I thought buying our dream home would bring Nathan and me closer. Instead, it became the place where I uncovered my husband’s real character and just how far some people would go to get what they wanted.
I met Nathan right after college, when we were both broke and working our first real jobs.
Back then, we had nothing but big hopes and empty pockets. We’d sit in his tiny studio apartment, eating instant noodles and dreaming about our future.
“One day, we’ll have a real house,” he’d say, pulling me close on his old couch. “With a yard and everything.”
“And a kitchen where we can cook together,” I’d say, laughing.
We saved for our wedding penny by penny. I remember counting coins just to buy flowers for the table decorations.
After the wedding, we started putting money aside for a home.
Honestly, it wasn’t always easy.
There were months when we had to choose between saving or going out for dinner. But it felt like we were a team, working towards something beautiful together.
By the time we finally bought our house, I thought we were stronger than ever. We had survived five years of money worries, long work hours, and living in cramped apartments.
We were ready to build a real life together. Maybe even start a family.
The house was everything we’d dreamed of.
Two stories, a white picket fence, and a big backyard where we could host barbecues. At that point, I felt like everything was finally falling into place.
My graphic design business was doing well, we had space to breathe, and Nathan and I even started talking about having kids.
“I can picture them running around in that backyard,” he said, standing by the kitchen window with his coffee.
“Me too,” I replied, feeling hopeful about our future.
Just a few weeks after we moved in, Nathan knocked on our front door one afternoon while I was unpacking boxes.
“Lena, come meet our neighbor,” he called.
I walked outside to find him standing next to an elderly woman with silver hair and kind eyes. She was small, wearing a floral dress and white shoes.
“This is Mabel,” Nathan said with a warm smile. “She lives right next door.”
Mabel stepped forward and took my hands in hers. Her grip was surprisingly strong for someone who looked so delicate.
“Oh, dear, welcome to the neighborhood,” she said, her voice sweet as honey. “It’s so nice to have young people next door again.”
I smiled back. “Thank you, Mabel. The neighborhood seems lovely.”
But as we talked about the weather and local shops, something bothered me. It wasn’t what she said. It was her eyes. They seemed to be watching me closely, like she was studying every detail of my appearance, voice, and mannerisms. Like she was sizing me up for something.
When we went back inside, I mentioned it to Nathan.
“Did you notice how Mabel kept staring at me?” I asked.
Nathan laughed and shook his head. “Honey, she’s just an old lady. She’s probably lonely. Her husband passed away two years ago, and she doesn’t have much family nearby.”
“I know, but there was something about the way she looked at me…”
“You’re overthinking it,” he said. “She’s sweet. She reminds me of my grandma.”
I wanted to believe him. At first, I tried.
But then Nathan started spending more time over there.
It began innocently enough. Mabel said her kitchen faucet was dripping, so Nathan went over with his toolbox one Saturday morning.
“Just being neighborly,” he said when he came back an hour later.
The next week, she needed help moving some furniture. The week after that, her fence needed fixing.
“Don’t you think it’s strange how much she needs help?” I asked one evening as he grabbed his hammer.
“What do you mean?” he said, avoiding my eyes.
“How did she manage before we moved here? Did her husband really do all this stuff?”
Nathan shrugged. “Maybe she hired people. Now she doesn’t have to.”
Eventually, I started making jokes about it.
“You spend more time with Mabel than with me,” I said one Thursday evening when he announced another repair project.
He just laughed and grabbed his gloves. “Don’t be silly, Lena. It’s just helping a neighbor.”
Then came that Saturday morning that changed everything. I was making coffee when Nathan walked by carrying a trowel and a flat of flower seedlings.
“Where are you going with those?” I asked.
“Mabel’s garden,” he said casually. “Just planting some things for her.”
His tone felt off. Something wasn’t right.
I don’t know why, but I felt the need to follow him.
Maybe it was how he avoided my eyes or how quickly he grabbed the flowers. Whatever it was, I knew I had to see what was really going on next door.
I waited five minutes, then grabbed my old binoculars from the closet.
My hands shook as I crept to the side fence between our yards.
There’s a small hill behind our backyard, a perfect spot to overlook Mabel’s garden if you position yourself just right. I’d noticed it when we were house hunting, thinking it would be great for watching sunsets. Now I used it to spy on my own husband.
I lay flat in the grass, raised the binoculars, and focused on Mabel’s garden.
At first, everything looked normal. Nathan was kneeling in a flower bed near her back porch, dirt on his hands, carefully planting seedlings in neat rows.
But then someone else stepped out of the house.
A young woman, maybe in her early twenties, with long blonde hair and a figure that looked like she belonged in magazines. She wore a tight tank top and tiny shorts that left little to the imagination.
“Who is that?” I whispered.
She walked over to Nathan and crouched beside him in the garden. She said something that made him laugh.
Then she handed him a flower. A single red rose.
And then… I can barely write this… She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Right there in Mabel’s garden, like they didn’t have a care in the world.
I felt like I’d been hit. My vision blurred, and for a moment, I thought I might be sick.
But it got worse.
Mabel appeared on her porch, carrying a tray with three glasses of lemonade. Three glasses. She’d known the girl would be there.
Mabel smiled at them like she was watching a favorite movie, then set the tray on a small garden table.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
How could Nathan think he could kiss another woman when his wife was right next door? What was going on?
I hurried down the hill, walked around to Mabel’s front yard, and pressed my face against a crack in her fence. I pulled out my phone and started recording everything I could see.
Nathan was sitting on a wooden garden bench with the girl practically in his lap. They kissed like teenagers, completely lost in each other.
Meanwhile, Mabel was bustling around, refilling their lemonade glasses like she was hosting a romantic picnic.
That was my husband of five years, the man who promised to love me forever. The same man who talked about having kids just last week.
“Nathan,” I called.
He looked up like he saw a ghost. The girl scrambled off his lap, face bright red.
I walked around to Mabel’s gate and let myself in.
“I thought you loved me,” I said, fighting tears. “And all this time, you were coming to this old witch next door so she could set you up with a girlfriend?”
Nathan’s mouth fell open.
“Lena, I—It’s not what it looks like—” he stammered.
“Really?” I turned to the girl, who was backing toward the house. “Did you know he was married?”
Her face went from red to white.
“He told me he was divorced,” she said quietly. “I swear, I didn’t know you existed.”
That’s when Mabel stormed over, her sweet old lady act gone.
“How dare you trespass on my property!” she shouted. “You have no right to come here and accuse people!”
“Mara, go inside,” Mabel barked at the young woman.
The girl, Mara, obeyed immediately and ran inside.
“Your property?” I yelled at Mabel. “You’ve been stealing my husband! You planned this, didn’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mabel said, but her face told a different story. The sweet mask was gone, replaced by cold calculation.
“You liar, manipulative—” I started, but Mabel cut me off.
“Don’t you dare scream at me!” she shouted. “My granddaughter is a good girl, and I won’t tolerate anyone yelling at her.”
And then it all clicked.
Mabel, the innocent widow who needed help, had been playing matchmaker all along. She’d arranged everything.
The dripping faucets, fence repairs, and garden work were all excuses to get Nathan over there so he could meet her precious granddaughter.
And Nathan… he thought he could keep both lives. His wife at home, planning their future and talking about babies. His girlfriend next door, young and beautiful, always available whenever Mabel needed another “fix.”
But he didn’t count on me finding out.
“You planned this,” I said to Mabel. “You’ve been setting him up with her from the start.”
Mabel lifted her chin. “Mara deserves a good man. Someone to take care of her.”
“He’s married!” I shouted.
“He told her he wasn’t,” Mabel snapped. “Maybe if you were a better wife, he wouldn’t be looking elsewhere.”
“But you knew, you—” I stopped, realizing my husband was to blame. He was the one who said he was single.
I looked at Nathan, still sitting on the bench, looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there.
“Don’t come home tonight,” I said simply.
“Lena, please, we can fix this—”
“No,” I said. “We can’t.”
I went home, packed his things in garbage bags, and left them on the porch.
Three weeks later, I filed for divorce.
We put the dream house on the market and split the money evenly.
Nathan begged and pleaded. He called it a “mistake.” Said it “meant nothing,” and that he was “confused” and “didn’t know how it happened.”
But I wasn’t confused. Not anymore.
I was done.
Nathan didn’t end up with that girl, by the way. Not that I cared, but word travels fast in small towns.
A few weeks after the divorce, I heard from another neighbor that Mabel showed up at Nathan’s mother’s house, furious.
She screamed at him on his mother’s porch, loud enough for half the street to hear. Called him a liar and a coward. Said he broke her granddaughter’s heart and promised to leave me and marry Mara.
That he disgraced them both.
Apparently, Mabel convinced Mara Nathan would divorce me and marry her. When that didn’t happen, they realized they’d been played just as much as I had.
Honestly, I was just glad to be out of that whole mess.
