When I noticed my wife, Sarah, making strange tally marks on her hand, I brushed it off. But the marks multiplied, and her vague answers only deepened my unease. One day, I saw her notebook—rows of tallies totaling 68—and found an identical one at her mother’s house.

When I finally confronted Sarah, she revealed the truth: “I’m not counting my mistakes, Jack. I’m counting yours. Every time you break your vows. When you hit 1,000, I’m leaving.”

Shocked, I spoke to her mother, who admitted she’d once done the same—until she switched to counting good days. The next evening, Sarah apologized. We threw out the tally system and started a new notebook together—this time filling it with happy moments, not broken promises.