I Came Home to My Husband and His Ex Digging My Garden – What They Hid Years Ago Made Me Pale

Margaret was shocked to get home and discover her husband, Martin, working feverishly with his ex-wife to dig up their lovely garden. Their hands smeared with mud and hushed words suggested secrets buried for a long time. Margaret discovered Martin wasn’t as flawless as she had believed after confronting him.

I’ve heard stories of husbands cheating on their spouses with friends, coworkers, and even past romantic partners, but I never imagined that I would have to feel that way about my husband, Martin. He was, I always believed, the most ideal man I could have asked for.

Two years ago, after I had broken up with my five-year partner, we were introduced by a mutual acquaintance. I was at my lowest point. broken-hearted, insecure, and doubting every aspect of who I am.

Martin entered my life at that point and seemed like a breath of fresh air.

He was incredibly considerate and courteous to us right from the start. He would sit through hours of me talking about my day without ever looking at his phone or showing signs of boredom.

The way he arrived at my house with his laptop loaded with my favorite romantic comedies and homemade chicken soup was what truly captured my heart.

“When they’re sick, everyone needs a little TLC,” he remarked, grinning broadly.

I decided that this was it. I’ve been waiting my entire life for this man.

Martin’s adorable little quirk was one of the things that made him endearing to me. When he was anxious or worried, he would stammer, which I thought was very cute.

We were dating for about a month when he took me out to a classy Italian restaurant for our “monthiversary” (yeah, we used to have those back then).

Martin was really passionate and excited as he told me about the new accounting software his company was using while he was all dressed up.

He pointed to the sky and exclaimed, “It’s going to revolutionize how we handle client data,” waving his fork around in emphasis. His fingers suddenly gave way, causing the fork to fall to the ground and splash tomato sauce all over his shirt.

A flash of red shot through his face.

He looked horrified and mumbled, “I-I-I’m so s-sorry.” “My intention was not to… What an utter mess, oh my goodness.”

It was impossible not to find his agitated state charming. I grabbed his hand from across the table.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I mutely said. These events take place. Moreover, you completely rock the color red.”

He laughed at that, and before long, we were giggling over it. He then confessed, over tiramisu, that he had a tendency to stammer under pressure or when he was embarrassed.

Martin became more forthcoming about his background as our friendship developed, especially with regard to his ex-wife, Janet.

He would shake his head and add, “She was always after more.” Greater wealth, possessions, and prestige. There was never enough of anything.”

Martin stated that their marriage had failed due to Janet’s unquenchable hunger. He told me tales of credit card debt, conflicts over designer clothing, and outbursts over not being able to afford expensive vacations.

He said, “That’s why we broke up,” one evening when we were snuggling on the couch. “I just was unable to meet her demands any longer. She kept shoving my head under as though I was drowning.”

How could somebody be so unkind to such a wonderful man? I pondered.

I swore I would never be like that on that day. Martin was someone I would value for himself, not for what he might offer me.

A year into our relationship, Martin made the proposal, and I said yes without hesitation. It was the most wonderful day of my life, and our wedding was modest yet exquisite.

Let’s go back to last Tuesday. I was eager to come home after spending the previous weekend at my mother’s house. I made the decision to serve Martin’s favorite lasagna as a surprise for supper.

But when I got to our driveway, I noticed something that caused me to apply the brakes too quickly.

There were two persons tearing up my gorgeous garden in our front yard. Not just any two individuals, either. It was Martin and a lady I knew from pictures as his ex-wife, Janet.

I wondered if my eyes were playing tricks on me as I sat there in the van for a little while, blinking quickly. However, they were already there, pulling out every bloom I had laboriously planted.

Why was Janet in this place? For what reason was she with Martin? And for God’s sake, why were they ruining my garden?

That’s when I got out of the car and walked straight for them.

“What’s going on here?” With a quivering voice, I demanded.

Martin’s eyes widened in dismay as his head snapped up. “M-M-Margaret!” he yelled, clanging down the shovel. “Y-you’re h-home e-early.”

He’s stuttering, I realized.

All of my worst nightmares suddenly flooded into my mind. Martin stumbled only in genuine moments of stress or anxiety. However, why? What did he have to hide?

My mind was buzzing with ideas. Was Janet his cheating partner? Had they never truly parted ways? Or was it something darker still? If not, why are they covertly digging up our yard?

He began, “W-we were just…” but Janet interrupted.

She asked, “Oh, you didn’t tell her?” “Love, she DESERVES to know that 10 years ago we buried a time capsule.”

“A time capsule?” Numbly, I repeated.

“Yes, while we were still together, we buried one. She disclosed, pointing to a dirty metal box at her feet, “when we lived here.” “We always planned to dig it up someday.”

Martin gave a bashful nod. Yes, indeed. We kind of felt that looking back on our recollections would be enjoyable.”

Again, “your memories,” I said. “So, you decided to destroy my garden for your little trip down memory lane?”

“I apologize,” stumbled Martin’s words. “I d-didn’t think—”

I yelled, “No, you didn’t think,” and then I hurried inside.

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I went around the living room inside, trying to make sense of what had happened. Martin, how could you do this? How was he able to hide this from me? And how can he put our existence together second to his history with Janet?

The front door opened and closed, and then I heard quiet voices coming from the hallway. Martin then said, “Margaret? Is it possible for us to speak?”

I inhaled deeply before crossing into the hallway. With the muddy time capsule between them, Martin and Janet stood there.

“What’s there to talk about?” I questioned icily.

“Please allow us to clarify,” Martin begged. “It’s not what you think.”

Janet gave a nod. “We just wanted to take a little look back. Nothing is present.

I interrupted her by raising a hand.

“What do you know? Alright. Proceed now. Think back. Examine your history. I’m going outside.

I walked outdoors after brushing past them. I got a thought when I observed the devastation they had created of my garden.

I therefore began gathering firewood. The sun had practically set by the time I got a nice flame going. I could hear Janet and Martin giggling in the kitchen about something they had discovered inside the time capsule.

“Hey,” I murmured. “Why don’t you people come outside with that stuff? We might have a pleasant little bonfire.”

Martin set the time capsule on the ground as they joined me outdoors a few minutes later.

“This is pleasant,” he grinned.

I gave a nod and took a handful of the contents out of the box. In my hand were a few old photos and letters.

“Margaret, what are you —” Martin began, but as I threw everything into the flames, his words burned out of his throat.

“What are you doing?” Janet made a demand.

“Burnt bridges should stay burnt, don’t you think?” I stated strongly. “It’s time to focus less on the past and more on the future we’re supposed to be building together, Martin.”

This was not how I had envisioned our life together, I thought as I watched the flames devour their memories. It did, nevertheless, give me hope that perhaps this would be the beginning of something new. Something sincere and authentic.

Martin wasn’t the ideal man I had assumed I had married, either, as I saw him. Like the rest of us, he had flaws.

Janet interrupted the silence abruptly.

“I think I should go,” she remarked, reversing her position toward the flames. She hurried out of the yard, and neither Martin nor I attempted to stop her.

Martin turned to face me, tears in his eyes, once we were alone.

“I’m so sorry, Margaret,” he said. “I didn’t mean to cause you harm. I simply didn’t know how to explain the time capsule to you.”

“Did you think I wouldn’t understand?” I asked, taking a long breath.

He said, “I was afraid.” “Afraid you would be upset about the garden, afraid you’d think I still had feelings for Janet.” I reasoned that if I could only locate it fast while you were away, it would be resolved. But perhaps I was mistaken. I made a huge mistake. Will you ever be able to pardon me?”

I honestly answered, “I don’t know, Martin,” as I continued to stare at the fire. “You have betrayed my faith. It is not something that can be resolved quickly.”

“We have a lot to talk about, and a lot to work through,” I said. “Not tonight, though. I need some room tonight.”

Martin said, “Of course,” nodding. “I’ll… I’ll take a nap on the sofa.”

I stayed by the fire and watched it slowly go out as he went back inside.

I decided that the garden needed to be replanted. New life, new soil, and new seeds. Our partnership might work in a similar manner.

Which way we’d go would only become clear with time. But one thing was for sure—my perception of Martin would never be the same.

If you had been in my position, how would you have responded?

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