The Family Truth No One Wanted to Know
Ethan was on his way home. All his university lectures had been unexpectedly cancelled that Friday, so he decided to surprise his parents by arriving a day early. They weren’t expecting him until Saturday. He smiled, imagining his mother’s face when she opened the door—her gasp of delight, the way she’d pull him inside and fuss over him, insisting he eat a slice of her homemade pie.
He reached the front door and knocked. Silence. Strange—his mum was usually home by now. He fumbled for his keys, but before he could slide them into the lock, the door swung open. There she stood, flustered, hastily tightening the belt of her dressing gown.
“Ethan?! Why are you here today?” Her voice wavered.
“Wanted to surprise you,” he said, stepping inside—then froze.
A stranger emerged from the kitchen. A man in his mid-forties, hair dishevelled, shirt buttoned crookedly, and not a tool in sight. Not a neighbour, not a family friend, not an uncle. A complete stranger.
“This is… Mr. Collins,” his mother rushed to explain. “He came to fix the tap. It started leaking this morning, can you believe it?”
“Mr. Collins,” Ethan said dryly, “do plumbers usually work in shirts and without tools?”
The man, flustered, muttered something about needing to leave and hurried past them.
When the door clicked shut, Ethan turned to his mother.
“What was that?”
She looked down, silent. His chest burned with anger, thoughts spiralling—each one worse than the last.
“Mum… are you cheating on Dad?”
“It’s not that simple—” she began, but he cut her off.
“Seems pretty simple to me. You’re betraying him!”
“Don’t you dare speak to me like that!” she snapped.
“Will you say the same to Dad when I tell him?”
She sank onto the hallway bench as if his words had weight.
“Please… Ethan, don’t… don’t tear this family apart.”
“*I’m* tearing it apart? *You* did that! Dad worships you, and this is how you repay him?”
“And where *is* he, your father? Always at work! I’m trapped here, alone—”
“You could’ve gotten a job, joined a gym, taken a class! You *chose* to stay home. Don’t blame Dad.”
“You don’t understand… I haven’t felt loved in years. We’ve become strangers.”
“Then *leave him*! Or are you just afraid of losing the money?”
“HOW *DARE* YOU!” She shot up. “I worked just as hard as he did! I raised you, drove you to clubs, kept this house! And I *love* him… It was a mistake, a moment of weakness…”
Ethan couldn’t bear it. He grabbed his jacket.
“Where are you going?” she cried.
“Out. I can’t be here right now.”
“Promise me… don’t tell your father. It’ll never happen again. I *swear*.”
He left without answering. For hours, he wandered the streets, drifting into cafés, thinking, stewing. At first, he was certain—he’d tell his father everything. But doubt crept in.
By evening, he returned, waiting for her in the kitchen.
“I won’t say anything… *yet*. But if I ever see that man again, I *will* tell him.”
“Understood. Thank you…”
The weekend passed in suffocating tension. His dad remained oblivious, but Ethan could hardly look at his mother. He visited less often. The warmth he once felt for her had turned to ash.
A fortnight later, Ethan realised he’d left his gym kit at his parents’. When he returned to fetch it, he saw *him* outside the flat. Mr. Collins. Any hope that it had ended vanished.
“He was here,” he spat at his mother.
“We only talked—”
“So you broke your promise.”
The next day, Ethan went to his father’s office.
“Dad… we need to talk. This is hard, but I can’t keep it in any longer… Mum’s cheating on you.”
James Whitmore went pale.
“You’re sure?”
“Saw him twice. I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”
His father stood by the window, silent for a long time. That evening, he packed a bag and left. His mother sobbed, begged for forgiveness. But his father didn’t look back.
He rented a flat and drowned himself in drink. His mother, in turn, collapsed into depression. She stopped leaving the house, fading a little more each day.
Ethan told himself he’d done the right thing. The truth had to come out. But guilt gnawed at him. Maybe ignorance was better. Maybe if a lie was the only thing keeping them happy, he should’ve let the illusion stand.
The questions haunted him for years.
