That’s when my hand started to tremble slightly. What was wrong? What was he hiding? I just lay there quietly, trying not to move.

After a while, he stood up and left the room. I heard him speak in the living room—weakly, as if he were talking to himself.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. But I should have said it right away.”

I felt my chest tighten. In our ten years of marriage, I had never thought that he could be hiding something so deeply.

The next day, I acted as if I hadn’t heard anything. I prepared breakfast, even joked with him, but the worry in his eyes was obvious. It was as if he wanted to talk but was holding back.

All week, he had been quiet. Always deep in thought, always as if he was carrying a heavy burden. That’s when I started to get really nervous. I wondered if there was a woman… or if he had committed a tragedy… or if he was sick and didn’t want to tell anyone.

One night, after the kids had eaten dinner and gone to bed, I asked him.