Liam and I had been married for 25 years, a solid couple. But recently, something felt off—his sudden obsession with the bathroom. He’d lock himself in for hours, strange noises coming from behind the door. I asked him about it, but he brushed it off, claiming he just needed privacy.
Curiosity gnawed at me, especially after overhearing his strained grunts. One day, I answered his phone and saw a video of him doing intense workouts in the bathroom. Confused but relieved, I confronted him. Liam admitted he’d gained weight and was secretly working out to avoid embarrassment.
He’d been too ashamed to tell me, worried I’d notice the changes in his body. I laughed, feeling both relieved and exasperated. “You should’ve told me,” I said, reminding him that after 25 years, there’s no need for secrets.
Liam, sheepish, promised no more hiding. We both laughed at the absurdity of the situation. As I hugged him, the tension melted away. Sometimes, the things we’re most afraid to share only bring us closer.
