I Couldn’t Get Why My Husband Spends So Much Time in the Bathroom Until I Saw a Video in His Phone

When I knocked on the bathroom door and heard my husband’s strained voice, I knew something wasn’t right. But nothing could have prepared me for the real reason he’d been hiding behind that locked door for months.

I’ve always considered myself lucky. Liam and I have been married for 25 years, and for the most part, life has been… comfortable. We had our ups and downs, like any couple, but we were solid.

A loving couple having a conversation | Source: Midjourney

A loving couple having a conversation | Source: Midjourney

At least, that’s what I used to think. Lately, things have felt different. Not the obvious kind of different: no big fights or dramatic shifts, but small changes, the kind that make you second-guess your own instincts.

The strangest of all? Liam’s sudden obsession with the bathroom.

Liam’s never been the type to spend much time in there. If anything, I’ve always teased him for how quickly he could be in and out, joking that he was some kind of efficiency expert. But about six months ago, he started taking his time. Really taking his time.

A man looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror | Source: Midjourney

A man looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror | Source: Midjourney

It wasn’t just a few extra minutes; he’d disappear for hours. At first, I shrugged it off. “Maybe he’s just getting older,” I told myself. Everyone deserves a bit of alone time. I didn’t want to be one of those wives, nagging over every little thing.

But then the noises started.

One night, as I was folding laundry on the bed, I heard a dull thud. I paused, listening carefully. There it was again: this time, a low grunt, followed by what sounded like heavy breathing.

A stunned woman standing in her room | Source: Midjourney

A stunned woman standing in her room | Source: Midjourney

I stood up, hesitating in the hallway before knocking softly. “Liam?” I called through the door, trying to keep my tone casual. “Everything alright in there?”

There was a pause. “Yeah, just… taking my time,” he replied, his voice slightly strained.

I frowned but didn’t push further. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well? But days turned into weeks, and his bathroom sessions grew longer. He’d spend more time behind that locked door, and with each passing day, I found myself growing more and more uneasy.

A woman looks curious and concerned while sitting in her room | Source: Midjourney

A woman looks curious and concerned while sitting in her room | Source: Midjourney

It wasn’t just the time that bothered me; it was the secrecy. He had started locking the door every time, something he never used to do. When I casually asked him about it one morning over coffee, he shrugged it off with a nonchalant, “Can’t a guy have some privacy?”

I tried not to let it get to me, but curiosity gnawed at me, especially with the strange sounds. “Privacy for what exactly?” I muttered under my breath one night. That’s when I started to worry something more was going on.

A man standing in the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

A man standing in the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

One evening, after yet another long, locked bathroom session, I couldn’t help myself anymore. “Liam, why are you always in there for so long?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

He looked at me, irritated. “Why do you always have to ask about it? I just… I can’t do it faster, okay?”

“Do what faster?” I asked, baffled.

“Just leave it alone, Naomi,” he snapped, storming back into the bathroom and locking the door behind him.

A man sitting in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney

A man sitting in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney

I tried to let it go, but every night, as I lay in bed listening to those strange noises coming from the bathroom, I felt my imagination running wild. Was he hiding something? Was he in trouble?

The thought of him keeping secrets from me, after all these years, made my stomach churn. I considered every possibility, even the worst ones: was he seeing someone else?

Then, everything changed one afternoon. Liam had locked himself in the bathroom again, and I was in the kitchen when his phone buzzed on the counter.

A smartphone lying on a counter | Source: Midjourney

A smartphone lying on a counter | Source: Midjourney

I glanced at it absentmindedly, expecting some work message or a news alert. But no: it was his mom, Meredith, calling.

“Liam, your mom’s calling!” I called out, tapping on the countertop impatiently.

There was a grunt from the bathroom. “Can you get it? I’m busy!” His voice was muffled, strained.

I hesitated for a moment, then picked up the phone. “Hello, Meredith,” I said, trying to keep the conversation short. After a quick exchange about her upcoming doctor’s appointment, we hung up.

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

A woman talking on the phone | Source: Midjourney

But just as I went to lock the phone, something caught my eye — an open video on the screen. The thumbnail showed it was recorded just an hour ago.

My heart raced. Before I could stop myself, I clicked play. And as the video started, I felt my breath catch in my throat.

There was Liam in the bathroom, wearing workout clothes, of all things… exercising? He was in the middle of doing push-ups, sweat dripping down his face, groaning with each rep.

A man exercising in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney

A man exercising in a bathroom | Source: Midjourney

Then he switched to sit-ups, breathing heavily, pushing himself like I’d never seen him do before.

My first reaction was relief. So that’s what had been going on in there? My imagination had gone to the darkest places, and here he was… doing some awkward yoga poses. I actually chuckled, a combination of amusement and disbelief bubbling up.

I marched down the hall, heart still racing, and knocked on the bathroom door, harder this time. “Liam! Open the door. We need to talk.”

A woman looking at the closed bathroom door in her room | Source: Midjourney

A woman looking at the closed bathroom door in her room | Source: Midjourney

There was silence on the other side, and I could almost feel his hesitation through the thick wood. “I’m, uh, kinda busy right now,” he finally muttered, his voice breathless.

I wasn’t having it. “Liam. Open. The. Door.”

I heard him shuffle around, and after a beat, the lock clicked. The door creaked open slowly, revealing my husband, flushed, sweaty, and holding a bright green resistance band in one hand. He stared at me, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

A closeup of a green-colored resistance band lying on the floor | Source: Midjourney

A closeup of a green-colored resistance band lying on the floor | Source: Midjourney

“You saw the video, didn’t you?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper. His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the floor.

I crossed my arms, trying to keep my voice calm. “Yeah, I saw it. What on earth is going on?”

Liam sighed deeply, running a hand through his damp hair. “I… I’ve put on weight,” he admitted, his voice heavy with embarrassment. “Nine kilos in the last few months, and I—I felt so ashamed. I thought you might… you know, notice.”

A man looks embarrassed while sitting in his room | Source: Midjourney

A man looks embarrassed while sitting in his room | Source: Midjourney

“Notice what? That you gained a bit of weight? Liam, everyone puts on weight now and then. What does that have to do with locking yourself in the bathroom for hours?” I asked, genuinely confused but feeling a bit of my frustration melt away.

He groaned, rubbing his forehead like a child caught sneaking cookies before dinner. “I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he mumbled. “So I started working out… in secret. I hired this online coach and started doing these bathroom workouts so you wouldn’t… notice how out of shape I’d gotten.”

A man using his phone in the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

A man using his phone in the bathroom | Source: Midjourney

I blinked, processing his words. “Wait. All this time, you were in here… working out? Not hiding something from me? Not cheating or… God knows what else I thought?” I could feel a mixture of exasperation and relief washing over me.

He nodded, still not meeting my eyes. “I didn’t want you to hear me struggling. It’s embarrassing, okay? I’d be grunting and breathing heavily, and I figured if you knew, you’d worry… or worse, think less of me.”

A man breathing heavily and sweating during a bathroom workout session | Source: Midjourney

A man breathing heavily and sweating during a bathroom workout session | Source: Midjourney

I stared at him, then burst out laughing. I couldn’t help it. The sheer absurdity of it all: the hours spent worrying, the secretive looks, the locked doors; all because he was too shy to admit he was working out.

“Liam, you absolute idiot!” I laughed, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. “You could’ve just told me. You know I’d support you no matter what!”

A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney

A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney

Liam looked up at me, a sheepish smile starting to break through his embarrassment. “I didn’t want to worry you. I know how much you’ve been dealing with lately: work, my mom’s health, everything. I didn’t want to add to that.”

I shook my head, the last bit of tension fading as I took a step toward him. “Worry me? Liam, you DID worry me. You were acting so strange. My imagination was running wild! I thought you were keeping something serious from me…”

An extremely worried woman | Source: Midjourney

An extremely worried woman | Source: Midjourney

He winced, clearly feeling guilty. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I just — I’ve been feeling bad about myself. And I didn’t want to burden you with that.”

I softened, reaching out to touch his arm. “Liam, we’ve been married 25 years. You don’t have to hide anything from me, especially not this.” I paused, trying to read his face.

“You’re still the same man I married, whether you’ve put on a few kilos or not. Besides, it’s not like I’ve stayed the same size either,” I added with a smirk, patting my belly for emphasis.

A woman smirks while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

A woman smirks while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

Liam finally cracked a real smile. “I guess I’ve been a bit ridiculous, huh?”

“Just a little,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “Next time, instead of locking yourself away, how about we go on a run together? Or, I don’t know, maybe let me in on your secret workout routine?”

He chuckled, the tension fully broken now. “You and me? Doing yoga together?” he joked, his eyes twinkling for the first time in weeks.

A man chuckles while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

A man chuckles while looking at someone | Source: Midjourney

“Why not? I could use a little stretching,” I said with a grin, then sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster of the last 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 before glancing back up at me. “I will. I promise.”

We stood there for a moment, the air between us lighter now, as if a weight had been lifted. I hadn’t realized how much this situation had weighed on me until it was gone.

A loving couple | Source: Midjourney

A loving couple | Source: Midjourney

Finally, I smiled, shaking my head at him again. “All this time, and it was just you doing push-ups in here?”

Liam laughed, tossing the resistance band aside. “Yeah, and pretty badly, too.”

We both laughed, the sound filling the small bathroom. It was ridiculous, 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 make us closer.

I squeezed his hand and said softly, “Next time, just let me in, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered, pulling me into a hug.

A couple hugging | Source: Midjourney

A couple hugging | Source: Midjourney

And in that moment, it was like everything fell back into place.

Ready to dive into another heartwarming story? You’re going to 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, only to be found locked in the cellar, with a shocking story that pointed to a betrayal he never saw coming.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

I Found a Love Letter from My Husband That Ended Our Marriage

When Nancy discovers a hidden letter in her husband David’s laundry, her seemingly stable life unravels. The letter, written by David, invites a mysterious woman to celebrate their “seven-year anniversary.” What else will the dirty laundry reveal?

Laundry was just another Mom thing in our household. David helps out with the kitchen and the kids — but the laundry and the bathroom are two things he will never tackle.

A person doing laundry | Source: Pexels

A person doing laundry | Source: Pexels

“I can’t do the hair in the drain,” David said, grimacing when I asked him to take over the chores.

“It’s my hair. And our daughter’s,” I chuckled.

“Still gross,” he retorted.

But the sounds of the washing machine and the hum of the dryer soon became my perfect quiet chore — and I loved that it was mine.

Except for the time when laundry day revealed more than just dirty stains.

A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels

A woman washing her hair | Source: Pexels

As I shuffled through my husband’s laundry, the soft crinkle of paper disrupted the mindless actions of my hands. A folded letter, elegant and unsuspecting, slipped from between the folds of his shirt, falling to the floor.

Happy anniversary, babe! These 7 years have been the best of my life! Meet me at Obélix on Wednesday night, 8 p.m. Be in red.

My husband’s handwriting was unmistakable. The loops of his letters and the hard pressure with which he wrote.

A man writing on a piece of paper | Source: Pexels

A man writing on a piece of paper | Source: Pexels

A cold shiver ran down my spine.

Seven years? David and I had been married for eighteen years. We had two daughters. Our anniversary wasn’t for another six months.

And Obélix? The fanciest restaurant in town? After David had specifically told me that we needed to cut down our expenses.

A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels

A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels

“We need to cook at home more, Nancy,” he said. “Less takeout. The girls will just have to get used to the idea — we’ve been spending unnecessarily, lately.”

“Are we in trouble?” I asked, thinking that we were falling down some financial hole that we hadn’t been expecting.

“No, we’re not,” David reassured me. “But it’s just good to be mindful.”

A person packing takeout into a brown bag | Source: Unsplash

A person packing takeout into a brown bag | Source: Unsplash

Wednesday couldn’t come soon enough. It was all I thought about for days. I wanted to get to the bottom of David’s secret letter. A day after I found the note in his shirt pocket, I went back to see if it was still there — but the pocket was empty.

Signed, sealed, and delivered, I thought.

“I’m working late tonight, honey,” David said that morning while I began the breakfast routine.

A person making breakfast | Source: Pexels

A person making breakfast | Source: Pexels

“Should I leave you a plate, or will you grab something?” I asked, knowing full well that he had dinner plans with some mysterious woman in red.

“I’ll get something on the way home,” he said, walking out the door with his travel mug.

The day dragged on with me doing school drop-offs and the afternoon lift club consisting of five noisy schoolgirls. But even through that, I couldn’t get David out of my mind.

I took the girls back home and made them snacks for when they were sitting outside, while trying to figure out what to do.

Two little girls outside | Source: Pexels

Two little girls outside | Source: Pexels

“You’ve got the time and the location, Nancy,” my mother said when I phoned her for clarity.

“So, you think I should go? Really?” I asked.

Of course, I wanted to go. I wanted to be the one to catch David in the act. But I was also scared of breaking my own heart.

“Yes. Your entire marriage rests on this evening, darling,” she said. “I know that it’s going to be difficult, but at the end of the day, at least you’ll know what your next move will be.”

“I suppose,” I said.

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

A woman holding a phone | Source: Pexels

“Don’t you think you owe it to the girls?” she asked.

I arranged for a nanny to look after the girls — my mother could have done it, but it was too short notice to fetch her and still get to the restaurant in time.

I stood in front of my closet, trying to decide what to wear. I was torn between being a wallflower — easy for David to miss me, while I watched from afar.

“Stop it, Nancy,” I barked at myself in the mirror. “You’re going to be bold.”

A rack of clothing | Source: Pexels

A rack of clothing | Source: Pexels

I slipped into a stunning red dress that David had bought me for my birthday some time ago. It still fit perfectly. And I remembered the conversation clearly.

“Red has always been your color,” David said, removing the dress from the box.

A woman in a red dress | Source: Pexels

A woman in a red dress | Source: Pexels

I looked in the mirror — I was bold, striking — a symbol of the confrontation that was about to come. But although I knew that I looked good, at the heart of it, I was just hurt and betrayed.

I arrived at the restaurant a little early, the hum of anticipation and the clinking of glasses around me.

And there she was, the other woman. She was dressed in red, too — as per David’s instructions. She had a carefree smile as she held her phone at different angles, taking photos of herself.

Taking a deep breath, I took the table next to her, ensuring that my back was to the door. I didn’t want David to see me first. I needed him to see me at the right moment.

A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels

A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels

The moment my husband walked in, the air shifted. He approached her with a warmth and intimacy that sent a jolt through my heart.

A long time ago, David had looked at me in that way, too.

I took a sip of the wine I had ordered — I needed something to help settle my nerves.

A glass of wine on a table | Source: Pexels

A glass of wine on a table | Source: Pexels

David’s eyes were soft as he pulled a chair to sit next to the woman, instead of across from her. It was something he did with me, too. So that he could put his hand on my knee. He handed her a large bouquet of flowers and a white box.

“Isabelle,” he said, leaning in for a kiss that lingered too long for my comfort. “You look stunning as always, darling.”

Her laughter was light, and as carefree as her selfie session from before.

“David, you always know how to make a girl feel special. Seven years already? Can you believe it?”

A bouquet of white tulips and a giftbox | Source: Pexels

A bouquet of white tulips and a giftbox | Source: Pexels

In that moment, his eyes met mine, the warmth in his smile froze, replaced by a dawning realization and fear.

Without a word, he rose from his seat, mumbling an excuse to use the restroom to Isabelle.

“Don’t you dare, David!” I exclaimed.

He stopped, a look of panic crossing his face. Isabelle, now a confused and flustered mess, watched the scene unfold.

David, caught between his wife and his secret lover, stood rooted to the spot. I could see the wheels turning in his head, calculating his next move.

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

A shocked man | Source: Pexels

Turning to Isabelle, I introduced myself with a calmness I didn’t quite feel.

“I’m Nancy,” I said. “David’s wife of almost eighteen years.”

“What?” Isabelle remarked, her face turning pale. “I had no idea! David told me that you were separated, but still on good terms because of your children.”

Isabelle’s fingers nervously twisted a lock of her hair. It was clear that she was as much a victim of David’s lies as I was.

A person twirling a lock of hair | Source: Pexels

A person twirling a lock of hair | Source: Pexels

My husband’s eyes begged for forgiveness — or for the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The silence was deafening.

“Separated? How original, David.”

Looking directly at Isabelle, I saw the tears well in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never wanted to be a part of something like this.”

“I never meant for it to go this far,” David said.

A crying woman | Source: Pexels

A crying woman | Source: Pexels

I couldn’t tell which one of us he was talking to.

Isabelle sniffed into her napkin. I could see that she was visibly shaken.

But seven years? They had been together for seven years, and not once did she ask to meet my daughters? Or even meet me?

Did she not think that they were getting serious? Or that there was more to their relationship than just dating?

It didn’t make sense to me. None of it did. David and I got married when we were very young — almost straight out of high school. Despite the usual bickering that married couples went through, we were good. We were strong.

A couple sitting together | Source: Pexels

A couple sitting together | Source: Pexels

Until I found that note.

I thought about all the times that we had argued — sure, it was uncomfortable at the time, but we went through everything together and always came out better. I thought about all of David’s late nights, and the business trips.

I remembered the one evening, as I sat in bed eating a bowl of ice cream, David packed his things into a suitcase.

“I’ll just be away for the weekend,” he said.

“Where are you staying?” I asked.

An open suitcase | Source: Pexels

An open suitcase | Source: Pexels

“At a hotel,” he answered immediately. “But I’m not going to be alone. One of the guys will be sharing a room with me.”

I nodded. I trusted him; he had never given me any reason not to.

Now, I sat back in my chair, and watched as David fought himself not to reach out and comfort Isabelle. He had a pained look on his face, with his fists clenched tightly.

That hurt me the most. The fact that my husband cared enough for this woman, wanting to reach out to her — in my presence.

A clenched first | Source: Unsplash

A clenched first | Source: Unsplash

I didn’t feel that our marriage was over. But that was the moment that my heart broke completely.

“I’ll begin the divorce process,” I told David, picking up my handbag.

“You need to explain this to the girls; I’m not going to.”

As I left, the restaurant faded into a blur. The night air felt colder as I walked to my car. I had faced my betrayal. But I knew that I had a lot to work through.

I just needed to be strong for my girls. I knew that the divorce would wreck them, and our family. But David had forced my hand.

A woman in red lying on a low bed | Source: Pexels

A woman in red lying on a low bed | Source: Pexels

What would you have done?

Here’s another story for you | I witnessed my boss cheat on his wife at work with a coworker. But then a miraculous transformation sparked by a wish took him on a journey of personal growth, leading to systemic change, and marking a pivotal shift towards inclusivity and equality within our corporate world.

This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.

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