barely five months into our marriage, I started noticing strange things.
Ryan suddenly became more secretive with his phone, constantly going out to take calls and leaving it screen down on his desk.
He started staying late at work a lot, and when he came home, he smelled of a faint perfume that I didn’t wear.
I tried to push my suspicions away, telling myself I was just being paranoid.
But then the pictures came.
They came in a plain, unmarked envelope.
Inside were crisp, clear photos of Ryan in a dimly lit restaurant, his hand resting intimately on Blondie’s thigh.
In one photo, they were laughing together, her fingers touching his jaw in a way that felt all too familiar.
I ran into him that night. He didn’t even try to deny it.
‘Look, I didn’t plan for this to happen,’ my husband said, running his hand through his hair.
‘But you were so aloof, always comparing me to Michael…’
‘I never compared you to him!’ – I blurted out, my hands shaking.
Ryan sighed, as if this was something that had happened to him, not something he’d done himself.
‘I just think we rushed things, and maybe we should stop before things get worse.’
I was too stunned to argue.
We divorced quietly, and I tried to convince myself that it was just bad luck.
That not all men were like that.
Luckily, things moved so fast that I didn’t have a chance to fall in love with him.
Then I met Jason.
Jason was different.
He was kind and patient, a teacher who worked with special needs kids.
He had the warmest brown eyes and a steady, calming presence that made me believe I could trust again.
We went slowly, and when he proposed to me a few months later, I felt like maybe I was finally moving in the right direction.
But then again, months into our marriage, I received another envelope!
More pictures.
More evidence of infidelity.
This time my third husband was with a woman I recognised, his “girlfriend” from work, the one he swore was just a colleague.
I confronted him immediately, but unlike Rayan, Jason didn’t admit it right away.
He tried to manipulate me, claiming that the photos were taken out of context or processed in Photoshop, he couldn’t decide which.
That I was making things up for myself.
‘I can’t believe you don’t trust me,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘After everything we’ve built together.’
But the proof was right in front of me.
And soon my marriage to Jason was over, too.
After that, I vowed not to get into another relationship for a while.
I focused on work, just a regular position at a small company, living a regular life.
I told myself that love was no longer in my cards.
But then Mark came into my life.
He was a firefighter, a man who led with quiet strength.
He was protective but not overbearing, and for the first time in years, I felt truly safe.
When he asked me to marry him, I hesitated again, but he looked me in the eye and promised, ‘I will never hurt you the way they did.’
I believed him.
And then, five months into our marriage, another mysterious envelope arrived.
This time I didn’t open it right away, already anticipating its contents.
My hands trembled as I looked at it, my stomach twisted in knots.
When I finally forced myself to look inside, my heart dropped.
It was Mark, sitting at the hotel bar with a woman in a red dress, his arm around her waist!
I wanted to scream, to cry, to demand an explanation as to why the universe was doing this to me!
But instead I confronted him that night, tossing the envelope on the kitchen table. ‘Explain this.’
My fourth husband’s face went pale as he pulled out the photos, his hands shaking. ‘What the hell, it’s not what it looks like!’
I folded my arms across my chest. “Really? Because it looks exactly like what happened in my last two marriages.”
He swore he didn’t know who the woman was.
That she was a family friend, that nothing had happened.
But I had seen too much, experienced too much.
And so, as soon as it happened, my third marriage fell apart.
I lost all faith in love.
But then everything changed when I visited Margaret, Michael’s mother.
She was always kind to me, even after Michael’s death.
Unlike many mother-in-laws, she never blamed me for the loss of her son.
We kept in touch, and I often helped her with chores.
One afternoon I stopped by to help her with the cleaning. While I was dusting the shelves, a thick, worn book fell from the top shelf.
When I bent down to pick it up, something fell out of its pages.
Photographs.
The same photographs I’d received in those anonymous envelopes!
My breath caught!
I flicked through them, my fingers icy cold.
I turned to go look for Margaret in another part of the house.
When I found her, she was cleaning the kitchen worktop, humming something to herself as she worked.
I stood holding the photos in my hands and pondered how my mother-in-law could have been in those pictures that had helped ruin three of my weddings.
When she turned and spotted me, I held out the pictures, my voice barely audible when I asked: ‘Where did you get these?’
She sighed, rubbing her hands together as if gathering her thoughts.
‘I made them.’
I felt like the ground was leaving under my feet.
‘You…what?’
Margaret met my gaze, her expression serious.
“I watched them. I was watching them. I needed to make sure the men in your life were worthy of you.”
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
She held out her hands to me.
“You were the whole world to Michael, darling. He would want you to have a man who truly deserves you.”
Tears stung my eyes.
I should have been furious.
I should have felt violated.
But instead…relief swept over me.
It wasn’t just me.
I’m not cursed.
I’m not unloved.
Instead of anger, I felt gratitude.
I hugged her tightly, whispering: ‘Thank you.’
Then a thought occurred to me.
‘But if you’re so good at keeping track of me and the men in my life, why is your house such a mess?’
My mother-in-law let out a shocked laugh as she replied, “Honey, I’ve been so busy helping you that I’m never home! When I’m here, I’m too tired to clean and tidy! Looking out for your best interests has been my full-time job!”
I couldn’t contain my laughter, finally realising the sacrifices my mother-in-law had made for my happiness.
It’s been two years since that day.
I’m married again.
Wait, before you shake your head in dissatisfaction, trust me, I definitely found the right man this time.
Listen to me before you go!
I wasted my time on this one.
I really got to know him, and with the help of my mother-in-law’s private investigator, I made sure he was loyal and honest.
One day, as I settled on the couch next to my husband, Daniel, he drew me to him.
His warmth, his calm presence-it wasn’t like it was with the others.
I glanced over at Margaret, who was visiting for a few days and was drinking tea with a smile, knowing what it was all about.
With a chuckle I whispered: ‘Well, he passed all my mother-in-law’s tests, ha!’
And for the first time in years, I truly believed I had found my ‘forever’.
Fortunately, Daniel’s wife is not the only woman with an incredible mother-in-law who is willing to do anything for her daughter-in-law and son.
In the next story, the mother-in-law intervenes in a most unusual way when she learns that her son and his wife are having trouble getting pregnant.
When the truth comes out, the mother-in-law must right her wrong.
