From the start, he was kind and attentive, always willing to listen to me vent about my day, never once distracted by his phone or looking bored. He was everything I thought I needed.
What sealed my affection for him was when he showed up on my doorstep with homemade chicken soup and a collection of my favorite rom-coms. “Everyone needs a little TLC when they’re feeling down,” he said with that charming smile of his.
This is it, I thought. This is the man I’ve been waiting for.
One of the things that endeared Martin to me was his nervous stammer. When he was anxious or stressed, his words would stumble over each other, and I found it adorable. It made him feel more real, more human.
Like the time, a month into our relationship, when he took me to a fancy Italian restaurant for our “monthiversary.” He was passionately explaining the new accounting software at his firm, waving his fork around, when it slipped from his hand, sending tomato sauce all over his shirt. His face turned beet red.
“I-I’m s-s-sorry,” he stammered, looking mortified. “I d-didn’t m-mean to m-mess up.”
I reached across the table, took his hand, and smiled. “It’s okay. Red suits you.”
He laughed, and the tension melted away. That moment solidified my belief that he was someone I could truly be with.
As our relationship grew, Martin opened up about his past, especially about his ex-wife, Janet. He painted a picture of her as someone constantly chasing more—more money, more status, more things. “Nothing was ever enough for her,” he’d say, shaking his head. Their marriage crumbled under the weight of her demands, according to him.
“I couldn’t keep up with her. It felt like I was drowning, and she just kept pushing me under,” he confessed one night. I vowed I’d never be that way—I would love him for who he was, not for what he could provide.
So, when he proposed a year into our relationship, I didn’t hesitate. Our wedding was intimate and beautiful, and it was the happiest day of my life.
But last Tuesday, everything changed.
I had just returned from visiting my mother and decided to surprise Martin with his favorite lasagna. As I pulled into our driveway, I slammed on the brakes when I saw two figures digging in our garden—Martin and Janet.
For a moment, I thought my eyes were deceiving me. What were they doing together? And why were they destroying my garden?
I stormed out of the car and marched over to them. “What’s going on?” I demanded, anger rising in my voice.
Martin froze, dropping the shovel. “M-M-Margaret! Y-you’re h-home early!” His familiar stammer only confirmed my suspicions—he was hiding something.
All the worst thoughts flooded my mind. Was he cheating? Why was Janet here? Why were they digging up our yard?
“We were just…” Martin began, but Janet interrupted.
“She deserves to know, Martin,” she said, wiping her hands. “We buried a time capsule here, ten years ago.”
“A time capsule?” I echoed in disbelief.
“Yes, from when we lived here together,” Janet explained, gesturing to the metal box at their feet. “We always planned to dig it up someday.”
Martin looked sheepish. “Y-yeah, we thought it’d be fun to reminisce.”
I stood there, stunned. “So, you decided to destroy my garden for your little trip down memory lane?”
“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“No, you didn’t,” I snapped before walking into the house, slamming the door behind me. Inside, I paced back and forth, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. How could Martin keep this from me? And why on earth would he prioritize his past with Janet over our life together?
I heard the front door open and the sound of hushed voices. Then Martin called out, “Margaret? Can we talk?”
I stepped into the hallway, where they stood with the muddy time capsule between them.
“What’s there to talk about?” I asked coldly.
“Please, let us explain,” Martin pleaded. “It’s not what you think.”
Janet chimed in. “We just wanted to look back. There’s nothing more to it—”
“Fine,” I interrupted. “Go ahead and dig up the past. I’ll be outside.”
I stormed out of the house, feeling a mixture of anger and betrayal. As I looked at the mess they’d made of my garden, an idea formed in my mind.
I gathered wood for a bonfire. By the time the fire was roaring, the sun had set. I could hear Martin and Janet laughing inside, likely over something from the time capsule. I called out, “Why don’t you bring that stuff out here? We could have a bonfire.”
They joined me, bringing the capsule with them. I picked up a handful of its contents—old photos, letters, trinkets. Without hesitation, I tossed them into the flames.
“What are you doing?” Janet gasped.
“Burnt bridges should stay burnt,” I said firmly. “It’s time to focus on the future, not the past.”
As I watched the fire consume their memories, I realized something—Martin wasn’t the perfect man I thought I’d married. He was flawed, just like anyone else.
Janet backed away, her face pale. “I think I should go.”
Neither Martin nor I stopped her as she left. Once we were alone, Martin turned to me with tears in his eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Margaret,” he said. “I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t know how to tell you about the capsule. I was afraid you’d think I still had feelings for Janet. I just wanted to get it done before you came back. I messed up. Can you forgive me?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, staring at the fire. “You’ve broken my trust, Martin. That’s not something you fix overnight.”
“We have a lot to talk about,” I continued. “But not tonight. Tonight, I need some space.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” Martin said, defeated, before retreating into the house.
I stayed by the fire as it slowly died down. The garden would need to be replanted. New seeds, new life. Maybe our relationship could be the same.
Only time would tell which path we’d choose. But one thing was certain: Martin would never be the same in my eyes.
What would you have done if you were in my place?
Athlete’s Sweet Treat Turns Deadly: What Really Happened at Thanksgiving
It was Thanksgiving in Maine, and 11-year-old Oakley Debbs was on vacation with his family. Oakley, a top student from West Palm Beach, Florida, was also a star athlete, even though he had asthma and food allergies.
For the holiday, his family had ordered a Thanksgiving basket full of treats. Oakley chose to have a piece of cake from the basket.
Tragically, something went wrong after he ate the cake, leading to a heartbreaking event. His family and friends are now working to raise awareness and prevent similar incidents from happening to others.
Despite his asthma and nut allergies, Oakley loved playing tennis, football, soccer, and even running marathons. His family remembers him as a “brave and strong warrior” who fought hard against his conditions.
On November 24, Oakley Debbs, an 11-year-old, had a piece of pound cake that was left on the kitchen table where his family was staying in Maine. His mom, Merrill Debbs, said Oakley always checked labels to avoid nuts and didn’t see any warnings.
“He thought it was just a piece of cake,” his dad, Robert Debbs, explained. “But after he ate it, he mentioned it might have nuts.” Merrill agreed the cake had a nutty taste, which turned out to be walnut.
Merrill gave Oakley Benadryl, as they usually did for allergic reactions, and he said he felt fine. At that point, he only had a small hive on his lip.
But soon after, Oakley complained of chest pain and started vomiting. His parents called 911, but by the time the ambulance arrived ten minutes later, Oakley was blue. His airway had closed, and his heart had stopped.
I’m writing on behalf of Robert J. Debbs, Merrill Debbs, and Oakley’s twin sister, Olivia. It is with a heavy heart that I…
Posted by Tyler Debbs Squire on Saturday, November 26, 2016
The family struggled to accept Oakley’s tragic death and understand why he couldn’t be saved.
“I don’t think my beautiful, amazing son should have passed away,” Merrill said.
In response, the family started the Red Sneaker Foundation to teach people about anaphylaxis, a severe allergic reaction that can be life-threatening. They chose red sneakers as a symbol because Oakley loved them, hoping to increase awareness about food allergies.
Posted by Red Sneakers For Oakley on Thursday, December 1, 2016
Experts recommend using epinephrine for even mild allergic reactions. Merrill said, “Oakley was a rock star, a good kid. I always knew he’d make a difference—just not after he passed away. That’s a big part of why we’re doing this.”
Please share this story to help raise awareness about food allergies and prevent future tragedies.
Leave a Reply