A Family Truth Best Left Unknown
Oliver was heading home early. All his university lectures on Friday had been unexpectedly cancelled, so he decided to surprise his parents by arriving a day ahead. They weren’t expecting him until Saturday. He smiled, picturing his mother’s delight—how she’d fling open the door, gasp with joy, and pull him straight to the kitchen to feed him homemade pie.
He knocked, but there was no answer. Odd—his mum was usually home by now. He fumbled for his keys, but before he could unlock the door, it swung open. His mother stood there, flustered, hastily tightening her dressing gown.
“Oliver?! Why are you here today?” Her voice trembled.
“Thought I’d surprise you,” he said, stepping inside—then froze.
A stranger walked out from the kitchen. Mid-forties, dishevelled hair, a shirt buttoned unevenly, and no tools in sight. Not a neighbour, not a family friend, not an uncle. Just a man he’d never seen before.
“This is… Michael,” his mother said quickly. “He’s here to fix the tap. Started leaking this morning, can you believe it?”
“Michael,” Oliver said flatly. “Do you always fix taps in a dress shirt and without tools?”
The man muttered something about needing to leave and slipped past him, red-faced.
When the door shut, Oliver turned to his mother.
“What was that?”
She kept her eyes down, silent. Anger burned in his chest as dark thoughts spun through his mind.
“Mum… are you cheating on Dad?”
“It’s not that simple—”
“Seems pretty simple to me!” he snapped. “You’ve betrayed him!”
“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me!” she shot back.
“Will you say the same to Dad when I tell him?”
She sank onto the hallway bench as if his words had weighed her down.
“Don’t… Oliver, please… don’t tear this family apart.”
“*I’m* tearing it apart? *You* did that! Dad worships you, and this is how you repay him?”
“Where *is* he, your father? Always at work! I’m trapped here, alone—”
“You could get a job, join a gym, take a class. You *chose* to stay home. Don’t blame Dad for that.”
“You don’t understand… I haven’t felt loved in years. We’ve grown apart.”
“Then divorce him! Or are you scared of losing the money?”
“How *dare* you!” She leapt up. “I’ve worked just as hard as him! Raising you, keeping this house—and I *do* love him! This was a mistake, a moment of weakness…”
Oliver grabbed his coat, unable to listen.
“Where are you going?” she pleaded.
“Out. I can’t be near you right now.”
“Promise me… don’t tell your father. It won’t happen again. I swear—”
He left without another word. For hours, he wandered the streets, nursing a coffee, wrestling with his thoughts. At first, he was certain—he’d tell his dad everything. But doubt crept in.
That evening, he returned and found his mother in the kitchen.
“I’ll keep quiet for now. But if I ever see Michael here again, I’m telling Dad.”
She nodded. “Thank you…”
The weekend passed in suffocating silence. His father remained oblivious, but Oliver couldn’t bear to look at his mother. He visited less often. The trust between them was broken.
Weeks later, Oliver forgot his gym kit at his parents’ house. When he returned for it, he spotted *him* outside—Michael. Any hope that it had ended vanished.
“He was here,” he accused his mother.
“We only talked—”
“So you broke your promise.”
The next day, Oliver went to his father’s office.
“Dad… we need to talk. It’s hard, but I can’t keep this secret anymore. Mum’s cheating on you.”
Robert Wentworth paled. “You’re sure?”
“I’ve seen 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 he didn’t look back.
He rented a flat and drowned his sorrows in pubs. His mother withdrew completely, sinking into depression, barely leaving the house.
Oliver knew he’d done the right thing. The truth had to come out. But guilt gnawed at him. Maybe ignorance *was* bliss. If a lie was the only thing keeping them happy, was it worth destroying everything?
The questions haunted him for a long, long time.
