”That’s why we broke up,” he explained one night as we cuddled on the couch. “I just couldn’t keep up with her demands anymore. It was like I was drowning, and she kept pushing my head underwater.” How could anyone treat such a wonderful man so poorly? I thought. That day, I vowed that I would never be like that. I would appreciate Martin for who he was, not what he could give me.When Martin proposed a year into our relationship, I didn’t hesitate to say yes. Our wedding was small but beautiful, and it was the best day of my life. Fast forward to last Tuesday. I had just spent the weekend at my mother’s place and was looking forward to getting home. I decided to surprise Martin with his favorite lasagna for dinner. However, as I pulled into our driveway, I saw something that made me slam on the brakes too hard.There, in our front yard, were two people digging up my beloved garden. And not just any two people. It was Martin and a woman I recognized from photos as Janet, 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. What was Janet doing here? Why was she with Martin? And why on earth were they destroying my garden?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, I thought. 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?My mind raced with possibilities. 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, looking sheepish. “Y-yeah. We, uh, we thought it would be fun to look back on our memories.” “Your memories,” I echoed.
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