After marrying the boy I’d loved since childhood, I thought our fairytale had finally come true. However, everything changed the night he handed me a notebook filled with his mother’s hidden truths.

Running into Michael that morning was the last thing I expected.

While I was just picking up my regular coffee, strolling Main Street in our old hometown, I saw him.

Tall, familiar, a touch of gray at his temples—he stood outside the café where we used to hang out after school.

“Michael?” I called, almost unsure.

He turned toward me before a broad smile spread across his face. “Is that really you?” he asked, his voice just as warm as I remembered.

“I never thought I’d run into you here again!”

“I know!” I said with a laugh. “What are the chances?”

We made a decision to grab coffee together, just like old times. Inside the shop, everything felt like it had back then.

The old wood counters and the smell of fresh pastries. It was almost like time had rewound itself.

We chatted for hours that day, catching up on everything and nothing. We laughed over old stories, like the time we both got lost on a hike or how we’d leave each other notes in history class.

The hours melted away.

Coffee turned into lunch, lunch turned into long walks, and before we knew it, we were calling each other every day. There was something so easy, so natural about being around him.

Some months later, Michael proposed. It was simple, just him and me, sitting by the lake one evening.

“I don’t want to waste any more time,” he said, his voice steady but full of emotion.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes,” I whispered, tears filling my eyes.

Two months later, we tied the knot.

After the wedding, we drove to his family home. 

Later that evening, after I’d freshened up, I came back to find Michael sitting on the edge of the bed, looking… different. His usual easy smile was gone. He was holding a small, worn notebook in his hands.

“Michael?” I asked, sitting down beside him.

“Is everything okay?”

He didn’t look at me right away. His eyes were on the notebook, fingers tracing the edge. “There’s… something I need to tell you.”

The tone of his voice sent a chill down my spine.

“What is it?”

He took a deep breath, finally meeting my gaze. “This notebook is my mom’s,” he said quietly. “She kept notes… about our family.

About something she thought was important.”

“Okay…” I said slowly, not quite understanding.

He handed it to me, and I opened it. Pages and pages of neat, looping handwriting filled every page. “My family has this… belief,” he began.

“A curse, actually. It sounds ridiculous, I know, but they believe it’s real.”

“A curse?” I asked, eyebrows raised, trying to hide my skepticism.

He nodded. “My mom says that any woman who marries into the family… is cursed with bad luck.

Tragedy. Pain. It’s happened for generations, or so she says.”

“Michael, you don’t really believe this, do you?”

“I don’t know.

I’ve always told myself it’s just an old family superstition. But… I’ve seen things, you know? My dad’s marriage to my mom wasn’t exactly smooth.

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