To heal, I decided to stay with my sister for a while. Those months gave me space to reflect, journal, and slowly rebuild the courage to face my life again. When I finally returned home, things felt steadier, and for a brief time, I believed my marriage had survived the storm.
But recently, my husband sat me down with a truth I never expected. With visible guilt, he confessed that the accident wasn’t just bad luck. He had been silently battling intense stress and anxiety that day, and his distracted state had played a role. He admitted he hadn’t told me before because he didn’t want to burden me — but the weight of secrecy had been crushing him ever since.
