His face was pale, his breaths shallow. My wife was by his side, gently adjusting his blanket while my brother prepared medication. T
ears stung my eyes when the truth hit me—my father’s health had been declining rapidly, and they hadn’t told me.
My wife hadn’t been sneaking out for herself; she’d been sacrificing her sleep, caring for my dad so I wouldn’t worry, while my brother worked late shifts.
I stumbled back, overwhelmed with guilt for ever doubting her.
The next morning, I hugged her tightly and told her I knew.
She smiled softly and said, “I just didn’t want you to carry this burden alone.”
That night, I realized love isn’t always loud or obvious. Sometimes, it’s found in the quiet sacrifices people make in the dark, when no one is watching.
