Margaret never imagined she’d return home to see her husband, Martin, desperately tearing up their lovely garden with his ex-wife by his side.

The quiet urgency in their voices and the soil on their hands suggested secrets hidden for years.

When she confronted them, Margaret came to see that Martin wasn’t the flawless man she believed him to be.

I once believed my husband, Martin, was the perfect man—kind, attentive, and a comforting presence during a painful breakup.

We met through a friend, quickly fell in love, and bonded over small quirks and shared vulnerability.

Martin’s stories about his difficult marriage to his ex-wife, Janet, made me feel lucky to have someone so genuine.

However, everything shifted one Tuesday when I returned home early to surprise Martin with dinner.

Instead, I was sh0cked to find him in our yard with his ex-wife.

I sat in the car for a moment, blinking rapidly, wondering if my eyes were playing tricks on me. But no, they were there, digging up all the flowers I had worked so hard to grow.

At that point, I got out of the car and marched over to them.

“What’s going on here?” I demanded, my voice trembling with anger.

Martin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. “M-M-Margaret!” he exclaimed, dropping the shovel with a clang.

“Y-you’re h-home e-early.”

He’s stammering.

At that moment, all my worst fears came rushing in. Martin only stammered when he was truly stressed or nervous. But why?

What was he hiding?

Was he cheating on me with Janet? Had they never really broken up? Or was it something even more sinister?

Why else would they be digging up our yard in secret?

“W-we were just…” he started, but Janet cut him off.

“Oh, you didn’t tell her?” she began. “Love, she DESERVES to know that 10 years ago we buried a time capsule.”

“A time capsule?” I repeated numbly.

“Yes, we buried one when we were still together. When we lived here,” she revealed, gesturing to a muddy metal box near her feet.

“We always planned to dig it up someday.”

Martin nodded, “Y-yeah. We, uh, we thought it would be fun to look back on our memories.”

“Your memories,” I echoed. “So, you decided to destroy my garden for your little trip down memory lane?”

“I-I’m sorry,” Martin stammered.

“I d-didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t think,” I snapped before storming into the house.

Inside, I paced the living room, trying to process what had just happened.

Martin called out, “Margaret? Can we talk?”

I took a deep breath and stepped into the hallway.

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked coldly.

“Please, let us explain,” Martin pleaded. “It’s not what you think.”

Janet nodded.

“We just wanted to reminisce a bit. There’s nothing —”

I held up a hand, cutting her off.

“You know what? Fine.

Go ahead. Reminisce. Dig up your past.

I’ll be outside.”

I brushed past them and went outside. As I looked at the mess they had made of my garden, an idea formed in my mind.

So, I started gathering wood for a bonfire. By the time I had a good blaze going on, the sun had almost set.

I could hear Martin and Janet in the kitchen, laughing over something they’d found in the time capsule.

“Hey,” I called out. “Why don’t you guys bring that stuff out here? We could have a nice little bonfire.”

A few minutes later, they joined me outside, and Martin put the time capsule on the ground.

“This is nice,” he smiled.

I nodded and reached into the box to grab a handful of its contents.

I had a few old photos and letters in my hand.

“Margaret, what are you —” Martin started, but his words died in his throat as I tossed everything into the fire.

“What are you doing?” Janet demanded.

“Burnt bridges should stay burnt, don’t you think?” I said firmly. “It’s time to focus less on the past and more on the future we’re supposed to be building together, Martin.”

I watched as the flames consumed their memories, thinking this wasn’t how I imagined our life together. However, it also gave me hope that maybe we could build something new from here.

Something honest and real.

Looking at Martin, I also realized he wasn’t the perfect man I thought I’d married. He was just as flawed as the rest of us.

Suddenly, Janet broke the silence.

“I think I should go,” she said, backing away from the fire. Neither Martin nor I tried to stop her as she hurried out of the yard.

Once we were alone, Martin turned to me with tears in his eyes.

“Margaret, I’m so sorry,” he said.

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