Her husband handed her the plain paper bag, but when she opened it, Olivia gasped in astonishment.

  • “Victor, this is beautiful!” she exclaimed, her eyes fixed on the contents. “Where did you ever find such a treasure?”

Victor stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes gleaming with pride.

  • “Oh, I had to sift through a lot of junk, but I wanted to get you something special,” he said, clearly pleased with the impression he’d made. He felt like a winner, a man in control of his life. Maybe divorce wasn’t the answer after all. Olivia, with her gentle and calm nature, was the complete opposite of Sophia, whose impulsiveness could be exhausting. Life with Olivia was easy; they had come so far together… Maybe it was better to leave things as they were.

Olivia excitedly lifted the antique box from the bag and, unable to contain her delight, began to examine it closely.

  • “Vic, thank you so much!” she whispered, captivated by the gift.
  • “Well, how about feeding your starving husband?” Victor said playfully, giving her a sly wink. He was obviously pleased with himself.
  • “Oh, yes, of course!” Olivia said, snapping out of her daze. “I’m sorry, I got carried away. This piece is just so unusual, I can’t put it down.”

Dinner was a cheerful affair for Olivia; not even her mother-in-law’s grumbling could spoil the evening. Tamara complained, as usual, that all the housework fell on her shoulders, despite the fact that they had a housekeeper, Anna, who came several times a week. Nevertheless, her mother-in-law insisted she was the one running the house and that no one appreciated her efforts. Olivia once again offered to help, but was sharply rebuffed.

After dinner, Victor retreated to the patio with his phone and a cup of tea, as he always did. Even in the evening, his mind was on work: calls, negotiations, deals. Olivia had no interest in any of it, so she washed the dishes and hurried upstairs to their bedroom to admire her gift again.

The new present seemed to call to her; she couldn’t wait to hold it in her hands and once again appreciate the beauty of the antique piece. She had always adored such items, finding a special charm in them. This passion was likely inherited from her grandmother, who also collected various old things—porcelain statues, decorative plates. Her grandmother had treated them with reverence and had taught her granddaughter to value the beauty of objects with a soul and a history.

Olivia often wondered what hands these items had passed through, what stories they could tell if they could speak. Some might have been lost during a war, others passed down through generations. Each object was tied to someone’s destiny, and that fascinated her.

Running her fingers over the lid of the box, Olivia felt the delicate patterns, every detail of the intricate carving. She wondered what had been kept inside. Opening the box, she suddenly froze. Inside lay a simple, folded piece of paper, written on with a modern ballpoint pen.

The note was short but devastating: “Your husband is a cheater. He is unfaithful to you.” Olivia, stunned, read the lines over and over, as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. She tried to process whether this message was really for her. Her heart began to pound, blood rushed to her head, and her thoughts spun into a vortex of confusion.

Who could have written this note? How did it get into the box? And what if it was true? Lately, Olivia herself had noticed how distant Victor had become. He was staying late at work more often, talking to her less, and their intimate life had clearly changed. Maybe she just hadn’t wanted to see the warning signs, but now they were laid bare before her.

She tried to push the unpleasant thoughts away, making excuses for her husband’s behavior. But now, holding this letter, Olivia couldn’t help but wonder. Her heart was racing, but she knew she needed to approach the situation with a clear head. Maybe it was just someone’s cruel joke, or an old note from the box’s previous owner?

Olivia tried to calm herself. This could be someone else’s story; maybe this note isn’t even for me, she thought. Business was a tough game, demanding constant engagement, and Victor always said the competition was brutal. Maybe it was all just stress, or age? All of it could explain his behavior. There’s no point in jumping to conclusions. I need to figure this out, she decided firmly.

Olivia knew she couldn’t ignore such a serious accusation. She went out to the patio, where she saw her husband whispering quietly into his phone. When he noticed her, he quickly ended the call, muttering, “Alright, talk later,” into the receiver. This only added another layer to her suspicions.

  • “Victor, where did you buy this box?” Olivia decided to start the conversation cautiously, trying not to arouse his suspicion.

Her husband smiled, looking completely at ease.

  • “There’s a new antique shop that opened up near my office,” he answered breezily. “It wasn’t cheap, of course, but nothing’s too good for you.”

There wasn’t a hint of insincerity in his voice.

  • “And you didn’t look inside?” Olivia pressed, keeping her eyes fixed on him.

Victor tensed slightly, caught off guard by the question, and froze for a second.

  • “No, honestly, I didn’t. What’s wrong, Liv? Why all the questions?”

Olivia silently held out the note to him, watching his reaction closely. Her husband took it, glanced at the text, and immediately flushed with indignation.

  • “What is this? Are you seriously suggesting this is about me?” he snapped, his gaze turning sharp and defensive.
  • “I don’t know what to think,” Olivia answered quietly, feeling completely bewildered.
  • “This is ridiculous!” Victor continued, his voice rising. “Do you think someone planted this in the shop? Some ‘well-wisher’ or a salesman trying to make a quick buck?” He bombarded her with questions, trying to regain control of the situation. “Olivia, think about it. Where’s the logic in that?”

Olivia paused. He was right; the logic was on his side. Her doubts began to fade, and she reluctantly admitted that she might have overreacted. She had to apologize to Victor for her unfounded suspicions, though he didn’t seem satisfied. He pursed his lips in an offended manner, making it clear that forgiving his wife’s lack of trust wouldn’t be easy. Despite this, the mysterious note continued to trouble her, and she spent a restless night, her mind filled with questions that had no answers.

The morning was bright and sunny. As the first rays of light pierced through the blinds, Olivia woke up instantly. It was her day—a day she especially wanted to look her best. The birthday girl, barely awake, rushed to the bathroom to get ready.

But what she saw in the mirror didn’t bring her the usual joy. Her face was no longer as fresh and youthful. Her skin had lost its firmness, and a fine line had etched itself between her eyebrows, a permanent mark of the worries of recent years. Thirty-six isn’t twenty, she thought sadly, studying her reflection.

Her figure, of course, was still the same—slim, almost girlish—but her eyes… her eyes were different. The once-bright, sparkling blue pools of her youth had become dull, clouded ponds, hiding a multitude of unspoken emotions. The lightness and joy that everyone used to notice in her gaze were gone. She was no longer the cheerful, energetic girl who had once captivated Victor.

There was a time when she was the center of attention, with many admirers. Three men had seriously competed for her hand. Why had she chosen Victor? The question occasionally surfaced in her mind. It was probably because in him she saw stability, the “rock” she had always dreamed of sheltering behind.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Victor’s muffled, slightly annoyed voice from outside the door.

  • “Liv, are you going to be much longer? I need to get ready for work.”

Olivia came out of the bathroom, a little flustered, and asked in surprise:

  • “Work? I thought you were staying home with me today. We could go for a walk, like we used to. Go to a café…”

Victor shook his head, planting a quick kiss on her cheek as he passed.

  • “Sorry, but work is swamped. I can’t. I’ll be back tonight, and we can have a quiet evening then,” he threw over his shoulder, not bothering with details.

A heavy weight of disappointment settled in Olivia’s chest. The only time we’re alone is in the bedroom. And not even always then, she thought sadly, watching her husband hurry to put on his coat. In the early years of their marriage, Tamara was a constant interruption, always finding a thousand excuses to call for her son. If the young couple tried to have a moment alone, she suddenly needed help finding her glasses or moving furniture. Only her father-in-law, John, had the authority to rein in his wife.

How often Olivia thought of him. John had been a true example of kindness and tact. He was the one who laid the foundation for the family business, which Victor inherited after his death. Olivia had always had a warm, trusting relationship with him.

  • “Liv,” he had once told her, “Victor doesn’t even realize what a treasure he has in you. The most important thing for a man is a reliable wife, a faithful partner who will always be by his side. I’m so glad he has you.”

Unfortunately, John had passed away far too soon. The couple had barely celebrated their second anniversary when the tragedy struck. The blow changed their lives. After her father-in-law’s death, many things were different.

Victor, after a quick breakfast, left for the office, leaving Olivia alone on her birthday. The disappointment in her husband’s behavior grew. It felt as though everything was falling apart—their relationship, her life, everything.

Olivia realized she needed a distraction. The idea of baking a cake for dinner came to her. A Napoleon or a honey cake—it doesn’t matter, as long as it’s homemade, she thought. Sure, she could just go to a bakery, but a homemade cake was always warmer, more personal. I need to start now so it has time to soak by tonight, she decided, heading for the kitchen.

Fired up with the idea of baking, she started bustling around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients from cabinets and the fridge. She was already imagining the family enjoying her homemade dessert that evening. However, her plans were soon interrupted by her mother-in-law, who was watching her with a sour expression.

  • “What do you think you’re doing?” Tamara asked with clear irritation.
  • “I want to bake a cake,” Olivia replied cheerfully, turning on the stand mixer.
  • “What cake?” her mother-in-law huffed. “I spent all day at the farmers’ market yesterday, got a ton of berries. I was going to make jam. And you’re going to be in my way with your cakes.”
  • “Maybe we could make the jam tomorrow?” Olivia suggested, trying to keep the peace. “It’s my day off too, I can help you. Or we could even do it this afternoon.”
  • “I don’t need your help,” Tamara snapped. “I said, don’t occupy the kitchen! I have my own things to do. You should have thought of this earlier!”

Olivia tried to explain again:

  • “Tamara, please, it’s my birthday today. I wanted to bake a cake so we could all have some tea together tonight.”
  • “A birthday! Big deal! It’s not a milestone, you’ll live!” her mother-in-law retorted coldly, and with that, the conversation was over.

A wave of hurt washed over Olivia. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she knew it was pointless to argue with this woman. No matter how hard she tried, in all their years of living together, her mother-in-law had never accepted her, and every effort to get closer was met with a cold wall of animosity. Olivia couldn’t stay in this house any longer, especially on her birthday. Grabbing her purse and quickly changing her clothes, she ran out the door.

It was better to spend the day alone than to listen to the endless accusations and grumbling of that hateful woman. On the bus, an idea struck her: what if she went to the shop where Victor bought her gift? Maybe she could find out more about the mysterious note. However, after walking around the entire block near his office building twice, Olivia couldn’t find a single antique shop. This only upset her more.