My Husband Visited a Farm Every Month Until I Followed Him and Was Shocked to Discover What It Was Really About — Story of the Day

My husband claimed he needed time alone, so once a month he drove to a farm for fresh produce. I never doubted him—until the day I followed his car and saw where he really went. What I found there shattered everything I believed about our life and our love.

Why did no one warn me that adult life would be this hard? You always have to think about what groceries to buy, which apartment to rent, how to pay the bills, and where to find the money for all of it.

I wish it all came slowly, step by step. But adulthood hits you like a wave, pulling you into the deep waters and telling you to swim, even if you've never seen the ocean before.

I’m almost thirty, and I still don’t understand how people do it. Some days, I feel like I’m just pretending to be an adult, hoping no one notices how lost I am.

But having support makes things easier. My support was my husband, Jake. Marriage is about more than love and fun moments.

It’s also about sharing the hard days, the boring routines, and the quiet struggles. Jake was the one I leaned on when life felt too heavy.

We weren’t wealthy. I worked as a teacher, which had been my dream since I was little.

Helping kids learn gave me purpose. Jake worked in construction. He was strong, steady, and proud of his work.

We didn’t have fancy things—no new car, no fancy vacations, no big house. In fact, we didn’t own a house at all.

But we were happy. We had each other and did what we loved. What more could we want?

Jake had a funny habit. Once a month, he’d drive out to a farm to buy organic food—fresh fruit, vegetables, milk, eggs.

He said it made him feel peaceful, like he was closer to something real. I even thought about moving to the countryside someday, just for him. My job made it hard, but I would have done it. For Jake, I would’ve tried.

One day, while we were having dinner, Jake looked up from his plate. His eyes were fixed on mine.

His face looked tense, like he had been thinking about something for a long time.

"Listen, I've been thinking—we should buy our own house," Jake said.

I put my fork down. I was surprised but also hopeful. "That's a serious step, but I'd be happy. We can get a mortgage; we just need to calcula—"

He didn’t let me finish. His voice got sharper. "I don't want to spend my whole life paying off a mortgage," he said.

I looked at him, confused. "But we don't have other options. We can’t buy a house without a mortgage," I said.

Jake leaned back in his chair. "We can ask your parents for help," he said.

Those words felt like a punch to the stomach. He knew better. He knew my history with them. Even if he never met them, he knew what they had done.

"You know that’s impossible," I said.

Jake sighed. "Come on, Meredith, you’re not 18 anymore. How long are you going to stay mad at them?"

I could feel my body tense. "Are you kidding? My parents didn’t support me. They said that if I became a teacher, I would no longer be their daughter. Well, I became a teacher, so I don’t have parents anymore."

Jake looked away. "It’s been many years since then. I’m sure they’re not angry anymore."

"I don’t care if they’re angry or not. I have no desire to talk to them. They made their choice. I made mine," I said.

Jake’s voice rose. "But this is idiotic! They’re rich! And we could be rich too if you reconciled with them."

I stared at him. "Since when do you care about wealth?"

Jake didn’t hesitate. "Because I’m tired. I work hard every day. I fix roofs, carry bricks, wake up at dawn. I’m tired of denying myself things. I want a house. I want a good car. I want expensive vacations."

"We can earn those things. You can start your own company. You know people in construction. You’ve worked for years. You can build something yourself," I said.

"I don’t want to work like a horse all my life!" Jake shouted. "I want a luxurious life!"

That hit me hard. I felt like something cracked inside me. "I didn’t think you were like this. What happened to the Jake who loved the farm? Who said it made him feel calm and free? I even thought about moving to the countryside for you."

Jake laughed bitterly. "I want a mansion, not some shack in the village!" he yelled. "You know what? You’re a complete egoist. You won’t talk to your own parents, even if it means we could live better."

Then he stood up, he didn’t even look at me.

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"For a walk," he said and slammed the door.

I stood there in the hallway, shocked. I never thought Jake would turn into such a person.

Yes, my parents were indeed wealthy, and when I was little, I grew up in luxury. But I gave it all up to become a teacher. I wanted to live my life by my own rules.

That evening, I cried myself to sleep. I kept replaying the argument in my head, over and over, wondering how we got to this point.

Jake returned when I was already asleep, and when I woke up, he was gone.

I walked into the kitchen, hoping to find him there, but it was empty. On the table, I saw a small note in his handwriting: "Went to the farm." No "love you," no explanation. Just that.

I called his phone, but it went straight to voicemail. My hands shook a little as I held the phone.

I spent the whole day waiting. Jake didn’t text. He didn’t call. He came home late that evening, carrying bags of groceries.

He said nothing. He set the bags down, walked past me, and went straight to the bedroom.

I tried to speak, but he only muttered, “Everything's fine,” then closed the door behind him.

I stood in the kitchen, frozen. My heart was heavy, but I tried to stay calm. I even started considering calling my parents and reconciling with them, but I quickly dismissed the idea when I remembered how they had treated me.

As I unpacked the groceries, something caught my eye—a barcode sticker. Farm goods don’t come with barcodes. I stared at it, confused.

Before I could think more, Jake walked back in, smiling. He looked cheerful, like nothing had happened.

"Look," he said, stepping into the kitchen and holding out a phone. I wiped my hands on a towel and took it.

It was an advertisement for a house. Big windows. Fresh paint. A wide front yard. The place looked beautiful. Almost too perfect.

"What's this?" I asked, looking up at him.

"Our future home," Jake said with a smile.

"What? But how? We can't afford this," I said. I stared at the price, we couldn't afford it even with a mortgage

"Things at work will soon get better, and I'll be earning more," Jake said. "Besides, I decided to listen to you and realized that a mortgage isn't so bad."

He took a step closer. His voice got soft. "Aren’t you happy?" he asked.

"Of course, I’m happy, it’s just…" I stopped. My thoughts felt heavy. It was strange. Just yesterday, he had shouted about wealth. Now he was cheerful and talking about mortgages. The change felt too fast.

Jake pulled me into a hug. His arms felt warm. "Don’t worry about anything. I’ll take care of everything," he said. I nodded and smiled, but something inside me stayed tense.

Our life seemed normal again. Jake acted like nothing had happened. But I kept thinking about the house. Something didn’t feel right.

A week passed. One morning, while I stood at the stove, flipping pancakes, Jake came up behind me.

"I’m going to the farm now," he said.

"But you were just there a week ago," I said.

"Yes, but I want to buy more groceries," Jake said.

I turned and looked at the fridge. It was full. I didn’t ask more questions. I just remembered the barcode. Something was off.

After breakfast, Jake kissed me on the cheek and left for the farm. At least, that’s what he said.

I stood by the window and waited until his car turned the corner, then grabbed my keys and followed him.

I couldn’t ignore my gut anymore. Something didn’t feel right. Jake had changed, and I needed to know the truth.

I stayed a few cars behind so he wouldn’t see me. He drove fast, like he had somewhere important to be.

But it wasn’t the direction of the farm. I knew those roads well. This was the other way.

My heart started to pound as we entered a neighborhood I hadn’t seen in years—the one I grew up in.

I told myself it was a coincidence. Maybe he was visiting someone else. Maybe he was just taking a different route.

But when he slowed down and parked in front of my parents’ house, all the hope drained out of me.

I hadn’t been near that house in over ten years. I sat in my car, frozen. Then I saw him go inside.

My hands trembled as I got out and walked toward the fence. The old hole, the one I used to escape through when I was a teenager, was still there.

I slipped through it and crept toward the back door. I quietly entered the house and began to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“So when will you give us the money for the house?” Jake asked my parents. His voice was steady, like this was normal, like this was okay.

“Don't worry. Very soon,” my father said. “But you remember our condition?”

“Yes,” Jake replied without hesitation. “You would be able to come visit us whenever you want, and I would convince Meredith to become the director of your company.”

My mother clapped her hands together. “That is wonderful!” she said. “At least one of you has some sense.”

“And it's clearly not Jake!” I shouted as I walked into the living room, all three of them turning toward me.

“Meredith! I'm so happy to see you!” my mother cried out. Her arms opened like she wanted to hug me.

“What... what are you doing here?” Jake asked.

“Wasn’t this what you wanted? For me to see my parents?” I asked.

“We're very glad you finally came to your senses,” my father said.

“I came to my senses many years ago! And you're all delusional if you think this would work!” I shouted and turned to Jake. “How could you? Just sell me out like this? Sell me to my own parents!”

“And what did you expect?” Jake shouted. “I'm not going to support your nonsense about a simple life when we have a chance to live well and in luxury!”

“So you think our life before was bad?” I asked.

“No,” Jake said, louder now, “but I want us to have a better life!”

“We could have worked together for a better life!” I shouted. “We had dreams. We had plans.”

“Why?! When everything is handed to you, all you have to do is accept it?!” Jake shouted.

My father stepped forward. “He's right. We're ready to forgive you if you come back into our lives and start running my company.”

“Forgive me?” I turned toward him. “Forgive me? You're the ones who should be asking for forgiveness! You said I was no longer your daughter just because I refused to work in your company!”

“We all made mistakes,” my mother said softly. “But we can live like we used to.”

“You betrayed me!” I shouted. “Many years ago! And now you, Jake, have done the same. You betrayed me for money!”

“Come on, calm down, and let's talk everything through,” my father said.

“I am not going to calm down or have anything in common with you!” I said. I turned and walked toward the door.

“Meredith, wait!” Jake shouted.

I turned around and looked at him. “If you love my parents so much, take them—be a family. But I'm not playing this game. I'm filing for divorce.”

After those words, I walked out of the house and got into my car. My hands were shaking, but I started the engine and drove away without looking back. I didn’t want to see their faces. I didn’t want to hear one more word.

That moment changed everything. It helped me see clearly. I let go of the people who never truly cared about me.

I divorced Jake. It was painful, but it was right. Then I bought myself a house. It was small, quiet, and nothing fancy—but it was mine. I paid for it. I earned it.

My parents cut Jake off as soon as he was no longer useful. He came to me later, crying and begging, but it was too late. He made his choice. So did I.

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