Curiosity got the best of me as I quietly stepped into the house, my heart racing. I heard low voices coming from the living room and peeked in to see my husband slouched on the couch, his face buried in his hands as if he were in the middle of a dramatic scene.
Gently, I asked, “What’s wrong?” My husband and his parents looked up at me, startled. His red, tear-streaked eyes met mine.
“It’s nothing, sweetheart,” he mumbled, though it was clear he was struggling. I couldn’t let it go, sensing the weight in the room. “Please, tell me,” I urged.
After a long silence, he finally opened up, saying, “I can’t keep pretending everything is okay… I feel overwhelmed, like I’m drowning in responsibilities.”
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