Was this where Eric’s mistress met him? But the longer I sat there, the more I realized that nobody was going to show up. He just sat there, staring at his phone, then stretching out with his pillow and blanket.
It was just him, alone, in the dark. For the next few nights, the same routine played out. Eric would go to the park, curl up in the front seat, and spend hours there before driving home.
My mind was just spinning. Why would he sleep in his car unless he was hiding something? Why suffer through all that discomfort unless it was for someone else?
On the tenth night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had had enough. I needed answers.
After putting the kids to bed, I locked them in and drove out to the park. This time, I wasn’t just going to watch from the sidelines. No, we were too far into this.
I pulled up next to his car and tapped on the window. Eric looked up, startled. He quickly unlocked the door and motioned for me to get in.
The air between us was thick with unspoken words, and as I slid into the passenger seat, all my emotions came rushing to the surface. “What the hell is going on, Eric?” I demanded. “Why are you doing this?
Be honest, are you seeing someone? Is that why you’re here? Are you afraid that the kids would see or find out?”
I spoke too fast, as though all the words just needed to fall out as quickly as possible.
Eric sighed deeply, rubbing his face with his hands. I could see the exhaustion in him now, the kind that went deeper than just losing sleep. It was like he’d been carrying a weight he didn’t know how to put down.
“No,” he said quietly. “It’s not like that, I keep telling you. There’s no one else.”
“Then what is it?” I pressed on.
“You’re scaring me, Eric. Why are you out here every night?”
He glanced at me, then reached into the backseat, pulling out a small stack of books and a recording device. “I didn’t want you to know,” he said softly.
“Because I just didn’t want to worry you. But I’ve been out here recording bedtime stories for the kids.”
I blinked slowly. “Bedtime stories?
Why would that worry me?”
He hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. “I went to the doctor a few weeks ago. They found something, a tumor.
A biopsy was done, and the results came back. It’s cancer, Nella. And it’s bad.
Borrowed time is all I have.”
It felt like the ground had crumbled beneath me. I couldn’t breathe. “What?” I gasped.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to put that on you,” he said. “I wanted you to be normal around me, and with the kids. But I also wanted to make something for the kids to remember me by.”
I grabbed his hand and held it tightly, as the reality of what he’d been hiding hit me all at once.
This wasn’t about some other woman. This was about my husband preparing for a future that I didn’t want to imagine. “I refuse to let you go through this alone,” I said.
“We’re going to face this together, Eric, whatever it takes.”
He nodded, tears slipping down his face, just as they slipped down mine. The months that followed were a blur of doctor’s appointments, treatments, and nights spent huddled together, clinging to each other as we tried to stay hopeful. Eric spent all this time with the kids, playing with them and taking them on walks if he could manage it.
He made them pancakes for dinner and pizza for breakfast. He told them that they could choose their Halloween costumes months in advance. And he fought harder than I ever imagined, but despite everything, the disease was relentless.
He’d known from the start that the odds were against him. He’d known it when he started recording those stories in his car, preparing for the worst while still trying to give us the best of himself. “I’ll try for as long as I can,” he promised me one night when we were in bed.
“But I’m getting… tired.”
“I know, my love,” I said, gripping his hands under the covers. “Whatever you do, listen to your body, too. Rest when it tells you to.”
Eric passed away in the quiet hours of a winter morning.
I remember the stillness of the house, how empty it felt without him there. Our kids, so young and full of life, didn’t yet grasp the enormity of the loss. But they sat at the funeral, looking glassy-eyed and lost.
Just like me. A few days after the funeral, when the house was filled with the muted sounds of family members and well-wishers, I finally felt ready to listen to those recordings. I went out to his car and took the recorder out of the bag he had left it in.
I scrolled through the files, seeing the familiar titles of the kids’ favorite stories. But then, one caught my eye:
Our Story. I took a deep breath and pressed play.
His voice was warm and steady and filled the space around me instantly. “Once upon a time,” he began. “There was a princess.
She was kind, smart, and braver than any knight in the land. But most of all, she had the biggest heart anyone had ever known.”
I smiled. “One day, she met an ordinary man, just a guy from a village with no title, no riches.
But the moment he saw her, he knew his life would never be the same.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I listened, his voice wrapping around me like a hug I so desperately needed. “The princess and the man lived many happy years together,” he continued. “Raising a prince and princess together.
And even though the man grew old and weary, he knew that his princess would go on. She would continue to rule their home… with love and strength.”
Eric’s voice faltered on the last words. I could almost imagine his upset face.
“So, my love,” he said softly. “If you’re listening to this, know that you were my fairytale. You turned my ordinary life into something extraordinary.
And even though I can’t be with you anymore, your fairytale must go on.”
It was just what I needed. And now, whenever the days feel too heavy, I listen to Eric’s voice again. And somehow, I can smile again.
What would you have done? Source: amomama
