4 Stories of Couples with Jaw-Dropping Twists No One Saw Coming

All relationships go through trials and tribulations, as witnessed in the following four stories. One person’s fiancé accidentally caused the death of their father, while another one discovered their husband had a whole other family. Read on to hear more!

While Pregnant, I Attended a Pottery Party That Turned into a Surreal Nightmare

I’m currently pregnant with baby number two, and you know how when people say that your second pregnancy will be more emotional? I initially didn’t believe it as I thought it was an old superstition my mother shared. However, there is some truth to it.

Although it had nothing to do with my baby and all about my husband. Most of my second pregnancy saw me wanting to hide and fulfill my junk food cravings. However, Ava, my best friend, wanted me out of the house so we could do things together.

While making a strawberry milkshake for me as I put my swollen feet up, she mentioned hearing about this cool pottery place. She shared how one signed up for some sort of pottery party. I asked if we’d make pottery, thinking of a hundred other things I’d prefer doing instead. Smiling as she blended my drink, she noted:

“Not necessarily. We could just paint pottery instead. Come on, Liv, let’s do it together!”

She sold it by noting how we could create stuff for my upcoming baby’s nursery, and I reluctantly agreed but promised her that she’d owe me anything the baby craved that night, and a deal was made. “I’ve already told Malcolm to watch Tess for the evening while we’re out,” my friend added.

Since she wasn’t the biggest fan of my husband, seeing how she had already spoken to him about our evening made me realize how much she wanted me out of the house.

We arrived at the pottery place, and 15 women were booked for the same slot. They all wanted to unwind, sip beverages, and just have fun, all of which Ava had promised me as well. Little did we know that we were in for a wild ride!

While chatting about birth stories — the women shared theirs or spoke about someone close to them. Then, one of them started sharing about how she went on a date with her boyfriend, and he had to leave suddenly because his sister-in-law (SIL) went into labor.

“It was the 4th of July, and we were at my flat watching a movie when he said that Olivia was in labor.” She revealed that she asked him why he had to go as it was almost midnight, and they were exhausted. However, he brushed her off, saying it was a family thing and they all wished to be there when the baby was born.

My friend and I exchanged looks because my firstborn, Tess, was born on the same day, and my name was Olivia. After that, the woman spoke about her birth story, which happened six months later. I was looking at all the different colors of paint when she said to the group:

“But Malcolm missed it! Can you imagine?”

“He was there for his niece’s birth but not our son’s!” Her Malcolm said he was babysitting his niece, Tess, and couldn’t leave. “What are the odds?” Ava whispered to me. “Wait, your boyfriend’s name is Malcolm?” I asked the woman, who nodded.

Showing her my phone’s screensaver — a photo of Malcolm, Tess, and myself — I asked if that was him. She nodded again, looking at me blankly before muttering, “Your husband? But he’s the father of my child, too.”

My heart sank, and the room spun as I tried to process things. The pottery party became a surreal nightmare. It dawned on me that my husband had not only cheated on me but had also fathered a child with this woman.

The other women exchanged sympathetic glances, realizing the depth of the matter. Feeling overwhelmed, I excused myself from the gathering and left, tears streaming down my face. I stood in the bathroom and tried to get my bearings.

Today, I confronted Malcolm, refusing to let this fester, mainly because I was due in five weeks. Before bringing my baby into this mess, I needed to know how to move forward. He reluctantly admitted to his affair and the child he had fathered. Now, I’m eating chocolate and researching divorce lawyers.

Woman Discovers Husband’s Second Wife and Family after Daughter Starts Acting Up

My daughter, Diane, has always been a rainbow child, opting to wear the brightest colors and drawing butterflies and unicorns. However, of late, her behavior has changed. My little girl has been withdrawn, isn’t eating properly, and always wants to sit outside.

At first, I didn’t think much about it because Diane goes through constant phases. However, when her kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Silverton, called me in for a parent-teacher meeting, I was worried.

The teacher said, “I didn’t want to alarm you, Jennifer, but there’s something concerning going on with Diane.” She pulled out a yellow file and showed me a series of drawings by Diane. They were all dark and shadowy, and a bit menacing. My drive home from the school was in complete silence.

Later, while making noodles for dinner, I decided to talk to Diane about it. “Sweetheart, I went to see Mrs. Silverton today,” I told her. Curiously she asked why. “She spoke about the new drawings you’ve been doing and how different they are from your usual ones,” I explained.

Diane silently looked at her bowl of noodles, twirling her fork. “Darling, you can tell Momma anything,” I reassured her. Feeling safe, she finally spilled the beans, saying quietly, “I found Daddy’s secret.” I questioned further, “What secret, honey?”

Jumping from the dinner table, she said, “Come, I’ll show you, Momma.” William, my husband, lives with Diane and me only part-time due to his job. Sometimes, he works away from home, but the traveling always gets to him. So, he chose to rent an apartment for his time away.

When Diane led me to William’s home office, I wondered what she had discovered. She opened the top drawer, took out an old box, and explained, “I saw this when I came looking for crayons.” My baby girl gave me the box before running off to her room.

My heart pounded as I opened the box and glimpsed inside before my entire world crumbled. There were photos of William hugging another woman while three gorgeous children, aged between two and seven, smiled alongside them. I felt shocked, betrayed, and then raw heartbreak.

Beneath the photos was a little notebook with numbers scribbled in it. It seemed like a replica of the notebook in my handbag that had all my emergency numbers ready. My husband was not only having an affair, but he’d fathered look-alike children as well!

Tears streamed down my face as I came to grips with the truth. William had been leading a double life, and Diane and I had been the unsuspecting main characters. I returned everything to the box and placed it back in its place.

While leaving the room, I found Diane standing in the hallway, her eyes wide with worry and confusion. “Let’s get you to bed,” I said and promised her everything was going to be okay. The following day, I decided to get to the root of William’s deceit.

After dropping my baby girl at school, I drove back home, took another look at the small book, and called Mia, the woman in the photographs. I pretended to be their son’s teacher, and she told me to hang on, “Speak to my husband, William.”

I heard my husband’s voice on the phone, confirming my worst fears, and hung up immediately. Hours later, after contemplating everything, I called Mia again and confessed it all, leaving her equally shocked.

Next, I called my lawyer — I needed to end my marriage to William. Diane, Mia, and her children, and I deserved better. William was too selfish to realize the pain and torment that both families would face when things got out.

Our lawyer ensured that we got alimony from my ex-husband and Diane got into therapy. But if I’m being honest, I think the best therapy was for my daughter to get to know her half-siblings.

Man Discovers His Involvement in Fiancée’s Father’s Death

I was never really someone who believed in fate. I figured that if something was going to happen, it would happen. And that would be it — with no other grand plan in place. But then, I found out who Linda’s father was, and I was responsible for his death. Suddenly, it seemed that fate did have a play in it.

I’m thirty years old, deeply in love with my fiancée, Linda, and we’re busy planning our wedding. We met two years ago in the enchanting chaos that is New York City and has never been apart since. Linda and I decided to visit her parents’ house in Phoenix.

I had met Linda’s mom before because she came to New York to stay with her every so often. I knew that her father, Leonard, had passed away when she was just a child, but that was about it. Our visit was because Linda wanted to show me the home she grew up in — where I could have met her if my family hadn’t moved away after my father got a job in New York.

But more than that, Linda wanted to ask her mother, Veronica, if she could use her veil for our wedding. Dinner was a hearty affair — a lot of laughter and lots of delicious food. But then came the old photographs of Linda.

“Cole,” Veronica said, handing me an album. “You’ve got to see Linda’s hair during her rebellious years.” It was all good fun and innocent until I stumbled upon a photo of Linda and her father. In the photograph was a face I had never expected to see, and certainly not in Linda’s family album.

Without thinking, I blurted out a confession, “I’m so sorry to say this, but I’m the reason your father is dead. Linda, I killed him.” Linda’s joyous expression morphed into confusion and disbelief. “What do you mean, Cole?” she asked. “My father died about twenty years ago. How could you be the reason for his death?”

I explained, “Do you remember I told you that my family lived in Phoenix for about a year when I was ten?” Linda and her mother nodded. “We weren’t here long because my father was between jobs. But during that time, I loved to ride bicycles, and I would always ride a few blocks back before dinner.”

“I rode into the wrong lane one day because the sun was distracting. There was another car on the road, and to protect me, the car swerved and crashed into a tree.” Pointing to the photo of Linda next to her father, I said, “This one was in the newspaper.”

“I remember seeing it the next day, and I knew the man had saved me. I don’t know who called for an ambulance, but I know that I sat on the curb until they left. Then I walked home.” “But you were only a child,” Linda’s mother said.

“I didn’t know he was your dad until now,” I told Linda. “It was only when I saw this photograph.” “I understand if you want to cancel the wedding,” I said. “I’d do anything for you, Linda. Even if it means letting you walk away — this is unthinkable. And unforgivable. I know.”

Linda reached for my beer bottle and took a swig. “I think it’s fate that we met, Cole,” she said, taking my hand. “And I think that my dad saved you for me.” She shared how she couldn’t blame a child for being a child and riding a bicycle or her father for wanting to save him, stating:

“I forgive you.”

She stood up, and at that moment, she hugged me, and then I cried. And it was cathartic. I’m sitting here, a week before our wedding, writing my vows, and I couldn’t feel more fulfilled. I feel a sense of closure now that I got to know the family of the man who saved me — even if it was my fate or coincidence. But now, his family will also be mine.

Wife Discovers Dark Side of Yearly Christmas Gifts from MIL

I’ve been married to my husband for the past five years, and each year, my mother-in-law (MIL) used to give me porcelain dolls. At first, I thought it was sweet because they looked like they were antiques, and she always gave them to me in a box when nobody was around us.

I just assumed they were from her collection, and she didn’t want the rest of the family to know. But I was so wrong. I’m not a doll person, so there was never a need to display them anywhere in our home. Instead, I kept hiding them behind my closet because I did not know what else to do with them.

This year, my husband promised me a new closet for Christmas, so a few weeks before that, we were packing away all of my clothes before the carpenter turned the closet into a custom piece. Anyway, I was kneeling and pulling out the dolls when Andy, my husband, went pale.

“Where are those from?” he asked, pointing to the first doll. “From your mom, they’ve been my Christmas presents for all these years,” I said. “Five years? Monica, really?” Picking them up and rushing out of our bedroom, he said:

“Come with me.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, following him to the living room, where he threw all the dolls into the fireplace and lit a fire. It was the middle of winter, so the fireplace was constantly in use. “Please explain why you just did that,” I said, sitting on the couch.

Andy just looked at me, horrified. “Mon,” he said. “You know that our cultures are very different, right?” I nodded. Of course, I knew I was still learning about Andy’s culture. “Honey, these dolls are for cleansing the homes that they are put in. They remove all the negative energy. That’s their role — to absorb energy and protect the house.”

“That sounds good,” I said, intrigued by this story. But also a little spooked because Lina, my mother-in-law, never mentioned it. “Yes and no,” Andy said. “According to the legend, the dolls reach a point where they can no longer absorb any more negative energy.”

“When they can’t do it anymore, they begin to poison the air around them. Enveloping the house in diseases. They are said to literally make the air toxic,” he explained. “What?” I exclaimed, perplexed. “How can we fix this? They’ve been here for years!”

“Well, I know that burning them is a way to symbolically dispose of all the energy absorbed. So, that’s why I set them alight.” He said usually, incense had to be added and flowers as an offering. It had to be done outdoors, but he believed this should be okay for now.

“You’re being serious about all of this?” I asked. Andy nodded, elaborating, “It’s just tradition, but I didn’t know that this was what Mom gave you every year.” Later, after he scooped up all the ashes and took them to the nearby park to dispose of them, I phoned my MIL.

I just needed some answers about why she didn’t tell me about the dolls and their use. Lina answered the phone and listened to me in silence. The whole situation shook me. That Christmas, Andy and I decided to be more open about our family traditions, no matter how peculiar they seem.

Ultimately, it turned out to be a revelation that brought us closer and added a new layer of understanding to our relationship. Now, Andy and I talk about all his culture’s weird and wonderful superstitions, and I make recipes that date back to my great-grandmother’s time, as my family isn’t really cultural.

If you’re in a relationship with someone of a different culture, get to know everything you can — especially if dolls are involved! “It’s your responsibility, Monica,” Lina said. “You need to learn about our family traditions. Especially if you and Andy want to have children one day. Don’t accept gifts without understanding their purpose.”