I returned early from a work trip to surprise my hubby. Instead of a loving embrace, I discovered him sweating in the backyard, digging a hole, and burying a large black egg. He ignored my request to clarify. My own digging began. My pulse raced when I discovered.

Not slept in days. presentation after presentation, coffee after coffee, the Chicago business conference dragged on forever. The third day I was exhausted and mentally checked out. After three years of marriage, Nathan and I felt more like coworkers than soulmates. He was usually in his financial firm, while I flew around advising with IT clients. It had been over a month since we had dinner together.

After my final meeting concluded two hours early, I shut my laptop without hesitation.

“You skipped the VP’s keynote?” My coworker Jenna raised an eyebrow as I closed my suitcase.

“Yes, once. I must remember my husband’s appearance at home.”

She grinned. “Rachel Adams choosing love over career? Very new.”

“It’s overdue,” I responded, checking my phone for the next flight. “If I hustle, I can catch the 6:15 back to Denver and surprise him.”

Jenna half-joked, “Text me when you land. Surprise visits aren’t always romantic. People sometimes hide things.”

She had no idea how prescient those statements were.

I entered our driveway to find the Rockies painted in deep golden by dusk. Our house seemed quiet under a gold wash, and the porch light turned on automatically as I exited the automobile.

Something felt odd.

The front door was silent when I opened it. Staged silence, not calm.

“Nate?” Calling softly, I placed my bag near the stairs.

No reply.

The living room was messy. The table was covered in mail, including three urgent envelopes. Half a coffee mug sat abandoned on the kitchen counter with a thin ring of dried coffee on the lip.

 

I frowned. Nathan obsessively ordered. This was unlike him.

Maybe he’s in the office, I thought. I was drawn to the back entrance. A breeze moved the drapes, bringing home the smell of turned earth.

I went outside.

He was digging between tomato rows in our vegetable garden when I saw him.

He found a huge black egg half-buried in the ground.

The item was huge—at least two feet tall—and shiny like obsidian. It shimmered almost unearthly under the porch light.

Nathan rolled up his sleeves and shoveled frantically, sweating. He mumbled about digging deeper.

Just a little more… must be deep enough,” he said.

My heart stopped.

“Nathan?”

He jerked like I slapped him. The shovel smashed onto something metal in the dirt.

“Rachel?!” His panicked voice broke. “What are you doing here?”

I walked gently to the garden. I got home early. I wanted to surprise you.”

He rushed to cover my egg view. Not expected to be here yet.”

“Clearly. That’s what?

It’s nothing.” His voice was defensive and clipped. I mean it, Rachel. Go in.”

“Nothing? Why are you hiding a shiny black object in our lawn like a villain, and expect me to ignore it?

“I’ll explain later.”

“No, explain now.”

Dirt covered Nathan’s temple as he stroked his hair. He glanced at the street as if someone was observing.

“Please. Please trust me. I’m handling.”

Handling what, Nate? My voice grew. “From where I’m standing, you either need help—or you’re hiding something big.”

SAID I’M HANDLING IT! We were shocked by his outburst. We looked at each other in awe.

“I don’t even know who you are right now,” I muttered. I turned and entered.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The couch creaked under his weight downstairs while I lay awake in the dark. About 3 a.m., the back door clicked open. I crept to the window to watch Nathan patrol the garden like a security guard, searching for the strange egg’s burial site.

I needed to discover his secret.

I took a shovel and went outside the next morning as he left for work. My hands trembled as I plunged the blade into fresh earth.

After over twenty minutes of digging, I found something hard.

I found the egg. Close up, it looked fake. Unlike shells, it felt synthetic. Plastic.

After gently twisting it, it broke open like a huge, hollow Easter egg, and I gasped.

Empty.

Nothing inside. Just additional black plastic layers.

“Rachel?”

I leapt, nearly dropping it. Our elderly neighbor, Mr. Yamato, was across the fence.

“I saw someone in your garden late last night,” he continued. “Everything okay?”

“Yes—gardening,” I muttered, awkwardly concealing the egg behind my back.

The doubtful man raised an eyebrow but nodded and left.

I dragged the egg into the garage, tarped it, and put it behind the lawnmower. I sat on the concrete floor to understand what was happening.

What was this?

Why was Nathan rushing to bury it?

 

Was he concealing it from me or others?

Dazed, I drove to work. I needed some sanity to get through the morning.

The radio interrupted.

“—breaking news this morning as local law enforcement busts a massive antique collector and upscale hobbyist fraud ring. Many black, egg-shaped plastic containers were peddled as ancient fertility relics, according to authorities. Victims paid thousands or tens of thousands.

Heart racing, I braked hard and pulled over.

I knew. I knew Nathan was involved.

I waited with the egg on our kitchen table like a conversation starter from hell that night.

Nathan stopped when he entered.

His briefcase fell.

Rachel, I—

“How much?” I requested.

He slumped on a chair, pallid. Fifteen thousand.”

I closed my eyes, nauseous. “You spent $15,000 on a plastic egg.”

“I thought it was real,” he lamented. “A firm employee introduced me to a dealer. Supposedly a Tang dynasty fertile egg. The value will triple in a year, he said.”

“And you didn’t think to—oh, I don’t know—GOOGLE IT?” My voice broke.

He hid his face in his hands. Wanted to surprise you. I thought I could reverse it and take you on that Europe trip we always speak about.”

“The trip we’ve saved for? For 3 years? That money was used?

“I just… I wanted fixes. Mom’s medical bills. The HVAC fixes. Both of us are stressed. I considered making a grand gesture…

A little, my fury mellowed. He appeared broken. Stupidly well-meaning.

I sat alongside him. You thought burying it would help?

“I panicked. When I heard about the swindle, I was helpless. I thought I could spare you the disappointment if you never found it.”

Taking his hand. You fool. I don’t like Europe or antiques. I care about us. But you can’t keep excluding me when things go tough.”

“I filed a police report this morning,” he whispered. “I’m not alone. The entire ring is under investigation. I might get some money back.”

I leaned back, saying, “Well.” At least we have a good story.”

Nathan chuckled and sighed. “That time I tried to fix our marriage with a fake egg.”

“We could plant it,” I smiled. Properly bury it near tomatoes. Make it a monument to bad decisions.”

“Or a reminder,” he squeezed my palm, “that trust matters more than any treasure.”

We sat quietly and close.

 

He finally said, “I love you.” “Even when I’m stupid.”

I said, “Lucky for you, I’ve always had a soft spot for idiots.”