They say love makes you blind, and I was living proof of that. When my husband, Kyle, quit his job, saying he was sick, I believed him without a second thought. I worked harder, handed over every penny I earned, and put my own well-being aside for him. But the truth I discovered shattered everything.
When you love someone, you never expect them to lie to you, especially about something as serious as their health. Looking back, I should’ve seen the warning signs. I should’ve questioned the inconsistencies. But I didn’t.
Not until a stranger rolled down her car window and told me something I never saw coming.
Being a wife and mother had always been my greatest joy. My life was a blur of work, chores, and family time, but I wouldn’t have traded it for anything.
I worked as a project manager at a software company, a job I truly enjoyed. It paid well enough to support our small family—our two boys, Liam and Jake, and my husband of 15 years, Kyle.
Liam, 12, was the inquisitive one, always tinkering with gadgets and asking questions. Jake, 10, was the little athlete, always racing around or kicking a soccer ball. They were my biggest motivation, the reason I pushed so hard.
And then there was Kyle. My rock.
He’d always been the steady one, the calm in the chaos. He worked as an operations manager at a logistics company—a tough job, but it provided stability. Sometimes, I’d look across the dinner table at him, watching him laugh with the boys, and think, I’m so lucky.
Life was good.
But then, one afternoon, Kyle came home early, holding a folder in his hands. His face was pale, and his movements stiff, like he was preparing for bad news.
“You’re home early,” I remarked, glancing up from my laptop. When our eyes met, I knew something was wrong.
He sat down, staring at the folder. “Laura,” he said, voice shaky. “I have muscular dystrophy.”
I froze. “What?”
“I’ve been feeling off for months,” he went on. “I went to the doctor, ran tests… this is why I’ve been so exhausted.”
The air in the room thickened. “What does this mean?”
“I can’t work anymore,” he said, voice tinged with helplessness. “I need treatment. It’s expensive, but it’s my only chance.”
I couldn’t breathe. I reached for the folder, flipping through test results, doctor’s notes—everything looked official, everything seemed so serious.
Kyle swallowed hard. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I hate that you have to deal with this. I think… I think we should cancel the trip with the boys.”
I grabbed his hands. “Stop. The boys will understand. We’ll figure this out together. You’re going to get the treatment you need.”
Tears welled in his eyes. “I hate that you have to carry this burden.”
“I’m your wife,” I said, my voice firm. “We’ll get through this.”
But as I stared at the documents, fear crept into my chest. How were we going to afford this?
That night, as we lay in bed, I whispered, “I’ll get another job.”
Kyle turned to me. “Laura, I don’t want you exhausting yourself for me.”
“I can handle it,” I said, determined. “I’ll pick up a part-time job. We’ll cut back on expenses. You’ll quit your job and focus on your health.”
His lips trembled. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.”
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