I tied the knot with my childhood sweetheart, ready to embark on our happily ever after. That was until he handed me a notebook filled with his mother’s secrets.
It was a surprise meeting Andrei that morning. There I was, at our hometown cafe, and there he stood—tall and familiar, with just a sprinkle of gray hair, in front of the coffee shop we used to frequent after school.
“Andrei?” I called out, hardly believing my eyes.
He turned around, and for a moment, he just stared. Then, a wide smile broke across his face. “Is that really you?” he exclaimed, his voice warm and just as I remembered. “Never thought I’d see you around here again!”
“Neither did I!” I laughed. “What are the odds?”
We decided to grab a coffee together, just like old times. Inside the cafe, nothing seemed to have changed. The old wooden counters and the aroma of freshly baked pastries transported us back in time.
We chatted for hours about everything and nothing, laughing about old stories—like getting lost on a field trip or passing notes during history class. Time flew by without us noticing.
Coffee turned into lunch, and lunch led to long walks, and before we knew it, we were calling each other every day. Being around him felt so easy, so natural.
A few months later, Andrei proposed. It was simple, just the two of us sitting by a lake one evening.
“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice steady yet filled with emotion. “I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”
I didn’t hesitate for a second. “Yes,” I whispered, tears in my eyes. Two months later, we were married.
After the wedding, we went to his family home, where we’d spent many childhood afternoons. The house hadn’t changed a bit. Even the hallway wallpaper was the same, and the ancient oak tree still stood in the yard.
Later that evening, after freshening up, I turned to find Andrei sitting on the edge of the bed, seeming… different. His usual smile had vanished. He was holding a small, worn notebook in his hands.
“Andrei?” I asked, sitting next to him. “Is everything okay?”
He didn’t look at me immediately. His gaze was fixed on the notebook, his fingers tracing its edge. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”
The tone of his voice sent chills down my spine. “What is it?”
He took a deep breath, finally meeting my gaze. “This notebook belonged to my mother,” he said slowly. “She kept notes… about our family. About something she deemed important.”
“Okay…” I said hesitantly, not fully understanding.
He passed it to me and I opened it. The pages were filled with neat handwriting, connected letters across each page. “My family has… a belief,” he began. “Actually, a curse. I know it sounds ridiculous, but they believe it’s real.”
“A curse?” I asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to hide my skepticism.
He nodded. “My mother claims that any woman who marries into our family… is cursed with misfortune. Tragedy. Pain. It’s something she says has been happening for generations.”
My initial urge was to laugh, but I stopped when I saw the worry in his eyes. “Andrei, you don’t actually believe this, do you?”
He ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted. “I don’t know. I always told myself it was just an old family superstition. But… I’ve seen things, you know? My parents’ marriage wasn’t exactly smooth. My uncle… well, let’s say things ended badly for him too.”
I squeezed his hand to comfort him. “Look, that doesn’t mean anything. Many people have tough marriages.”
He offered a faint smile, but his eyes were still troubled. “Maybe you’re right,” he said, but he didn’t seem convinced.
Just a week after the wedding, minor inconveniences started piling up. First, a flat tire right before our honeymoon, leaving us unable to go anywhere.
“It’s just bad luck,” I insisted, forcing a laugh.
When we returned home, strange things began to happen. The business I had worked on for years started losing clients. A slew of bad reviews popped up online, some from people I’d never even done business with. I tried everything to fix it, but nothing seemed to help. It felt as if someone had cursed my work.
Then, someone broke into our house. Nothing significant was stolen, but the psychological damage was enormous.
Andrei noticed it too. “Do you think… this curse could be real?” he asked one night, his voice low.
“Of course not,” I replied quickly, though doubts had started creeping in. “There has to be an explanation for all this. Maybe it’s just… I don’t know… a phase.”
The turning point came just before Christmas. Andrei’s mother insisted we host the holiday celebration at our house. We chatted on the phone about the menu, and she seemed in good spirits.
After the call, I left the phone on the couch and picked up a book to read. But as I flipped through pages, I heard voices. The phone was still connected.
“Do you really believe this curse nonsense still works?” Andrei’s father asked, sounding exasperated.
Without thinking, I pressed the record button.
She laughed. “Every time. Look at her! Her business is already failing, and Andrei is so wrapped up in worry he can hardly think straight. And I’ll end this story when I ruin the meal.”
“Enough, Mariana,” he replied. “You’ve scared away enough good women from our sons.”
“If they’re not good enough for my boys, I’ll do what’s necessary,” she said, her tone cold. “I know what’s best for them.”
I froze. I ended the call, feeling numb, her words swirling in my mind. All those strange occurrences—the flat tire, the bad reviews—were orchestrated by her. There was no curse. It was all a lie, a grotesque ploy to control her sons and their wives.
That night, I sat across from Andrei, holding my phone in shaky hands. “Andrei,” I began, “you need to hear something.”
He looked at me, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “What is it?”
I pressed play, and his mother’s voice filled the room.
Andrei appeared shocked, his eyes darting between the phone and me as he tried to process what he was hearing. “This… this has to be a mistake,” he stammered, disbelief heavy in his voice. “She wouldn’t… my mother wouldn’t do something like this—”
I took his hand. “Andrei, I heard everything. She’s been trying to drive us apart.”
Finally, he looked at me, determination etched into his features. “I need to hear it from her. I need the truth from both of them.”
We arrived at Andrei’s parents’ house late that night. Andrei’s father opened the door, surprised to see us. “Andrei, is everything alright?”
Andrei gently pushed past, his face pale with anger. “Where’s Mom?”
His father’s expression changed, stepping back. “Andrei, please, calm down.”
“I am calm,” he said, his voice tight. “But I need answers, Dad.”
Mariana seemed stunned, her eyes darting between her husband, who refused to meet her gaze, and us. “What are you talking about?”
Andrei held up the phone. “I heard you, Mom. You and Dad discussing the curse. Talking about how you’ve… intervened. How you’ve scared women into believing they were cursed.”
Her face shifted from feigned confusion to a hard, calculated expression. “Andrei, I don’t know what you think you heard, but—”
“You know what you said, Mariana,” his father interjected, calm, stepping forward. “There’s no point in denying it.”
She turned to him, eyes blazing. “How dare you!”
“How dare I?” Andrei’s father shook his head, weary and exhausted. “I’ve kept quiet for years. I’ve watched you drive away every woman Andrei or his brothers have loved. I’ve seen you lie, sabotage, play with people’s lives just because you thought you knew best. It’s gone too far.”
Andrei’s face crumbled as he looked at his mother and father. “So it’s true?” he whispered. “All of it?”
Tears began to fall down her face. “I did it because I love you, Andrei.”
He stepped back, shaking his head. “That’s not love. That’s control.”
A heavy silence settled over the room. Andrei’s father spoke again, his voice tired. “Andrei, I tried to reason with her, believe me. But… she thinks she’s doing what’s right.”
Andrei turned to his father, his voice filled with anguish. “And you let her do this? All these years?”
His father looked down. “I was afraid of losing your mother. Thought one day she’d stop. That you’d be strong enough to… free yourself from it.”
Andrei grew silent. Taking my hand, he led me to the door. Outside, he gazed at the stars, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He looked at me, his voice barely a whisper, “I’m so sorry. For everything.”
I squeezed his hand. “We’re free now, Andrei. That’s all that matters.”
But as we headed to the car, I felt the weight of the past, the sadness of a family broken by secrets and misguided attempts of a mother to protect her sons. Andrei’s heart would need time to heal, but we were leaving behind the curse and his mother.
