The Prayer I Wasn’t Supposed to Hear—And the Secret That Almost Destroyed Us
It was almost midnight when I finally collapsed into bed, my entire body feeling like it had been filled with cement and left to harden.
Another endless day at work. Another mountain of dishes waiting in the sink. Another round of homework supervision, laundry folding, lunch-packing for tomorrow. Another night of pretending I wasn’t running on fumes and sheer willpower.
I slid under the blanket and turned onto my side, facing away from the lamp on Adrian’s nightstand. Beside me, my husband of ten years was still awake, the blue glow from his phone casting shadows across his face in the darkness.
I closed my eyes and let my breathing slow, pretending to drift off the way I sometimes did when I was desperate for him to notice me, to pull me close like he used to in our early years, to remember that I was still here, still his.
He didn’t.
The room settled into quiet. I could hear the soft hum of the air conditioner fighting against the September heat. The occasional car passing on our street. The faint, rhythmic tapping of his thumb scrolling across the screen.
Then he stopped scrolling.
I heard him take a deep, shaky breath—not the sigh of a man tired from a long day at work, but the sound of someone who’s been carrying something far too heavy for far too long and is finally about to collapse under the weight.
I thought he was about to get up and grab some water from the kitchen, or maybe check on the kids one more time before sleep.
Instead, I heard something that made my blood turn to ice.
His voice. Barely above a whisper. Cracked and desperate.
“Lord… I don’t know how to handle this anymore. I don’t want to hurt Mia… but I’m so scared of what happens next.”
My name.
Mia.
It was like someone had poured ice water directly into my chest, flooding my veins with cold panic.
I stayed absolutely still, forcing my body not to react. My eyelashes didn’t even flutter. He thought I was asleep, so he kept going, his whispered prayer continuing in the darkness.
“If I tell her the truth… I might lose her. But if I don’t say anything… I know I’m living a lie. I know it’s wrong. God, please… I don’t know what to do.”
My fingers curled into fists under the blanket to stop them from trembling visibly. My heart pounded so loudly in my ears I was certain he’d hear it, that the thundering rhythm would give me away.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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