When Caroline read the words “I’M PREGNANT” on her husband Daniel’s phone, she laughed it off as a mistake. But when another message followed, this time inviting him to dinner, she knew she had to uncover the truth. What she discovered that night was a secret Daniel had hoped to keep buried.
What would you do if you found a message from a stranger that said, “I’M PREGNANT,” on your husband’s phone? Would you laugh it off as a mistake? Or would it consume you, gnawing at your thoughts until you had to uncover the truth?
I’m Caroline, 42, and I’ve been married to Daniel for 12 years. We have two boys, ten and five, and we’ve built a messy, beautiful life together. I’ve never had a reason to distrust him. We’ve always shared everything — our phones, our plans, and our dreams.
Portrait of an emotional woman | Source: Midjourney
If his phone buzzed while he was out of reach, he’d just say, “Can you read that for me?” That’s why, when his phone pinged last Tuesday while he was rinsing dishes, I didn’t think twice.
I picked it up and saw a text from an unknown number: “I’M PREGNANT.”
At first, I laughed, calling out to him, “Wrong number, babe. Someone’s telling you they’re pregnant!” I was already reaching to show him the screen.
Daniel turned his head, water still running, and smiled briefly. “Weird,” he said, shrugging. “Just delete it.”
A shocked woman staring at a phone | Source: Midjourney
That night, as I lay in bed, the memory of his dismissive tone gnawed at me. I rolled over to face him in the darkness.
“Daniel?” I whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Mmm,” he murmured. “What’s wrong?”
“Remember that text today? It just felt… strange. The way you brushed it off.”
He reached for my hand under the covers. “Caroline, honey, you’re overthinking this. Come here.” He pulled me closer, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.
An anxious man | Source: Midjourney
“It’s just… you didn’t even look at it. Aren’t you curious who might have the wrong number?”
“It’s probably just spam,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Let’s not let some random text ruin our peace, okay?”
I hesitated. Something about how quickly he dismissed it felt off, but I told myself I was being paranoid. It was probably just some poor woman texting the wrong number, right?
But then, two days later, there was another message. This one made my stomach twist: “Will be waiting for you at La Bella Vita on Friday. Got a reservation at 7 p.m. See you then. Love you.”
A startled woman looking at a smartphone | Source: Midjourney
I stared at the screen, my heart pounding in my chest. This wasn’t a mistake. It couldn’t be. The first message was strange enough, but this one? It was clear. This person wasn’t texting the wrong number — they were texting MY HUSBAND.
That night, as we sat on the couch after the kids were in bed, I casually asked, “Hey, have you gotten any more weird messages from that number?”
Daniel didn’t even flinch. “No,” he said, reaching for the remote.
I pressed further. “Are you sure?”
He glanced at me briefly, his expression calm but dismissive. “Yeah! Someone’s just messing around. Forget about it, honey.”
A man lying in his bed and smiling | Source: Midjourney
I grabbed the remote from his hand and switched off the TV. The screen went dark, but my mind buzzed with suspicion. Why would Daniel lie to me?
By Friday, the message had completely consumed my thoughts. My husband claimed he had a work meeting that night and would be home late.
“I’ll just eat with the boys,” I said casually, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Sorry, babe,” he said, pulling on his jacket. “I’ll make it up to you this weekend.” He kissed the top of my head and walked out.
As soon as the door closed, I grabbed my keys and called the babysitter. My hands were shaking so badly I could barely dial the number.
“Yes, ma’am?” our regular sitter, Jenny, answered.
“Jenny, I need you to come over. Right now. It’s an emergency.”
A distressed woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“Is everything okay?” she asked, concern evident in her voice.
I choked back a sob. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know anymore.”
La Bella Vita was one of those upscale restaurants where couples celebrate anniversaries and job promotions. It wasn’t the kind of place you went for a casual meal.
I sat in my car in the parking lot, gripping the steering wheel. My stomach churned, and for a moment, I wondered if I should just drive home. But then I thought about the texts from the stranger. If I ignored this, I’d never be able to forgive myself.
I caught my reflection in the rearview mirror. “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. “Whatever happens in there, you deserve the truth.”
At 7:30, I walked inside.
An agitated woman sitting in a car | Source: Midjourney
The hostess greeted me with a smile. “Do you have a reservation?”
“No,” I said, scanning the dining room behind her. My heart stopped when I saw Daniel sitting at a table near the window.
He wasn’t alone. His hand was on HERS.
There was a young girl, maybe 17 or 18, sitting across from him. Her face was animated, her hands gesturing as she talked. Beside her was an older woman — close to my age, but dressed in a way that screamed “trying to impress.”
And Daniel? He was smiling. The girl’s hand rested lightly on his as he listened to her.
Close-up shot of a man holding a woman’s hand | Source: Pexels
My legs felt like lead as I walked toward them. Each step felt like walking through quicksand, my chest tightening with every breath.
“So, this is your ‘work meeting’?” I hissed.
Daniel’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Caroline!” he said, half-standing. “Wh… what are you doing here? How did you…? WELL, I’M SO GLAD THAT YOU CAME!”
“Are you?” I asked, folding my arms.
“Please,” he said quickly, pulling out an empty chair. “Sit down. I can explain everything.”
A furious woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I glanced at the two women. The younger girl looked confused, but the older woman? She looked annoyed, like I’d just crashed something important.
“Who is she?” the older woman demanded, her eyes narrowing at Daniel. “You didn’t say anyone else was coming.”
“She’s my wife, Caroline. I didn’t know she was coming,” Daniel admitted, his voice strained. “Caroline, please, sit down.”
I sat down, my eyes never leaving Daniel. “Start explaining.”
Daniel took a deep breath. “This is… complicated. Caroline, this is my daughter, Sophie. And this is her mother, Lisa.”
His words didn’t make sense. “Your DAUGHTER?” I repeated.
An anxious man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
My head literally started spinning. I gripped the edge of the table to steady myself when Daniel nodded, tears slowly brimming in his eyes.
“A daughter?” I whispered. “All these years… all these years we’ve been together, and you never once mentioned —”
“Because I didn’t know!” Daniel’s voice cracked. “Caroline, look at me. I swear on our boys’ lives, I had no idea until a few weeks ago.”
“A few weeks?”
“Yes,” he said, leaning forward. “She’s 18. I didn’t know about her until a few weeks ago. Lisa and I dated in high school. We broke up, and… I had no idea she was pregnant when we broke up. She raised our child… alone.”
Grayscale shot of a pregnant woman | Source: Unsplash
I turned to Lisa, who was sitting stiffly in her chair. “You’ve known for 18 years and never thought to tell him?”
Lisa’s expression hardened. “We didn’t exactly part on good terms. And honestly, I didn’t think he’d care.”
“Didn’t think he’d care?” I snapped. “Then why now? What made you decide to contact him?”
Sophie spoke up for the first time, her voice small. “Mom always said he left us…”
A sad young girl in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“That’s not true,” Daniel said firmly, his eyes glistening. “Sophie, I would never have abandoned you. Never.”
Lisa’s face flushed. “Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it? We’re here because Sophie’s pregnant.”
I blinked, stunned. “She’s PREGNANT?”
Lisa nodded. “And I don’t want her to make the same mistakes I did. The man has to take responsibility, and as Sophie’s father, Daniel needs to help us… financially.”
An annoyed woman frowning | Source: Midjourney
My jaw clenched as I turned to Daniel. “Financially? You didn’t think to discuss this with me first?”
“Caroline,” Daniel started, “I was going to tell you —”
“When?” I cut him off. “Before or after you handed them a check?”
Sophie burst into tears. “I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I didn’t want any of this. Mom insisted…”
Lisa crossed her arms and glared at me. “This is none of your business. It’s between my daughter and her father.”
“None of my business?” I laughed bitterly. “This absolutely is my business. If Daniel’s going to support you financially, it’s coming out of OUR budget. The budget that feeds our children, pays for their school, and their future.”
A frustrated woman with her arms crossed | Source: Midjourney
“Your children?” Lisa sneered. “Sophie is his flesh and blood too!”
“Stop it!” Sophie cried out. “Just stop! I can’t take this anymore!” She pushed back from the table, her chair scraping loudly against the floor.
“Sophie, wait —” Daniel reached for her, but she pulled away.
“I never wanted money,” she said, tears streaming down her face. “I just… I just wanted to know my father. To know if he would’ve wanted me if he had known.”
A distressed young girl | Source: Midjourney
Daniel’s face crumpled. “Of course I would have wanted you. Sophie, please —”
I watched the scene unfold, something nagging at the back of my mind. Sophie’s outburst felt… rehearsed somehow. Like a performance designed to tug at our heartstrings.
Years of teaching drama to fifth graders had made me pretty good at spotting the difference between genuine emotion and acting. And something about this felt off.
A suspicious woman staring at someone | Source: Midjourney
I turned to Daniel, my voice low and steady. “If you’re going to help them, fine. But we need proof. A DNA test to confirm she’s YOUR daughter, and a medical certificate confirming the pregnancy. Until then, we’re not committing to anything.”
Lisa’s face turned red. “How dare you question us?”
“Because this affects MY family too,” I said firmly. “If you’re telling the truth, you shouldn’t have a problem proving it.”
The meeting ended awkwardly. Lisa stormed out, dragging Sophie with her, and Daniel stayed behind, his head in his hands.
A woman storming out of the room | Source: Pexels
“Caroline,” he said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to keep this from you. I just… I didn’t know how to handle it when Lisa and Sophie texted me. Lisa said she got my number from one of my college friends.”
I reached across the table and lifted his chin. “Look at me. Did you really not know about Sophie?”
His eyes met mine, filled with pain and regret. “I swear to you, I had no idea. When Lisa contacted me… it was like my whole world shifted. She told me that I have a daughter, Caroline. A daughter I never knew existed.”
“You should have started with the truth,” I said, standing up. “From now on, that’s the only thing I’m willing to accept.”
The next few days were tense. Lisa sent a few more texts asking for money, but Daniel stuck to my request for proof. When we insisted on a DNA test, the messages stopped altogether, and both their numbers were suddenly disconnected.
A woman seeing her phone | Source: Midjourney
One night, I found Daniel sitting alone in the dark, staring at his phone.
“What if she really was my daughter?” he whispered. “What if I just lost my only chance to know her?”
I wrapped my arms around him from behind. “If Sophie is your daughter, she’ll find you again.”
A week later, Daniel got a call from an old friend and was shaken to his core.
“Lisa has pulled this trick before with her ‘pregnant daughter,’” he told Daniel. “Same story, different guy, pal. Both Lisa and Sophie are running a scam. They target Lisa’s exes from high school, claiming Sophie is their long-lost child. Last year, they got ten grand from Mike — her ex before she started dating you — and disappeared from town before he figured out the truth.”
A shocked man talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney
That night, as we lay in bed, Daniel finally broke down. The sobs that wracked his body were unlike anything I’d ever heard from him.
“I really thought…” he choked out. “For a moment, I really believed I had a daughter.”
I held him close. “You were naive… but don’t let anyone take advantage of your kindness again.”
Daniel hugged me tight, tears in his eyes. “Thank you for being strong when I wasn’t,” he whispered.
I kissed his cheek. “We’re a team, Daniel. But if you ever lie to me again, that team is over.”
He nodded, pulling me closer. “Never again,” he promised. “Our family is everything to me. Everything.”
A couple comforting each other | Source: Pexels
As we drifted off to sleep, I thought about how easily a few text messages had almost shattered our world. And how a stranger’s fake tears had nearly cost us not just money, but our trust in each other.
I held Daniel closer, grateful that we’d emerged stronger, wiser, and more united than before. Sometimes the hardest moments show us exactly what we’re made of and what we’re worth fighting for.
A woman smiling | Source: Midjourney
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
I Was Invited to a Christmas Date On-Air, Only to Find Two Men Claiming to Be My Mystery Caller — Story of the Day
I never expected my Christmas to turn into a whirlwind of romance and betrayal. Invited to a magical on-air date, I thought I’d met the perfect man. But when two strangers claimed to be him and my choice led to heartbreak, I realized the real story had only just begun.
Christmas Eve at the radio station had its own rhythm—a predictable loop of cheerful jingles and festive classics. I sat in my usual spot, the studio chair that felt more like a throne on nights like this, doling out holiday cheer to an invisible audience.
The perks of being single?
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No mulled wine spills to dodge or awkward family questions about my love life. Just me, the mic, and a playlist that screamed “holiday magic.”
“Coming up next, another yuletide classic to warm your night,” I said, my voice practiced and smooth. “And remember, Santa’s listening, so be good—or at least, be better than you were yesterday.”
The station phone lines had been busy all evening with cheerful callers sharing wishes and stories. But then his voice cut through the static—a rich, warm timbre, like caramel over snow.
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“Hi,” he began, with the kind of confidence that could charm a Scrooge. “I’d like to dedicate a song.”
I leaned into the mic. “For someone special, I hope?”
“Yes,” he replied, a playful smile almost audible. “To the voice that’s made countless lonely Christmases a little less lonely. This one’s for you.”
I froze, blinking at the control board as a flush crept up my neck.
Is this a prank?
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“Well, that’s certainly… unique. I don’t think a song has ever been dedicated to me before,” I said, hoping my voice sounded professional and not as flustered as I felt.
The text line exploded. Messages popped up on my screen:
“Who is this guy?!”
“Are we witnessing a Hallmark movie in real time?”
Even my producer sent a teasing emoji.
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We kept talking, the conversation flowing like mulled cider—warm, unexpected, and oddly comforting. Before I realized it, I’d confessed my favorite Christmas tradition: visiting the small park near the mall, where an anonymous benefactor transformed the place into a symphony of twinkling lights and classical music.
“It sounds magical,” he said. “Maybe we should meet there.”
The words hit me like a snowball to the face. I hesitated.
Am I really about to agree to an impromptu date on-air?
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“Why not,” I heard myself say, my professionalism now teetering on thin ice.
The listeners erupted. Calls poured in, and the station’s social media lit up like Times Square.
My boss texted a single word: “Genius.”
By morning, the chaos hadn’t subsided. I nursed a cappuccino in a café corner, replaying the surreal night in my head. My colleague Julie strolled in like she owned the season, a wide grin plastered on her face.
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“You’ve officially gone viral,” she said, sliding into the seat opposite me. “They want you to host a matchmaking segment now. You’re basically Cupid in headphones.”
“Wonderful,” I replied, trying to sound enthusiastic, though my nerves buzzed louder than the café’s espresso machine.
A date. A promotion. A spotlight brighter than any Christmas star.
Has Christmas finally decided to take me off its naughty list?
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***
The park sparkled under the glow of fairy lights, each bulb casting a golden shimmer over the freshly fallen snow. The air hummed with soft, festive melodies, wrapping the scene in holiday magic. I clutched my coat tighter, my nerves jingling louder than the carols.
That night felt surreal—a blind date with the man whose voice had captured me live on air. But as I approached the towering Christmas tree, I stopped short.
There were TWO men.
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For a moment, I froze, blinking as if the scene might change if I adjusted my angle. It didn’t. Both men turned to face me, their smiles as bright as the decorations.
“You must be Anna,” said the taller one, stepping forward with a confidence that bordered on cinematic.
His mischievous grin seemed permanently etched, and he carried himself like he knew how to own the spotlight.
“Steve,” he added, extending his hand like it was part of a performance. “Your Christmas caller.”
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I managed a polite smile, my brain trying to connect the rich, teasing voice I remembered with the man in front of me. It seemed right. He certainly “felt” like the kind of person who would call a radio station to make a bold move.
Before I could respond, the second man stepped forward. He was shorter, with a warm but hesitant smile. His scarf was wrapped too tightly around his neck, and he adjusted it nervously as he spoke.
“Actually, that’s me,” he said, his voice soft but strangely familiar. “Richard. I called last night.”
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I blinked again, my gaze bouncing between them. Their voices were eerily similar.
Maybe the faint crackle of the radio had blurred the distinction.
But their energy couldn’t have been more different.
“Look, I know this is a little unexpected,” Steve said with a wink, “but isn’t this the kind of thing Christmas movies are made of? Two guys, one magical night… all for you.”
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Richard frowned. “I don’t think this is a competition.”
I stifled a nervous laugh. “This… is definitely not how I pictured tonight going,” I admitted, my breath fogging in the chilly air.
“Well,” Steve said, flashing that million-dollar grin, “we can stand here debating, or we can let the night decide. How about a shared date? Best man wins.”
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Richard hesitated, glancing at me for approval. “If that’s okay with you.”
“Sure,” I said before I could overthink it. “Why not?”
Steve wasted no time, taking charge like he was the director of the evening. He orchestrated an entire scene at the hot cocoa stand, juggling marshmallows and making the vendor laugh until tears streamed down his face.
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“Extra whipped cream,” he declared, sliding the cup toward me with a wink. “Because someone as sweet as you deserves nothing less.”
Richard handed me a second cup. “Just in case you prefer less sugar.”
As we moved to the snowball fight area, Steve dove in like an action hero, dramatically shielding me from flying snow.
“No snowball shall touch this woman!” he shouted, earning cheers from nearby kids.
Richard, meanwhile, knelt beside me, crafting a tiny snowman with a crooked smile.
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“I thought he might need a bodyguard,” he joked softly, adjusting the snowman’s stick arms.
The carousel was where my heart started to waver. Steve pulled out his phone for a selfie—“for the fans,” he said, holding it high as his perfect smile filled the frame.
Meanwhile, Richard reached out to steady my carousel horse as it wobbled slightly.
By the time we returned to the meeting point, Steve leaned against the tree, his grin never faltering.
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“So, what do you say? Christmas with me? I promise to keep it unforgettable.”
Richard, standing just out of the spotlight, stepped forward and gently took my hand. His touch was warm despite the cold. “Thank you. For giving me a chance.”
And then, without another word, he turned and disappeared into the glimmering lights. Richard stepping back felt like a graceful exit, sparing me the awkwardness of making a choice and possibly hurting someone.
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Besides, it all made sense. The voice from the radio, full of confidence and charm, couldn’t have belonged to anyone but Steve. His boldness, the way he carried himself, his easy humor—it matched perfectly with the man who had captured my attention on air.
“Smart choice,” he teased. “But let’s get out. This park’s too… romantic for my taste anyway. Honestly, who thought meeting here was a good idea?”
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I blinked. “You mean… you suggested it! It’s my favorite spot, remember?”
“Did I? Huh. Funny. I’d almost forgotten.”
Why did he forget something like that? And why did it sound like he hadn’t even meant it? Maybe I chose the wrong man?
***
Determined to make an impression, I had spared no effort. The soft fabric of my new dress hugged me just right, my hair shone like it had a personal lighting crew, and the subtle shimmer of my makeup felt like magic dust.
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When I reached Steve’s grand townhouse, I almost believed it could be a Christmas to remember. Clutching my carefully wrapped gift, I adjusted the hem of my dress and pressed the doorbell.
Steve opened the door. “You look stunning. Come in.”
I stepped inside. Couples clustered in small groups, laughing over glasses of wine.
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And then I saw her.
Julie stood near the fireplace, her dress impeccable and her posture exuding smugness. She came to Steve and looped her arm through his in a way that spoke volumes before she even opened her mouth.
“There you are,” she purred, her voice like syrup laced with poison. She leaned in and kissed Steve on the cheek, her eyes never leaving mine. “Thanks for coming. Isn’t he just wonderful?”
I froze. Her words landed like tiny barbs, but her next ones hit harder.
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“You’ve got great taste in men. Too bad you’ll always come second.”
A wave of polite laughter rippled through the room, but I couldn’t reply. Gripping my coat, I turned and walked out into the cold. The bitter wind stung my cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest. The magic of the Christmas night had vanished.
***
Back home, I flopped onto the couch, burying my face in a pillow. Julie’s words played repeatedly in my mind, each cutting deeper than the last. I had trusted Steve’s charm, let myself believe in the fairytale, and ended up humiliated by my envious coworker.
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As I lay there, the soft hum of the radio filled the room, playing the same festive tunes I’d spun a hundred times before. My fingers reached out automatically to turn up the volume.
Then I heard it—a voice I recognized instantly.
“It’s Richard,” he said, his words measured but full of heart. “I don’t know if you’re listening, but I’m waiting in your favorite spot. If you’re willing to take one more chance, I’ll be here.”
Richard? Waiting?
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I bolted upright, my pulse quickening. I grabbed my coat and headed out into the night without a second thought.
When I arrived at the park, the sight stopped me in my tracks. The Christmas tree was brighter than ever, draped in shimmering lights that seemed to reach for the stars. The soft strains of classical music floated through the air, wrapping the moment in something that felt like magic.
And there he was. Richard. He stood under the glowing tree, his hands in his pockets, his expression nervous but determined.
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“I know I’m not perfect in real life. My voice on-air did,” he said, his voice trembling as his eyes met mine. “But I want to try to be for you.”
The world around us blurred, the music fading into the background. There were no grand gestures, no flashy charm. Just Richard, honest and vulnerable. For the first time in years, the emptiness of Christmas was replaced with something else entirely.
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If you enjoyed this story, read this one: I came to the island searching for peace, a fresh start to heal from my past. Instead, I found HIM—charming, attentive, and everything I didn’t know I needed. But just when I started to believe in new beginnings, a single moment shattered it all.
This piece is inspired by stories from the everyday lives of our readers and written by a professional writer. Any resemblance to actual names or locations is purely coincidental. All images are for illustration purposes only. Share your story with us; maybe it will change someone’s life
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