When Nella observes her husband Eric behaving oddly, she begins to follow him to uncover his secret.
After several nights of this unsettling routine, she finally resolves to confront him.
However, the truth reveals itself to be far more profound and troubling than Nella anticipated, reshaping her life indefinitely.
It all began when Eric expressed his need for some space to think things over.
We had been married for twelve years, and despite our ups and downs, this was the first time he had ever asked for such a thing.
“It’s not about us, Nella,” he assured me. “I just need some time to sort things out.”
Naturally, my thoughts spiraled to the worst scenarios.
Eric had always been the anchor in our relationship—steady, dependable, and calm. So, when he packed a bag and mentioned casually that he would be sleeping in his car for the next few nights, my anxiety skyrocketed.
Was he unfaithful?
Was this his way of leaving me?
Was he subtly detaching from our lives?
“Are you really sure about this?” I asked him. “I can give you space at home.
You could use the guest room or we could make the pool house more comfortable.”
“Nella,” he replied with a slow smile, “it’s not about us. But this is really important to me.”
For ten nights, Eric would depart shortly after dinner and return just before dawn.
He looked terrible, honestly.
His hair was unkempt, dark circles formed under his eyes, and he moved as if his body resisted any kind of activity.
Each time I inquired, he brushed me off with a strained smile, insisting he merely needed a break.
“I promise, it’s nothing like that.
Trust me, okay?” he would plead whenever I pressed him about another woman.
But how could I trust him? My imagination ran rampant, picturing him in a hotel with someone else, leading a double life.
By the fifth night, my patience had worn thin. I decided to follow him.
I felt foolish, like I was in a cliché soap opera.
But I had to uncover the truth.
I waited until he drove off, then followed closely behind.
He didn’t go far—just to a nearby park, where he parked under a tree and turned off his headlights.
I parked down the street, watching from the shadows, anxiety coursing through me. Was this where he met his lover?
However, as I sat there, it became clear that no one was coming.
He sat alone, staring at his phone, then stretched out with a pillow and a blanket.
For the subsequent nights, the pattern repeated.
Eric would head to the park, curl up in his car, and remain there for hours before returning home. My thoughts spiraled.
Why would he choose to sleep in his car if there wasn’t something to hide?
Why endure such discomfort if it wasn’t for another person?
On the tenth night, I could no longer bear it.
I needed answers. After putting the kids to bed, I locked the door and drove to the park. This time, I wouldn’t sit idly by.
I parked beside his car and tapped on the window.
Eric looked startled; he quickly unlocked the door, motioning for me to enter.
The air was thick with unexpressed feelings, and as I slid into the passenger seat, my emotions surged.
“What is going on, Eric?” I demanded.
“Why are you doing this? Tell me honestly, are you seeing someone?
Is that why you’re out here? Are you afraid the kids would find out?”
I spoke hurriedly, as though trying to spill all my fears at once.
Sighing heavily, Eric rubbed his face with his hands.
The weariness I saw in him ran deeper than mere fatigue—it felt like he bore an unbearable burden.
“No,” he said softly.
“It’s not like that. I keep telling you there’s no one else.”
“Then what is it?” I pressed. “You’re frightening me, Eric.
Why do you come out here every night?”
He glanced my way and reached into the back seat, pulling out a small stack of books and a recording device.
“I didn’t want you to know,” he confessed.
“I didn’t want to worry you. But I’ve been recording bedtime stories for the kids.”
I blinked in disbelief.
“Bedtime stories?
Why would that worry me?”
He hesitated, his hands betraying slight tremors. “I went to the doctor a few weeks ago.
They found something—a tumor.
The biopsy results showed it’s cancer, Nella. It’s serious. I’m on borrowed time.”
It felt like the earth had vanished beneath me, rendering me breathless.
“What?” I gasped.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want to burden you with it,” he explained.
“I wanted you to remain normal around me and the kids. But I also wanted to create something for them to remember me by.”
I grasped his hand tightly, as the full weight of his secret crashed over me.
This wasn’t about infidelity.
It was about my husband preparing for a future I dreaded to consider.
“I refuse to let you go through this alone,” I asserted. “We will face this together, Eric, no matter what.”
He nodded, tears slipping down his cheeks as mine flowed freely.
The months that followed became a haze of doctor visits, treatments, and nights spent nestled close together, striving to remain hopeful.
During this time, Eric dedicated himself to the kids, playing with them and taking them for walks when he was able.
He made them pancakes for dinner and pizza for breakfast.
He let them choose their Halloween costumes months in advance.
He fought harder than I ever could imagine, yet despite everything, the disease was relentless.
He had known all along that the odds were not in his favor.
He had known it when he started recording those stories in his car, preparing for the worst while striving to give us the best of himself.
“I’ll fight for as long as I can,” he told me one night in bed. “But I’m getting… tired.”
“I know, my love,” I said, clutching his hands beneath the covers. “Whatever you do, listen to your body.
Rest when it tells you to.”
Eric passed away quietly one winter morning.
The house felt empty and still without him. Our young children were unaware of the enormity of the loss.
Yet they sat through the funeral, looking lost and dazed.
Just like me.
Days after the funeral, while surrounded by family members and visitors, I felt ready to listen to his recordings.
I went to his car and retrieved the recorder from the bag he had left it in.
Scrolling through the files, I saw the familiar titles of our children’s favorite stories.
But one title stood out to me:
Our Story.
Taking a deep breath, I pressed play. His voice was warm and steady, filling the space around me immediately.
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