After months of saving every extra penny, I thought I was finally ready to travel to my late father’s gravesite in Europe. I had dreamed of this moment ever since he passed away a few months ago. Saying goodbye in person felt like the closure I needed. But little did I know… my husband had other plans.
Ethan and I had been married for four years. We didn’t have kids, and we were just an ordinary couple, navigating life together with its fair share of ups and downs. I thought I loved him, truly, until everything changed overnight.
My dream was simple: a trip to visit my dad’s grave. He had died before I could say goodbye, and that memory haunted me. I started saving meticulously. As a nurse, money was tight, but I managed to tuck away over $5,000 in a little box hidden in our closet.
That money wasn’t just cash—it was hope, closure, a chance to heal. Ethan knew about it, and for the longest time, I believed he supported me.
We were careful with our finances, always talking about bills, groceries, and budgets. I told him, casually at first, and then with mounting excitement: I was leaving in three weeks. I even counted down the days.
Then one day, I got off work earlier than usual. Ethan was supposed to be on the night shift, so I expected an empty, quiet house. But when I approached, I noticed a light on in the bedroom. My curiosity pried me toward the window, and that’s when I saw him—Ethan—on his knees in front of the closet.
My heart skipped a beat. My hidden stash. My money.
I watched as he rifled through it, a guilty desperation in his movements. I fumbled for my phone and decided to call him, pretending I wasn’t watching. After four rings, he answered.
“Hi, babe, where are you?” I asked, casually.
“Why are you whispering? I’m at work! I told you I’m on the night shift!” he snapped.
“Oh, sorry, honey. I forgot. I just wanted to ask you to prepare dinner; I’ll be late,” I lied smoothly.
“No, can’t do. Gotta get back to work. Love you, bye.” He dropped the phone like it burned him and threw on his jacket.
I didn’t waste a second. I ran to the car and followed him, keeping my distance. He went to the bus stop, rode for a while, and eventually walked around a shopping center. My stomach turned when I saw him step into a fishing store.
“What’s he doing here?” I muttered under my breath.
I quietly entered the store and hid behind a rack. My jaw dropped. There he was, grinning, chatting with the clerk, holding the biggest inflatable boat I’d ever seen. Around him, a cart overflowed with fishing gear—spinning reels, tackle boxes, nets, you name it. He looked like a kid in a candy store.
And then it hit me. My money. My hard-earned, carefully saved money. He had stolen it to fund… this.
“Ethan! What the hell are you doing?!” I practically screamed, storming up to him.
He froze, eyes wide. “Lizzy, what are you doing here?”
“Did you take my money? The money I’ve been saving for my trip?”
He blinked, innocent as a puppy. “What? No, Lizzy. You’re just stressed. You’re overreacting. I’ve been saving for this for months.”
I couldn’t believe the audacity. Tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.
“Don’t lie to me! That money was important, Ethan. Something that actually mattered. And you spent it on… a boat?”
He tried to calm me down, reaching for my arm. “Lizzy, you’re just stressed. Maybe you’re not thinking clearly. Let’s talk later, okay?”
I yanked away and stormed out. Tears finally came, hot and furious, as I realized how betrayed I felt.
That evening, he came home, guilt plastered across his face.
“Lizzy, I… I’m sorry. I took the money. I just really wanted to go on this fishing trip. It’s a big deal.”
Suddenly, it all made sense. A few days ago, he’d told me about a “once-in-a-lifetime” fishing trip with professional anglers. He had obsessed over it ever since.
“I get it, Ethan,” I said coldly. “But we can’t afford this. My trip is coming up. Can’t you wait until next year?”
He had seemed disappointed but agreed at the time. I thought that was the end of it. I was wrong.
“You KNEW I was visiting my dad’s grave in three weeks. You knew how important this was. How could you do this?”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’ll get the money back in a month. Can’t you push your trip back a little? This fishing trip… it’s really important to me.”
I stared at him, stunned. He wanted me to delay my trip to satisfy his obsession. Rage consumed me.
The next day, I hatched a plan. I called my boss and moved my vacation up. While Ethan was at work, I packed up every piece of his new fishing gear—the boat, reels, tackle—and returned it to the store.
“Hi, I’d like to return all of this,” I said firmly to the clerk, trying to hide my satisfaction.
“Return all of it? Everything?” he asked.
“Yes,” I said, smiling tightly. “Changed my mind.”
The clerk processed it without question, handing me back the cash. I even sold some of his used equipment and walked away with an extra $2,000 and a thrilling sense of victory.
I packed my suitcase, checked out quietly, and headed to the airport. No note, no explanation—Ethan would find out soon enough.
The flight to Europe felt like a dream. I stared out the window, thinking about my father, my husband, and the storm that had erupted at home. I didn’t know what the future held for my marriage, but right now, it didn’t matter.
The next day, I stood before my father’s headstone. Kneeling, I placed a bouquet of daisies, his favorite, and let the tears fall. “I finally made it, Dad,” I whispered. For the first time, I felt relief.
Later, in my hotel room, my phone buzzed. A text from Ethan: “Elizabeth, where are you? I came home, and everything’s gone. Please, talk to me?”
I stared at the screen, my heart heavy but calm. For now, I needed this. I needed closure. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear: I was finally at peace.