While My Husband Was Away on a Business Trip, a Voicemail Revealed the Real Reason He Left — Story of the Day

Do you have that one thing in your house that no one’s used in years? I’m pretty sure everyone has more than just one — for us, it was the landline.

It even became a bit of a joke between my husband and me. The only people who ever called it were telemarketers or scammers, and we’d always mess with them for fun.

Our marriage, in general, was full of laughter. Peter and I had both done amateur comedy in college, so teasing each other was just part of daily life — and I loved it. I’d married my best friend, someone I adored completely.

Everything between us felt perfect. Even though Peter could be a bit immature sometimes, I’d gotten used to that and would just take on a little more responsibility when needed. It was fine. All of it was fine — except one thing.

We couldn’t get pregnant.

No matter how hard we tried, it just never happened. We had been to countless doctors, done more tests than I could count, and every single one came back the same — we were both perfectly healthy.

After a while, I started to think the universe simply didn’t want me to be a mother. That I didn’t deserve it.

Peter, though, never lost hope. He kept telling me things would work out, that we’d get there.

But the last tst hit differently. Peter had gone on a work trip — which was strange, since traveling wasn’t even part of his job.

It felt incredibly mistimed. Because when I took another test and saw that damn single line again, I was completely alone.

Peter had been gone two days and wasn’t coming back for three more. I decided to numb the pain with a tub of ice cream and some cheesy ’90s rom-com.

I walked into the kitchen to grab the ice cream, and that stupid landline started ringing again.

Another scammer, probably. I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. I picked it up, lowered my voice as much as I could, and growled, “Go to hell!” before slamming the receiver down.

Then I noticed something strange. The voicemail light was blinking. I pressed the button.

“Peter, hi. I know you told me not to call your house, but I haven’t been able to reach you. You were supposed to be here yesterday, and now you’re just ignoring me. He’s waiting for you.”

“What the hell?” I said out loud.

I redialed the number, and a woman answered almost immediately. “Peter? Is that you? Why didn’t you come?” she blurted out.

“Oh… I’m sorry,” she stammered and hung up.

I called back, but she didn’t pick up again. If she hadn’t reacted so weirdly, I might’ve believed she was just someone from Peter’s work. But now? I had to find out what was going on with my husband.

I jotted the number down on a piece of paper and opened my laptop. Every woman has a little stalker instinct in her — we can find out anything about anyone.

Within minutes, I’d found out who the number belonged to. Her name was Olivia. I also found her social media.

I scrolled through her photos, trying to spot Peter. He wasn’t in any of them. It was just her and a little boy, maybe three years old. Her son, Hunter.