When Brooke returns home from a weeklong work trip, she’s eager to unwind with her favorite snack. But her peanut butter jar is mysteriously half-empty. Her husband, Aaron, is allergic, so who ate it? Determined to uncover the truth, Brooke turns to their security cameras and discovers a shocking secret: Aaron had been hiding a guest. What starts as suspicion unravels into an emotional journey neither of them expected.
It was the first time in years I’d had a chance to take a work trip.
I love Aaron, my husband, but I can’t sugarcoat it. I was desperate for a break. Between his late-night gaming marathons and his refusal to load the dishwasher correctly (“You’re supposed to rinse the plates before putting them in, Aaron!”), I was at my wit’s end.
So, when my boss, Roger, asked me to present at a weeklong conference, I said yes probably faster than I’d said “I do.”
This was my chance to unwind, even if “unwinding” meant endless PowerPoint slides and horrible hotel coffee.
Before leaving, I went into full-on caretaker mode. I stocked the fridge with leftovers, froze a week’s worth of meals, and even restocked Aaron’s favorite snacks. And, because I deserved a little treat too, I grabbed a brand-new jar of peanut butter, the creamy, smooth kind that I loved.
I even wrote out a list of reminders:
Don’t forget to water the plants.
Call the plumber if the faucet drips again.
And, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t microwave metal.
I hadn’t even opened it, saving it for my return.
The trip itself was a whirlwind of networking and presentations, but I felt the stress melting away. For the first time in ages, I wasn’t mediating Aaron’s debate with himself over which socks to wear or whether the bed really needed to be made every morning (it does).
By the time I got home, it was late. I was exhausted from traveling. A missed flight and traffic home, could it get any worse? I was also starving. But the idea of cooking was laughable, so I headed straight to the cupboard for my comfort food: peanut butter toast.
But when I grabbed the jar, my stomach twisted.
It was half-empty.
I stared at it, my mind spinning. Aaron wouldn’t eat it. I mean, he couldn’t eat it. His peanut allergy wasn’t just severe, it was life-threatening. He’d made that clear when we started dating. Even a speck of peanut could send him to the hospital.
Which is why I was so adamant about eating my peanut butter when Aaron was out of the kitchen, and why I cleaned up after myself immediately.
So, what the hell happened?
My first instinct was to dismiss it. Maybe I’d misremembered. Maybe I’d opened it before leaving and had forgotten. But deep down, I knew better.
Something wasn’t right.
“Hey, babe? Did someone come over while I was gone? Like, one of your friends? Or your sisters?”
He popped his head around the corner, looking confused.
“Nope, it was just me, but I did meet Nathan for beers one night,” he said. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, no reason,” I said, forcing a smile.
But inside? My heart raced. My husband’s tone had been too casual. Too dismissive.
So, I pressed on.
“But are you sure? Like… there were no visitors? No one stayed over here?”
Aaron furrowed his brow.
“I’m pretty sure, Brooke. It’s been a boring week. Why do you keep asking? Who said what?”
“Just checking to see if you got lonely, honey, that’s all,” I said.
Aaron laughed.
I shrugged it off, but my mind was working overtime. If Aaron hadn’t eaten the peanut butter, and no one else was there, then who, or what, did?
That night, I couldn’t sleep. The image of the jar haunted me like a bad horror movie. It didn’t add up. And Aaron’s casual dismissal only made my unease grow.
I knew I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but the worst-case scenarios kept playing in my head. Was he lying to me? Hiding something? Seeing someone else? The thought made me nauseous.
The next morning, after Aaron left for work, I decided I couldn’t let it go.
We’d installed security cameras two years ago after a break-in scare, and though I rarely checked them, now felt like the perfect time to play detective.
I pulled up the footage on my laptop, scrolling through the timestamps with trembling hands.
Day 1: uneventful. It was Aaron’s day of working from home, so there he sat, working at his desk. Making coffee. Making a sandwich. Pacing during phone calls.
Day 2: more of the same.
Day 3: I was unprepared for what I saw.
Aaron came back from a jog, dripping in sweat. But he wasn’t alone. He was holding a leash.
“What the heck?” I muttered to myself.
I leaned closer to the screen, my heart racing, as a scruffy, golden-brown dog trotted into the house behind him.
A dog.
A dog?
I blinked, thinking I’d imagined it. But there it was.
Aaron led the dog inside and sat it down on the couch like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then he went straight to the cupboard, grabbed the peanut butter jar, and scooped out a generous spoonful.
He knelt down, holding it out. The dog licked it clean, wagging its tail like crazy.
My jaw dropped.
Aaron, the peanut-allergic, pet-averse, obsessed-with-gaming man, who insisted that our house was “too small for a dog,” was sneaking one into our home. And feeding it my peanut butter, no less!
The footage showed more over the next few days. The dog lounged on the couch, played in the backyard, and even slept on our bed. A bed that Aaron always claimed was too pristine for pets. Especially cats.
By the time Aaron got home that evening, I was ready to confront him.
“Aaron,” I said, arms crossed, watching as he put his laptop bag down. “Do you have something you’d like to tell me?”
He froze, blinking slowly.
“Uh… no, Brooke. Why?”
“I checked the cameras,” I said flatly.
His face turned bright red.
“Oh. Oh!”
“Oh?” I repeated. “Aaron, there was a dog in our house. Care to explain?”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“Okay, okay, Brooke. You caught me. But let me explain first.”
“Please do,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
He hesitated, then spilled the story.
“I’ve always wanted a dog, Brooke,” he said. “You know that, don’t you? It’s just that you’ve always wanted a cat… and I can’t see myself with a cat. So while you were gone, I thought… maybe I could foster one, just for a week. I went to the shelter, and there was this stray. She looked so sad, Brooke. I couldn’t leave her there.”
I stared at him, torn between anger and disbelief.
“You fostered a dog behind my back?!”
“Yes,” he admitted, his voice soft. “But I swear, I was always going to take her back before you got home.”
“And the peanut butter?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Aaron chuckled nervously.
“Well… the shelter staff said that it was her favorite treat. I didn’t think you’d notice.”
“Aaron, you’re allergic to peanuts! What if you’d accidentally touched it or something?”
“I was careful, honey,” he said quickly. “I used gloves and washed my hands every time.”
I sighed, rubbing my temples.
“Where is she now?”
My husband’s face fell.
“I had to take her back yesterday morning. The foster period ended.”
The sadness in his eyes was almost too much. My frustration melted as I realized how much this meant to him. Aaron wasn’t sneaking around for fun, or having some random people over to eat my peanut butter, he was trying to fulfill a lifelong dream.
I took a deep breath.
“Why didn’t you just tell me? We could have talked about this?”
I wasn’t mad, not really. I just felt like my husband hadn’t trusted me enough to talk to me about these things.
“I didn’t think you’d agree,” he said quietly. “And you always said that dogs made you sneeze.”
I thought for a moment.
“What if we found a hypoallergenic breed? A poodle or a Maltese? Something that wouldn’t trigger my allergies? They’re mild allergies, honey, but I’d rather we not risk it.”
My husband’s eyes lit up.
“Are you serious?” he gasped.
“Yes!” I exclaimed. “If it means that much to you, we’ll make it work.”
A month later, we adopted Daisy from a shelter. Daisy is a tiny white Maltese who doesn’t shed and she barely triggers any of my allergies. That little girl quickly became the center of our world, especially Aaron’s.
And watching him bond with her, seeing the pure joy on his face, made every odd sneeze worth it.
And as for the peanut butter? Daisy and I share it now. Though, I do make sure that Aaron doesn’t sneak her too many spoonsful.
What would you have done?
