I woke up in the middle of the night and immediately sensed something was wrong. My husband wasn’t beside me in bed. The clock on the nightstand read 3:12 a.m. I got up quietly and walked to the kitchen, thinking he might be getting a drink or grabbing a snack, but the room was empty. A moment later, I heard the front door open, and he stepped inside as if nothing were unusual.
I asked him where he had been, and he calmly said he was taking out the trash. The explanation stunned me. Who takes out the trash at three in the morning? His answer didn’t feel right, and the way he avoided my eyes made it worse. Still, I checked under the sink, and sure enough, the trash was gone. There was nothing I could confront him with.
The following night, I pretended to be asleep, hoping to catch him leaving again. But somewhere during the wait, I drifted off. When morning came, the trash had disappeared once more, confirming he had gone out again without my noticing.
