I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off when my husband Eric started acting strange. He would leave the house every night, return late, and look drained. I wondered if he was seeing someone else, but my mind was racing with questions. One night, I decided to follow him.
He led me to the local park, where he sat in his car, staring at his phone, and then lay down with a pillow and blanket. I was confused – why would he choose to sleep in his car? For the next few nights, the same thing happened. I needed answers, so I confronted him.
Eric revealed that he had been recording bedtime stories for our kids. But there was more – he had been diagnosed with cancer, and it was bad. He didn’t want to burden me, but he wanted to leave our kids something to remember him by. I was devastated, but I promised to support him.
The following months were a blur of doctor’s visits and treatments. Eric made memories with our kids, and I held his hand through it all. Eventually, the cancer took its toll, and Eric passed away. Our house felt empty without him.
Days later, I listened to the recordings he had made. One file was titled “Our Story.” His voice filled the car, telling the tale of a princess and an ordinary man who lived happily ever after. He faltered at the end, but his love and resilience shone through. I cried, but I felt comforted knowing his love would always be with me.
