I hadn’t slept in many days. Three years of marriage, and lately, Ben and I had been like ships passing in the night, him with his investment banking and me with my consulting work.
When my last meeting finished early, I decided to surprise him with an early return.
“You’re really skipping the closing ceremony?” my colleague Linda asked, watching me pack my laptop. “The VP’s giving the keynote. Could be good for your promotion.”
“For once, my marriage comes first. Ben and I haven’t had a real conversation in weeks.”
“Regina, putting love before career?” she smiled. “Must be serious.”
“It is.” I checked my phone, calculating times. “If I leave now, I can catch the 6 p.m. flight and surprise my hubby.”
“Go get your man,” Linda winked. “But text me when you land. These surprise returns don’t always go as planned.”
If only she knew how right she’d be.
Something felt off the moment I stepped inside. The house was eerily quiet. Through the kitchen window, I could see dirty dishes in the sink — so unlike my usually meticulous husband.
A half-empty cup of coffee with a lipstick-like ring of dried coffee around its rim sat beside Ben’s laptop.
But as I approached the garden doors and stepped into the backyard, I FROZE.
Ben stood in the middle of our vegetable garden, between the tomato plants he’d been so proud of just weeks ago.
But it wasn’t his frantic movements that made my blood run cold. It was the LARGE, OBSIDIAN-BLACK EGG sitting beside him.
“Just a little deeper,” I heard him mutter. “Has to be deep enough to bury this thing.”
“Ben?” I called out softly, careful not to startle him.
His face, usually so composed, was pale with panic. A streak of dirt ran across his cheek, and I noticed his hands were shaking.
“REGINA?” He shrieked, his voice trembling and loud. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?”
“I came home early to surprise you.” I took a step closer, gravel crunching under my feet. The egg seemed to pulse in the lamplight, drawing my eyes. “Though I think I’m the one who’s surprised. What is THAT thing?”
“It’s NOTHING.”
“Nothing? Ben, I don’t think that’s ‘NOTHING.’ What is it? What’s going on?”
“I’ll explain later. Please go inside.”
“Later?”
“Please, Regina. Trust me on this. I’m just doing what needs to be done. I’m handling it.”
“Handling what exactly?” My voice rose. “Because from where I’m standing, my husband is either having some kind of breakdown or—”
Around 3 a.m., I heard the back door open and close. Through the bedroom window, I watched him check on the place where he’d buried the mysterious egg, pacing around it like a sentry.
What’s wrong with him? What is he hiding from me?
Morning came too quickly. I waited until Ben’s car disappeared down the street before grabbing the garden shovel.
I jumped, nearly dropping the egg. Our elderly neighbor, Mr. Chen, peered over the fence, his eyes fixed on the object in my hands.
“I saw someone in your garden late last night,” he said slowly. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” I said quickly, hiding the egg behind me. “Just… gardening.”
Something bigger was happening. Something that made my usually steady-handed husband dig like a madman in our backyard.
With trembling fingers, I wrapped the egg in an old blanket and tucked it behind the lawn equipment in our garage. It was out of sight, but not out of mind.
The radio clicked on automatically as I started the engine. The news anchor’s voice cut through my fog of exhaustion, making my blood run cold:
“Breaking news: Local authorities have uncovered a massive counterfeit operation targeting antique collectors. The scammers sold fa:ke antiques, including unique black egg-shaped plastic containers, to unsuspecting buyers. Total losses are estimated in the millions…“
“Reggie, I-I can explain—”
“How much did you pay for this thing?” I cut him off.
He sank into a chair, his shoulders slumped. “Fifteen thousand.”
“Jesus, Ben.”
“I wanted to surprise you.” His voice cracked. “This guy at work, he said he knew someone selling rare artifacts. Said the egg was some ancient fertility symbol that would triple in value within a year.”
“I know, I know.” He slumped forward. “When I realized it was fake, I couldn’t face you. Couldn’t admit I’d thrown away our money on a plastic egg.”
I squeezed his fingers. “I don’t need expensive trips or ancient artifacts. I just need my husband to talk to me, even when things get hard. Especially when things get hard.”
“As a reminder that the only thing we need to grow is our trust in each other.” I leaned against him. “And maybe as a conversation piece. ‘Hey, want to hear about the time my husband buried a fake artifact in our backyard?!'”
Ben’s laugh was shaky but real. “I love you, Reggie. Even when I’m an idiot.”
“Lucky for you, I love idiots.” I kissed his forehead. “Now, let’s figure out how to get our money back. Together this time.”
