I was surprised to see Michael that morning. He caught my eye while I was strolling along Main Street in our former hometown, getting my normal cup of coffee. He was standing outside the coffee shop where we used to go after school. He was tall, recognizable, and had a trace of gray in his hair.He turned and just stared for a moment. Then his face lit up with a broad smile. Like I remembered, he remarked in a soft voice, “Is that really you?” “I never imagined you would be back here!”
“The same here!” I chuckled. “What are the chances?”
As before, we made the decision to get coffee together. Everything in the store felt like it had in those days. The smell of fresh pastries and the counters made of aged wood. Time seems to have rewound itself.
We spent hours that day catching up on everything and nothing through our conversations. We chuckled about old tales, such as how we used to write notes for one another in history class or how we once got lost while hiking. The hours vanished.
Before we knew it, we were phoning each other every day. Coffee evolved into lunch, which in turn evolved into lengthy walks. There was something so effortless and organic about his presence.
Michael made the proposal a few months later. One evening, it was just the two of us sitting by the lake.
With a steady yet passionate voice, he declared, “I don’t want to waste any more time.” “I cherish you. I’ve loved you forever. Will you wed me?
I didn’t even think twice. “Yes,” I muttered, my eyes welling with tears. We got married two months later.
We traveled to his family’s house, where we had spent many afternoons as children, following the wedding. Nothing had changed in the house. The old oak tree in the yard was still there, and the wallpaper in the hallway was identical.
When I returned later that night after getting dressed, Michael was perched on the side of the bed and appeared to have changed. He had lost the comfortable smile he usually had. In his hands was a little, battered notebook.
Michael? Sitting next to him, I inquired. “Is everything all right?”
He took a moment to glance at me. His fingertips traced the edge of the notebook, his eyes fixed on it. “I need to share something with you.”
I got a shiver from the tone of his voice. “What is it?”
He inhaled deeply before looking me in the eye. “This notebook belongs to my mother,” he said. She made notes regarding our family. Regarding something she deemed significant.
“All right.” I spoke slowly, not really comprehending.
I took it from him and opened it. Each page was packed with clean, looping script for pages and pages. He started by saying, “My family has this… belief.” Indeed, a curse. I realize that seems absurd, but they think it’s real.
“A curse?” I arched my eyebrows in an attempt to conceal my doubt as I asked.
He gave a nod. According to my mother, any woman who marries into the family is doomed to misfortune. A tragedy. Pain. She claims that it has been happening for generations.
When I noticed the concern in his eyes, I nearly burst out laughing. “You don’t really believe this, do you, Michael?”
He looked torn as he ran a hand through his hair. “I’m not sure. It’s only an old family superstition, I’ve always told myself. However… You know I’ve seen things. My mom and dad didn’t have a particularly happy marriage. Let’s just say that things didn’t work out well for my uncle either.
I took his hand and squeezed it comfortingly. You see, that is meaningless. Many people find marriage to be difficult.
He smiled somewhat, but there was still trouble in his eyes. He answered, “Maybe you’re right,” but he didn’t seem persuaded.
A week following the wedding, little calamities started to accumulate. First, we were unable to travel anywhere due to a flat tire just before we left for our honeymoon.
I forced a laugh and assured him, “Just bad luck.”
Things took an odd turn back home. My company, which I had spent years developing, began to lose customers. Numerous negative assessments surfaced online, some of which were written by individuals I had never even collaborated with. I made every effort to rectify it, but to no avail. My work seemed to have been cursed.
Then our home was broken into. Although nothing useful or significant was taken, psychological harm was done.
Michael also took note. One night, he whispered, “You think this… this curse could be real?”
I quickly said, “Of course not,” but I was beginning to have second thoughts. “There must be a reason for everything. Perhaps it’s simply I’m not sure—a phase.
The pivotal moment occurred shortly before Thanksgiving. Michael’s mom demanded that we throw the celebration at our house. She seemed upbeat during our phone conversation regarding the menu.
I put my phone on the couch after the call and grabbed a book, then settled in to read. However, I heard voices when I flipped the page. The phone remained in contact.
“Are you certain that this curse nonsense is still effective?” With a frustrated tone, Michael’s father asked her.
Without thinking, I hit the record button right away.
She chuckled. “It always works. Take a look at her! Her company is already having trouble, and Michael is so consumed by his worries that he is barely able to think clearly. And after I destroy her turkey, I’ll finish this.
“Enough,” he said to Marianne. “Enough good women from our sons have already been frightened away by you.”
She remarked in a chilly tone, “I’ll do what I have to if they’re not right for my boys.” “I am aware of what is best for them.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Feeling numb, I hung up the phone, mentally repeating what she had said. She was responsible for all of those odd things, including the flat tire and the negative reviews. No curse was present. Everything was a fabrication, a devious ploy to manipulate her sons and their spouses.
I sat across from Michael that night, my hands shaking as I gripped my phone. “Michael,” I started, “I need you to hear something.”
His brows wrinkled in anxiety as he gazed at me. “What’s the matter?”
His mother’s voice filled the room as I hit play.
As he attempted to comprehend what he had heard, Michael’s eyes darted from the phone to me in shock. His voice was thick with incredulity as he muttered, “This… this has to be a mistake.” “My mother would never—” she wouldn’t
I grasped his hand. “I heard everything,” Michael said. She has been attempting to separate us.
At last, he turned to face me, his expression determined. “I need her to tell me. I need both of them to tell me the truth.
Late that evening, we reached his parents’ home. With a startled expression, Michael’s father opened the door for us. “Is everything okay, Michael?”
His face white with rage, Michael shoved past him. “Where is Mom?”
His father stepped back as his face collapsed. “Please, Michael, just relax.”
His voice was strained as he said, “I am calm.” “But, Dad, I need answers.”
Marianne’s eyes darted to her husband, who refused to look at her, as if surprised. “What are you discussing?”
My phone was held up by Michael. “Mom, I heard you. You and your father discussing the curse. I’m talking about your interference. making women feel cursed and frightening them away.
Her attitude changed from one of pretended bewilderment to one of cold calculation. “I’m not sure what you believe you heard, Michael, but—”
“Marianne, you know what you said,” his father whispered softly as he moved forward. “There’s no use in disputing it.”
Her eyes flashed as she spun around on him. “You dare not!”
“Do I not dare?” His father shook his head, appearing worn out and exhausted. “I have not spoken for years. observed you chasing away every lady that Michael or his siblings had ever had feelings for. seen you mess with people’s lives, ruin them, and lie because you believed you knew what was best. It has lasted long enough.
As Michael’s gaze shifted from his father to his mother, his face twisted. He muttered, “So it’s true?” “Everything?”
Her face started to well up with tears. “Michael, I did it because I love you.”
He stepped back and shook his head. “This isn’t affection. This is in charge.
There was a thick quiet in the room. Then came his father, in a tired voice. “Believe me, Michael, I have attempted to reason with her. However, she feels that she is acting morally.
Michael turned to face his father, hurt in his voice. “You allowed her to do this? After all these years?
His dad cast a downward glance. “I feared losing my family.” I hoped she would quit eventually. that you would have the strength to… escape it.
Michael fell silent. He took my hand and guided me to the exit. His shoulders dropped in defeat as he gazed up at the sky outside. His words was no more than a whisper as he looked at me. “I really apologize. for everything.
I gave his hand a squeeze. “We are now at liberty, Michael. That is the only thing that counts.
However, I felt the burden of the past, the sorrow of a family shattered by secrets, and a mother’s misplaced attempts at love as we made our way to the car. We were leaving the curse and his mother behind, but it would take time for Michael’s heart to recover.
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