I came home early from my business trip to surprise Ben. Instead, I found him in the garden, sweating and burying a massive black egg. When I asked what it was, he panicked and told me to go inside. I couldn’t let it go—so I dug it up myself.

The egg was hollow, plastic, and clearly fake. Our neighbor spotted me and asked questions, but I brushed him off. Later, a news report revealed a counterfeit antique scam involving black eggs. My heart dropped as the truth clicked into place.

That night, I confronted Ben. He admitted he spent $15,000 from our savings on it—believing it was a rare artifact. “I wanted to flip it and take you to Europe,” he said, ashamed. “I just wanted to fix things… for us.”

I told him I didn’t need rare treasures—just honesty. We’d file the police report together and try to recover the loss. I placed the egg by our tomato plants, as a reminder. Not of failure—but of what we nearly buried: our trust.