I Asked a Friend to Repair My Husband’s Phone — What He Found Inside Made My Blood Boil

When Denise’s husband tells her his phone is broken, she takes it to an old college buddy for repairs. But when she picks up the phone later, her friend shows her a note inside that proves her husband is hiding a dark secret.

I never would’ve imagined that a lost pair of earbuds would lead me to the most devastating discovery of my life.

There I was, dressed and ready for my morning jog when I realized I must’ve lost my earbuds in the Uber that brought my husband, Andrew, and me home the previous evening. I rushed into the kitchen, where Andy was making coffee.

“Babe, give me your phone, please?” I held out my hand. “I need to look at your call history.”

A man with a guilty expression | Source: Pexels

A man with a guilty expression | Source: Pexels

Andrew went pale as a sheet. “No, you can’t,” he replied quickly.

Now, I’m not going to claim Andy and I have a perfect marriage. We argue and sometimes get on each other’s nerves, but that’s normal, right? On this occasion, something about his response raised a red flag.

“Why not?” I asked.

“It’s… dead.” He looked away as he replied, stirring his coffee like it was the most important thing in the world. “I, uh, dropped it this morning.”

A woman staring forward | Source: Pexels

A woman staring forward | Source: Pexels

It was so obvious he was lying that I was speechless for a minute. I didn’t understand what was going on. Then I started thinking about all the times he’d come home late recently.

I also noticed strange appointments in his calendar when I double-checked the date for his parents’ upcoming anniversary celebration. It seemed so obvious in hindsight: Andrew was hiding something from me.

“Where is it now?” I asked. “I can drop it off to get repaired on my way to work, if you like?”

A tense couple | Source: Pexels

A tense couple | Source: Pexels

Andrew hesitantly went into the bedroom to fetch his phone. It seemed to take ages, but finally, he handed me his phone.

It was indeed dead, the screen as black as night. I tried turning it on while I was on the subway, but it seemed Andrew had been telling the truth.

I should’ve been relieved, but my suspicions from earlier still nagged at me as I entered the repair shop. My old college buddy, Mike, owned the place. He greeted me warmly as I approached the counter.

A woman speaks to a shop assistant | Source: Pexels

A woman speaks to a shop assistant | Source: Pexels

“Hey, Mike. Can you take a look at this?” I set the phone down in front of him.

Mike took the phone and turned it over in his hands. “Sure thing, Denise, I’ll let you know what I find.”

The day dragged on at work, my mind a whirl of worries. By the time I got off, there was a message from Mike waiting for me.

“Hey, can you come by the shop? There’s something you need to see.”

Woman walking on the street while speaking on her phone | Source: Pexels

Woman walking on the street while speaking on her phone | Source: Pexels

My stomach churned as I walked into Mike’s shop. He looked up from the counter, a serious expression on his face.

“Let’s go to the back,” Mike said.

My heart pounded as I followed him to a small room. Mike closed the door behind us, then handed me Andrew’s phone, now powered on and functional. But there was more.

“I found this inside the phone,” he said, passing me a small folded note.

With trembling hands, I unfolded the paper.

A woman holding a notepad | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a notepad | Source: Pexels

Scrawled in Andrew’s handwriting, it read: “Please don’t fix this phone, say it’s beyond repair. Email me, I will send you money for it. Thanks!”

I felt like the ground had fallen away beneath me. “What the heck?” I muttered, “Why would he…”

I looked at Mike, but he raised his hands. “I didn’t email him, and I didn’t look at any personal stuff on the device either.” He let out a sigh and looked sadly at me. “But he obviously has something to hide.”

An earnest man | Source: Pexels

An earnest man | Source: Pexels

I know he meant to be kind, but his words felt like a slap in the face.

I thanked Mike, paid him, and left in a hurry. Once I was seated on the train home, I pulled out Andrew’s phone. He’d gone to such lengths to keep me from seeing his call history, but why?

My hands clenched into fists as the most obvious answer sprang to mind: Andrew was cheating on me.

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

An angry woman | Source: Pexels

So, I was all fired up as I started scrolling through phone numbers. My imagination was already filling up with various ways to get revenge on him, so what I found caught me completely off guard.

Most calls were to a number labeled “Dr. Whitman,” and several others marked “Hospital.”

“What the heck…” I muttered, clicking on the messages next. They were filled with appointment confirmations, test results, and reminders for follow-ups.

My mind raced, trying to piece together what this could mean.

A woman scrolling on a smart phone | Source: Pexels

A woman scrolling on a smart phone | Source: Pexels

Was Andrew sick? I tapped into his photo gallery, and my worst fears were confirmed. Scans, x-rays, and medical documents filled the screen. Each image painted a grim picture of a long, hidden battle with illness.

Andrew wasn’t cheating; he was sick, and he’d kept it from me all this time. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I quickly wiped them away.

The rest of the subway ride felt like an eternity. My mind replayed every moment from the past few months, every late night, every strange appointment.

A crying woman | Source: Pexels

A crying woman | Source: Pexels

Feelings of anger, sorrow, and guilt cycled through me. Why hadn’t he told me? How could he go through this alone?

I took a deep breath as I approached our home, feeling the weight of Andrew’s secret pressing down on my chest. Fresh tears stung at my eyes, but I clenched my jaw and kept moving.

When I finally walked through the front door, Andrew was sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine. He looked up, and his face fell when he saw the phone in my hand.

Man sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels

Man sitting on a sofa | Source: Pexels

“You got it fixed?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

I nodded. “Andrew, we need to talk.”

He looked away, the dread evident in his posture. I sat beside him, taking his hand in mine. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Andrew sighed, tears forming in his own eyes. “I didn’t want you to worry. I wanted to protect you, to keep our life normal for as long as possible.”

Couple seated on a sofa | Source: Pexels

Couple seated on a sofa | Source: Pexels

“Protect me?” I echoed, my voice rising. “How could you think this would protect me? Finding out like this feels like a betrayal.”

“I’m sorry, Denise,” he said, his voice cracking. “I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“We’re supposed to share our lives, Andrew,” I snapped. “The good and the bad. How could you think this isn’t my problem too?”

He hung his head, silent tears streaming down his face.

Sad and serious man | Source: Pexels

Sad and serious man | Source: Pexels

“I know I should have told you,” he whispered. “But I was so scared. I didn’t want you to see me as… broken.”

My heart ached as I watched Andrew hang his head and turn away. I closed the gap between us, placing my arms around him as I tried to make sense of it all.

“Andrew, I love you,” I said. “Nothing will ever change that. But I need you to trust me. We’re in this together, remember?”

Close up of a woman with tear-filled eyes | Source: Pexels

Close up of a woman with tear-filled eyes | Source: Pexels

He nodded, squeezing my hand tightly. “I’m so sorry, Denise. I promise, no more secrets.”

I held him tight as I felt his body shake with sobs. “We’ll get through this,” I whispered. “Together. But I need you to tell me what the doctors found.”

Andrew let out a shaky breath. He wiped his tears as he turned to face me and said two words that changed my life forever.

Couple seated on a sofa having a conversation | Source: Pexels

Couple seated on a sofa having a conversation | Source: Pexels

“Lung cancer.” Andrew’s lower lip quivered as he attempted a brave smile. “It’s under control for now, but it’s not good, Denise.”

For a long while, we just sat there, holding each other. The weight of his secret was still heavy, but sharing it made it a little easier to bear. We talked late into the night about his diagnosis, his fears, and what we needed to do next.

It was going to be a long road, but at least we’d be walking it together.

A couple hugging | Source: Pexels

A couple hugging | Source: Pexels

The next morning, we made an appointment with Dr. Whitman. As we sat in the waiting room, Andrew reached for my hand.

“Thank you for not giving up on me,” he said softly.

I looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability and strength there. “We’re a team, remember? I’m not going anywhere.”

Couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

Couple holding hands | Source: Pexels

He smiled, a real smile this time, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Despite all the drama and heartache, I knew then that no matter what happened next, we’d be okay.

A boy mows lawns to earn money and help the school janitor pay off his mortgage and retire

A rowdy teenager caused trouble for the school janitor and felt guilty. He learned about the man’s life and decided to do something remarkable for him, and only then did he realize something essential.

“Jeez!” Holden spat when he saw the mess he made on the floor. He and his friend were only going to play a prank on another student and paint his locker. However, he dropped the paint can in the middle of the basketball court, which would certainly be noticeable.

“Come on, Holden! Let’s go! Let’s go!” his friend, Andrew, yelled, and they both dropped everything and ran away.

They weren’t bad kids, but they were undoubtedly rowdy and rebellious, skipping classes all the time and trying to prank others. However, they weren’t bullies and didn’t have any malicious intent. Holden just hated school and wanted anarchy like many teenagers did at that age.

“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”

Fortunately, no one discovered what they had done, but Holden passed by the basketball court later and saw the old school janitor cleaning things up and heard the screams of the principal, Mr. Figgins.

“We have the prep rally tomorrow, and scouts from all over the country are coming! This needs to come out immediately!” the principal yelled at the poor old man, who hung his head and tried to clean the mess. However, the paint was oil-based, and it was an arduous task.

“Yes, Mr. Figgins. I’ll make sure it’s ready for tomorrow,” the janitor said and kept scrubbing. The principal threw his arms around some more, yelled some demands, and walked off in a huff.

Holden felt terrible, watching the old man on his knees trying to fix his mistake, so he did something completely uncharacteristic. He walked into the court, grabbed a rag, kneeled, and started cleaning with the janitor.

The old man looked at him for a second. “I guess you did this, right?” he commented and kept scrubbing.

“Sir, please. I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I didn’t know you would get in trouble for it,” Holden apologized sincerely and continued moving the rag up and down. “Please don’t tell the principal. My mom would kill me.”

The old man sighed and shrugged. “I won’t tell anyone, but you have to help me until this floor is back to normal,” he negotiated, and Holden nodded rapidly.

While they worked, they talked. The janitor’s name was Fred. At first, their conversation was about basketball and football, as the school has some of the best teams in the state. But then, Holden asked the old man why he was working at his age. Based on the wrinkles on his face and his frail arms, he had to be way over 60.

“Well, I need to pay a mortgage, kid,” Fred responded with pursed lips. “And I’m 76.”

“You haven’t paid your mortgage still. Wow. That means I can never dream of having a house of my own,” Holden commented.

“Well, things are hard now, kid. But actually, I never wanted to own a house. I rented most of my life. I bought that house for my daughter. She needed her own place, and I wanted to give her something,” Fred revealed, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “I put a down payment for her and helped her with the mortgage for years. But then, she died in a car accident, and it was all on me.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Holden muttered, and they stayed quiet for a while. “Why don’t you sell the house now?”

“Where would I live, kid? With rent these days, I would be homeless. And I have to keep working to eat,” the janitor continued. He wasn’t bitter or sad. He was just realistic.

“But you might not ever retire!” the teenager added.

“That’s true. I just hope I can pay the mortgage before I die,” he continued.

“How much is it?” Holden asked boldly.

“Well, I believe it’s a little under $30,000.”

“Wow. That’s terrible,” the teenager commented before widening his eyes. “Sorry. That was rude.”

But Fred laughed. “Let’s just work, kid.”

They finally removed all traces of the paint, but they both went home late that night… and Holden couldn’t sleep. He wanted to do something nice for the old man who hadn’t gotten him in trouble.

A few days later, he confessed what he had done to his mother and told her everything; then, he asked her how they could raise money for the old janitor. Maybe, if they paid his mortgage, Fred could retire.

His mother said that he could mow lawns around the neighborhood. It was mowing season, and tons of people were looking for help. So, Holden did so and surprisingly got a ton of clients. He grabbed his dad’s lawnmower and worked hard.

But after a few days, he realized the task was almost impossible. He would have to work for years, just like Fred, to raise the money, so he talked to his neighbors whose kids also went to the school. He took a picture of Fred from the school’s website and posted it online, telling his story, and finally decided to open a crowdfunding link for the janitor.

To his shock, the money started coming in, and $30,000 were raised in just a week.

After that, Holden and his mother talked to the school principal about having a special ceremony to honor Fred and surprise him. The teenager also had to come clean to the principal about the paint on the basketball court. Finally, Mr. Figgins agreed.

The whole school heard the story, and they all gathered at the basketball court and cheered when Fred came in. The old janitor had no idea what was going on as he didn’t have social media. But Holden presented him with the money, and many in the crowd cried as the two of them hugged. Fred officially retired that week.

Holden later learned that Fred had a granddaughter, Erin, who was only a few years younger than him, and the janitor wanted to pay off the house so she could have it when he was gone. She and Holden became great friends as he started visiting the old man after school and helping out.

He stopped hanging out with Andrew and started taking his classes seriously. The entire experience taught him that you had to work hard for everything.

His rebellious ways wholly disappeared, and he actually graduated at the top of his class a few years later. The entire school staff was shocked and pleased by his 180º turn, as it was something teachers rarely ever saw. And it was all due to Fred and that afternoon spent cleaning some paint off the floor.

What can we learn from this story?

You must apologize and do your best to atone for your errors. Holden got the old janitor in trouble, but he readily apologized and tried to make things better.

It only takes one experience or person to change someone’s perspective on life. After meeting Fred, Holden changed for good, as he learned that life was hard and only those who worked hard and honestly could live happily.

Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.

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