Episode 1

That night, I was in the kitchen preparing dinner, determined this time not to fall asleep before my husband came home.
I didn’t know it yet, but what happened that night would open a door to something I never imagined.

We had only been married for a month, yet I couldn’t honestly say I knew the man beside me. We first met online, had a modest wedding with only a few guests, and before I could fully enjoy the beginning of married life, he excused himself for an “urgent business trip.” That was the last time I saw him directly.

From then on, our marriage existed like shadows crossing in the night. He always returned long after I was asleep and left before the sun rose. During the day, he would call often—his voice cheerful, tender.

“Hello, my sunshine,” he’d say.
And I’d answer softly, “Yes, darling.”

He never failed to make me laugh. Financially, we wanted for nothing. But what I truly longed for—his presence, his warmth—was missing.

Every evening I set the table for two. By morning, the plate was always cleared. Sometimes there were flowers left behind, or a short note with the words “I love you.” Those gestures touched me, but deep inside, I wished for something more than petals and paper.

One evening, I resolved to wait for him. I stayed on the couch, fighting against my drowsiness. But eventually, sleep overtook me. I woke to faint sounds in the dark—footsteps, whispers—yet my body was too heavy to move.

In the morning, I noticed something strange: my hair seemed slightly tousled, as though someone had touched it. Even my sleeping posture had changed.

Later, when he called, his voice was as warm and teasing as always, making it hard to question him. Still, I promised myself: the next night, I would not close my eyes.

So I waited. Watching the clock tick. At midnight sharp, I heard it again: soft movements at the door, hushed voices I couldn’t catch. My heartbeat quickened. The door creaked open… and shut.

“Who’s there?” I whispered. “Honey… is that you?”

Silence.

Holding my breath, I crept toward the window. With trembling hands, I pulled the curtain aside—

And there he was.

My husband.

But something was terrifyingly off. His eyes glimmered faintly in the darkness, cold and piercing—nothing like the man I married. He stood there, unmoving, watching me without speaking.

I froze. My chest tightened. I turned to run—

And then, an icy hand seized me.

Episode 2

The moment his cold hand brushed against me, I yanked myself free with all the strength I had and bolted into the bedroom. My heart pounded as I slammed the door shut, twisting the key with trembling hands.

“Please… stop!” his voice echoed, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t.

I pressed my back against the door, gasping for air, my whole body shaking as though I had just seen hell itself. “So this is the man I married?” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible. My mind replayed the look in his eyes, the piercing glare that seemed less human, more shadow. I had never seen anything like it.

Then silence.

Moments later, I heard it, footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Each one deliberate, dragging against the tiled floor, until they stopped right outside my door.

“My sunshine… open the door,” he called softly.

That voice. By day it was warm, playful, tender, the very voice that had made me laugh during our endless phone calls. But in the dark of night, in that moment, it was terrifying. His words slithered into my ears like whispers from a stranger.

I froze, holding my breath. I didn’t respond. Not a word.

My hands shook as I reached for my phone on the bedside table. Maybe if I called my elder brother, I could explain, beg him to come. But when I pressed the power button, my heart sank. The screen remained black. The battery had died.

“No… not tonight,” I whispered, panic swelling inside me.

My knees weakened, my palms turned clammy. I stood in silence, every muscle tense, praying in my heart, too afraid to move. For a moment I thought I heard faint whispers from the door, strange and unclear, like voices overlapping. Then, nothing. Silence swallowed everything.

That night, I didn’t sleep. I sat in the corner of the bedroom, hugging my knees, whispering prayers under my breath. My eyes never left the door, expecting at any moment for it to burst open.

“This is it,” I told myself. “This marriage is over. I can’t live like this. I can’t live with a man who hides in the night, who feels like a stranger in his own home. And when I finally saw him, what I saw wasn’t even him.”

The hours dragged on, heavy and endless. But eventually, light crept through the curtains. Dawn. My heart dared to hope.

I listened carefully. Nothing. The house was still. He was gone, just like always.

I rose slowly, unlocking the door with trembling fingers. My bare feet touched the cold floor as I stepped into the hallway… and then I froze.

There, on the tiles, were stains. Red stains.

My breath caught. My chest tightened as I followed the trail, each step echoing in my ears. The stains continued into the sitting room, smeared, leading straight to the front gate.

Fear and confusion twisted inside me. I rushed outside, my wrapper clutched tightly around me.

At the gate, I saw them, a crowd. Neighbors whispering, their faces filled with pity, curiosity, and fear.

One of them turned to me, his voice hushed. “Your husband… he was rushed to the hospital last night.”

I froze. My heart skipped a beat. Hospital?

My mind spun. None of it made sense. What had happened after I locked myself in?

I didn’t wait for another word. My legs moved on their own. I had to see. I had to know the truth with my own eyes.

But what I discovered at the hospital… changed everything.

I couldn’t forgive myself for running away that night. Maybe if I had stayed, things would have been different. Now he was in the hospital, and guilt weighed heavily on me.

I rushed into the ward and froze. There he was, my husband, lying weak on the bed, bruises scattered across his body as a result of hard labor. For the first time since our wedding, I was truly looking at him. My heart ached. Fear had blinded me, but now pity filled my soul.

I sat by his side and whispered, “What happened to you? I’m worried. You come home late and leave early, what really is going on? Look at you now. Please, tell me the truth.”

His eyes filled with tears. Slowly, he spoke, his voice trembling.

“I’m sorry… I never wanted you to see me like this. I am an orphan with heavy debts. I borrowed money to survive, even to marry you, even to make sure we lacked nothing at home. Every day, I work sixteen hours serving the man I owe. I call you during the day because your voice is the only thing that keeps me alive. At night, I come home dirty, wounded sometimes, and I didn’t want you to see me that way. Yesterday, I was already weak from an accident, but when I saw you in the sitting room, I panicked. I wanted to explain, but you ran. Moments later, I fainted, and woke up here in the hospital.”

His words pierced me like arrows. Tears streamed down my face. I had judged him wrongly. He wasn’t a monster, he was a broken man carrying a burden alone.

We cried together, holding each other’s hands. Just then, his phone rang. He looked at the screen, fear washing over his face.

“It’s him… my master,” he whispered. His hands shook as he tried to pick the call. “If I don’t go now, I’ll be finished.”

I grabbed the phone. “No, honey,” I said firmly. “You are not well. Let me handle this.”

I answered the call. “Good morning, sir.”

The man’s voice was cold. “Morning.”

“My husband is in the hospital,” I said. “He can’t come this week. Please, give him time to recover.”

Silence. I could hear my husband’s heartbeat racing. Nobody spoke to that man like this. But I refused to back down. Finally, the voice on the other end asked, “Are you his wife?”

“Yes. He’s my husband, my heartbeat, my everything,” I replied without hesitation.

He asked for the address, then ended the call.

Moments later, the man arrived at the hospital. My husband trembled as he approached, but to our surprise, the man’s eyes softened when he saw me sitting beside him, refusing to leave his side.

“From today,” the man said slowly, “your debts are cleared. Your medical bills are covered. And here…” He dropped a cheque on the table. “This is money to start a business. Take care of your wife. Value her. Not many women stand for their man in hard times.”

Tears flowed freely down my husband’s cheeks. He couldn’t believe it. Neither could I. That moment became the turning point of our lives.

We never saw the man again, but his act of mercy changed everything. From then on, my husband and I built a new life together, stronger and more united than ever.

And I learned something powerful that day: sometimes, one act of courage from a wife can bring unexpected blessings to a husband. Truly, he that finds a wife finds a good thing, and obtains favor from the Lord.

The End