When I knocked on the bathroom door and heard my husband’s tense voice, I knew something was wrong. But nothing could have prepared me for the fact that he had been hiding behind that locked door for months.
I’d always considered myself lucky. Liam and I had been married for twenty-five years, and for the most part, life had been…comfortable. We’d had our ups and downs like any couple, but we were solid.
At least that’s what I used to think. Lately, things have been different. Not in the sense that things have been different: no big fights or dramatic changes, but that small changes have been happening that make you question your own instincts.
The strangest of them all? Liam’s sudden obsession with the bathroom.
Liam had never been the type to spend much time in there. I’d always teased him about how quickly he could get in and out, joking that he was some sort of efficiency expert. But about six months ago, he started taking his time. Really taking his time.
It wasn’t just a few extra minutes, he would disappear for hours. At first I brushed it off. ‘Maybe he’s just getting old,’ I told myself. Everyone deserves a little alone time. I didn’t want to be one of those wives who grumbled over every little thing.
But then the noises started.
One night, as I was folding laundry on the bed, I heard a thud. I paused, listening carefully. It was there again: this time a low grunt, followed by heavy breathing.
I stood up and hesitated in the corridor before knocking softly. ‘Liam?’ I called through the door, trying to keep my tone casual. ‘Everything okay in there?’
There was a pause. ‘Yeah, just… taking my time,’ he replied, his voice slightly strained.
I frowned, but didn’t continue. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well? But the days were turning into weeks, and his trips to the loo were getting longer and longer. He spent more and more time behind the locked door, and every day I grew more anxious.
It wasn’t just the time, but the secrecy that bothered me. He started locking the door every time, something he had never done before. When I casually asked him about it one morning over a cup of coffee, he nonchalantly replied, ‘Can’t a bloke have privacy?’.
I tried to ignore it, but curiosity was gnawing at me, especially because of the strange sounds. ‘Privacy for what exactly?’ I muttered to myself one night. Then I began to worry that something more was going on.
One night, after another long trip to the bathroom, I couldn’t help myself anymore. ‘Liam, why do you always sit there for so long?’ I asked, my voice sounding sharper than I wanted it to.
He looked at me irritably. ‘Why do you always ask that? I just… I can’t do it any faster, okay?’
‘Do what faster?’ I asked, perplexed.
‘Just leave it alone, Naomi,’ he snapped, storming into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.
I tried to forget about it, but every night, lying in bed and listening to those strange sounds coming from the bathroom, I felt my imagination run wild. Maybe he was hiding something? Maybe he’s in trouble?
Just the thought of him keeping secrets from me after all these years made my stomach churn. I considered every possibility, even the worst: maybe he was seeing someone else.
One afternoon, everything changed. Liam had locked himself in the bathroom again and I was in the kitchen when his phone rang on the counter.
I glanced at it absent-mindedly, expecting to see some work-related message or news. But no: it was his mum, Meredith, calling.
‘Liam, it’s your mum calling!’ I exclaimed, tapping the countertop impatiently.
A grunt came from the bathroom. ‘Can you get that? I’m busy!’ His voice was muffled, strained.
I hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone. ‘Hi, Meredith,’ I said, trying not to drag out the conversation. After a quick exchange about an upcoming doctor’s appointment, we hung up.
But just as I was about to close the phone, something caught my attention – a video appeared on the screen. Judging by the thumbnail, it had been recorded just an hour ago.
My heart raced. Before I could stop myself, I pressed the play button. And when the video started, I felt my breath catch.
Liam was in the bathroom, dressed in workout clothes, of all things…exercising? He was doing push-ups, sweat dripping down his face, he groaned with each repetition.
Then he moved on to squats, breathing heavily and straining in a way I had never seen before.
My first reaction was relief. Was that what was going on in there? My imagination had taken me to the darkest of places, and here he was…doing some awkward yoga poses. I even giggled, a combination of amusement and disbelief flashing through my mind.
I walked down the corridor, heart still pounding, and knocked on the bathroom door, harder this time. ‘Liam! Open the door. We need to talk.’
There was silence on the other side, and I could almost feel his hesitation through the thick wood. ‘I’m busy right now,’ he finally muttered, his voice choked.
I didn’t have time for this. ‘Liam. Open the. The door. The door.’
I heard him fidget, and after a while the lock clicked. The door creaked open slowly, and my husband stood before me, flushed, sweaty, and holding a bright green elastic band in one hand. He stared at me, his eyes widening like a deer caught in headlights.
‘You saw the video, right?’ – He asked in a voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped and he stared at the floor.
I crossed my arms, trying to keep my voice calm. ‘Yeah, I saw that. What the hell is going on?’
Liam took a deep breath, running a hand through his damp hair. ‘I…I’ve gained weight,’ he admitted, his voice heavy with embarrassment. ‘Nine kilos in the last few months, and I was so embarrassed. I thought you’d… you know, notice.’
‘What have you noticed? That you’ve put on a bit of weight? Liam, everyone puts on weight from time to time. What does that have to do with you locking yourself in the bathroom for hours on end?’ I asked, genuinely embarrassed but feeling my frustration fade away little by little.
He groaned, rubbing his forehead like a kid who’d been caught eating a biscuit before dinner. ‘I didn’t want you to see me like this,’ he muttered. ‘So I started working out…secretly. I hired this online trainer and started doing these workouts in the bathroom so you wouldn’t…notice how out of shape I was.’
I blinked, mulling over his words. ‘Wait. All this time you’ve been here…working out? Not hiding things from me? Not cheating or… God knows what else I thought?’ I felt a mixture of despair and relief overwhelm me.
He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. ‘I didn’t want you to hear me struggling. It’s embarrassing, you know? I’d be grunting and breathing hard, and I figured if you knew, you’d worry…or worse, start thinking less of me.’
I stared at him, then burst into laughter. I couldn’t help it. The absurdity of it all: the hours spent worrying, the secret glances, the closed doors, all because he was embarrassed to admit he was playing sports.
‘Liam, you’re an absolute idiot!’ I laughed, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. ‘You could have just told me. You know I would have supported you no matter what!’
Liam looked up at me, and a sheepish smile broke through his embarrassment. ‘I didn’t mean to worry you. I know what you’ve been dealing with lately: work, my mum’s health, everything else. I didn’t want to make it worse.’
I shook my head, and the last drop of tension disappeared as I took a step toward him. ‘Worry me? Liam, you were really worrying me. You were acting so weird. My imagination went wild! I thought you were hiding something serious from me…’
He wrinkled his nose, clearly feeling guilty. ‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered. ‘I just… I wasn’t feeling well. And I didn’t mean to burden you with it.’
I softened and reached out to touch his arm. ‘Liam, we’ve been married for twenty-five years. You don’t have to hide anything from me, especially this.’ I paused, trying to read his face.
‘You’re still the same man I married, whether you’ve put on a few pounds or not. Besides, it’s not like I’ve stayed the same size either,’ I added with a smirk, patting myself on my stomach to emphasise it.
Liam finally smiled for real. ‘I guess I was a little ridiculous, huh?’
‘A little,’ I teased, raising an eyebrow. ‘Next time, instead of locking ourselves in the house, how about we go for a run together? Or, I don’t know, maybe initiate me into your secret workouts?’
He chuckled, the tension subsiding. ‘You and me? Do yoga together?’ – He joked, his eyes sparkling for the first time in weeks.
‘Why not? I could use a little stretching,’ I said with a smirk and then sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks. ‘But seriously, Liam, no more secrets. Please. You can tell me anything, even if it’s about something like this.’
Liam nodded, looking down at his feet, and then looked up at me again. ‘I will tell you. I promise.’
We froze for a moment, the air between us lighter, as if a weight had been lifted off of us. I hadn’t realised how much the situation had been weighing on me until it was gone.
I finally smiled, shaking my head again. ‘All this time all you’ve been doing is doing push-ups here?’
Liam laughed, tossing aside a sliver of resistance. ‘Yeah, and pretty badly.’
We both laughed, and the sound filled the small bathroom. It was funny, yes, but also a reminder. Sometimes the things we’re most afraid to admit – the things we think will push people away – are the very things that bring us closer.
I squeezed his hand and said quietly: ‘Next time, just let me in, okay?’
‘Okay,’ he whispered, enclosing me in a hug.
And in that moment, everything seemed to fall into place.
Ready to dive into another heartwarming story? You’ll love this one: When Michael returned home early from a business trip, he expected a warm family reunion, not an empty house and eerie silence. His wife was missing, but she was found locked in the basement, and she told a shocking story that points to a betrayal he in no way expected.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but has been fictionalised for creative purposes. Names, characters and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
