My husband and I had the kind of quiet, comfortable marriage people envy until he suddenly moved into the guest room and locked the door behind him. I thought it was because of my snoring… until I discovered what he was really hiding.
I’m 37, married for eight years, and until about a month ago, I thought my spouse and I were that couple. Ethan and I weren’t flashy or overly romantic, but we were close. Or so I thought…
The two of us were the couple that others described as solid, comfortable, and maybe even a little boring, but in a good way. We were the type of couple who finished each other’s sentences and knew how the other took their coffee. We lived in a cozy two-bedroom house with an herb garden that I never remembered to water.
We also had two cats who only acknowledged our existence when they were hungry. Weekends equaled pancakes, DIY failures, and half-watched Netflix we barely remembered. We had been through the kind of things that either bind people together or tear them apart—health scares, two miscarriages, infertility, job losses—and we’d made it through.
My husband, Ethan, and I always slept in the same bed, like any couple. So when he started sleeping in the guest room, I didn’t question it at first. He came to bed one night with a sheepish look and said, “Sweetheart, I love you, but lately you’ve been snoring like a leaf blower on overdrive.
I haven’t had a solid night’s sleep in weeks.”
I laughed. I really did. I teased him about being dramatic, and he kissed my forehead before carrying his pillow into the guest room as if it were a temporary staycation.
He said he needed to get a proper night’s sleep. I didn’t think much of it. I even joked the next morning that he could bring me room service.
He grinned but didn’t laugh. A week went by, then two. The pillow stayed in the guest room.
So did his laptop and his phone. And then he started locking the door at night. That’s when things got weird.
I asked him why he locked it, and he just shrugged. “I don’t want the cats jumping in and knocking stuff over while I’m working,” he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. He wasn’t mean.
He still hugged me goodbye every morning, still asked how my day was. But it felt… performative, as if he were checking boxes.
He even started showering in the hallway bathroom instead of ours! When I asked about it, he kissed my forehead and said, “Don’t worry so much, babe. Just trying to get ahead at work.”
But there was something in his voice—something off.
The story doesn’t end here –
it continues on the next page.
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